I walked up the path toward the door, adjusting my watch and the sleeves of my suit as I went. I didn’t make a habit of going to two Gatherings in a row, but for some reason, I’d felt compelled to come to this one.

I had only been back in L.A. for a few days, but the city seemed to be lacking in luster. I needed something that would spark my energy, and this was the best thing I could think of doing.

I had tried going to bars to pick up girls, and I had tried going to more sophisticated venues when I’d found that I wasn’t satisfied with the bar scene. I had done the same thing in New York, and Tokyo. But the end result had always been the same.

Each girl that I hooked up with had the same story as all the other uninteresting girls I had been with in the past. They were all looking for something or running for something, and I had no interest in giving it to them or saving them from whatever it was. It seemed that the sex I was having was lacking something—something I didn’t know it was lacking before.

It didn’t seem to matter who my partner was—even finding the hottest girl in whatever venue did nothing to make me feel wanted, even when we were in bed together.

Even when the sex itself was fantastic and we both got what we wanted out of the session, I found myself lying awake and staring at the ceiling, thinking that there had to be something more to life than what I had.

It wasn’t my job; my company was doing better than ever, and its success looked set to continue. If my next deal came through—and I was confident that it would—I would become one of the wealthiest individuals on the planet. I would have my pick when it came to anything in life—there would be nothing to stop me.

But yet, every night when I thought about what that really meant, it seemed so pointless.

Not long ago, I’d had another battle with the tabloids over some girl I had been seeing in New York. The entire situation was rather entertaining, I thought, as the girl had meant nothing to me except someone I could meet in a hotel room when I was bored in town. Of course, I never brought her back to my room; I would always secure some location where we were less likely to be caught by the photographers.

But the paparazzi were getting smarter and more determined, and regardless of my biggest efforts to keep things under wraps and out of the public eye, it wasn’t long before the photos were published.

Usually, such things didn’t bother me, but lately, something had changed.

For some reason I didn’t quite understand, I felt that I should hide the story or somehow discredit it. I knew I could file a lawsuit against the paper, but that would only add to the scandal and make me all the more the object of public attention, which was the last thing I wanted to happen.

Breaking out of my thoughts as I reached the mansion, I gave the doorman my name. The bouncer looked at me for a moment, pretending to be unimpressed that I was standing there in front of him. Of course, I counted all the judgement I received from the bouncers as jealousy, because everyone knew me, and no one knew them. Anything in the world that I wanted was mine.

I walked through the hall toward the large doors at the end, already hearing the music coming from the main room. For a brief moment, I was sent back to the last time I had been in this building, and I thought of Emily.

The girl who had been so timid as she stood on the stage in front of everyone. The girl who had rocked my world that night—from the moment she stepped off the stage, to the moment I kissed her lightly on the forehead as I bid her goodbye the next morning.

The thought of seeing her again sent chills down my spine. I remembered so clearly the dress she had worn—and those boots that made her legs go on for miles.

I thought of her nervous laugh and the innocent aura she had. I thought of how she had reacted to witnessing her first orgy, and how I had just wanted to take her at that very moment.

I paused with my hand against the door, thinking of Emily and wondering where she was that night. It was unlike most people to come to these Gatherings often, though many of the same people returned over and over.

It was the purpose of the Gathering—to connect people to others who were on the same playing field. Money was the name of the game, and power was flaunted across the board. There was no end to the ways these people tried to show each other up, and nothing would stop them from trying to be the wealthiest show-off in the room.

Of course, in the past, I had done my fair share of showing off, and more than once I had earned the respect and awe of all those who were present with the lavish bids I would throw out there.

I had developed a reputation for myself that showed the world I didn’t care, and it was one that I had been proud of. But as I stood there at that moment, waiting to build up the courage to walk into the room, I couldn’t help but marvel at how much something inside of me had changed.

I didn’t like it. I wanted the old me back—the man who didn’t care who was in the room, who he hurt, or what he did. I wanted to be the man who only looked out for himself—not the man who was nervous to go into this room because he hoped against hope there would be one particular woman there.

At last, I sighed and gave the doors a shove. I knew it was a dramatic entrance, but I didn’t care. Some of the other guests glanced my way as I walked into the room, but they were quick to go back to their champagne and conversations. If there was another thing that was known about me, it was that I preferred to keep to myself, and I wasn’t going to walk into the room and start up a conversation with anyone.

I walked straight over to the bar and set some money down. I didn’t care what it was I was going to drink, all I cared about was getting that drink—and now. I needed to have something in my system to take the edge off of how I was feeling, or I wasn’t going to make it through this night with any of my dignity left.

I could hear Cora in the background talking about the lots and the starting bids, and I downed the drink the bartender handed me. I could feel the warm swirl of the alcohol in my stomach as I walked to the other side of the room, preparing to watch the girls walk out and attempt to show the crowd that they were worth the thousands of dollars that were going to be spent for the privilege to spend time with them that night.

I shook my head slightly, thinking of the moment I had seen Emily for the first time. She had looked so quiet and sweet up there on the stage—a stark contrast to the girl who had just been brought out. Sure, this girl might have known what she was doing, but her attitude lacked the innocence Emily had exuded onstage.

I watched as the bidding began, then noticed that several women in the crowd had taken notice of me.

They were coming over, each clearly trying to get my attention. I didn’t want to be rude, but I did my best to brush them off and send them on their way. One woman, however, came through the crowd suddenly, and put her arm around my shoulders.

I didn’t want her hands on me, and I told her so.

The girl looked up at me with her flirtatious eyes, and she laughed as though she had never heard anything more hilarious. I fought the urge to shove her off, and told her once more to back off. To my surprise, she reached up and ran her hand down my jawline.

Shaking my head, I told the woman I wasn’t interested, and pushed her hand off my shoulder. She stood for a moment, looking at me in surprise before she turned and stomped off, disappearing into the crowd. I didn’t bother waiting to see if she had gone for good. I turned on my heel and walked back over to the bar.

I knew drinking away my problems wasn’t the answer, but I had to do something. I wasn’t sure what this feeling was in the first place, and I certainly didn’t know how to handle it.

Suddenly, Cora gave the announcement that the girl had been sold to a gentleman in the crowd, and my heart felt heavy.

I knew that Emily was no escort—I’d known that the minute I set eyes on her—but for some reason I’d left the cash anyway. Why had I done that? Why had I pushed her away, the second I realized there might be something genuine between us?

I sighed as I ordered another drink and sat down at the bar, knowing it was only a matter of time before another young woman came and sat next to me, doing her best to impress me. I knew none of it was going to be enough. There was something inside me that told me no one else was ever going to be right for me again.

I wanted one person and one person alone—and I had no idea if I would ever see her again.