Page 4 of Sold to Her Enemy

My neighbors growing up had a beautiful bar off their study, and though I never cracked a bottle open because I was a kid who toed the line, I did read through the Bartender’s World Book. Each state has its own signature cocktail—even if not officially.

My work sent me all over the United States.

The only state cocktail I haven’t had is Hawaii’s Mai Tai. I had plans to have a celebratory Mai Tai on the beach with the woman I thought I loved, but that plan turned more sour than the traditional whiskey sour.

Most men around me hold glasses of neat whiskey, but I’ll sip this concoction down.

I have a house here now, and I want to feel connected to this place. It’s still new to me living here, and making this the home base of Colossus Corp. Detroit was the place my finger literally landed on when I opened the map, and it’s far enough from Massachusetts that it feels like the fresh start I want for the company I managed to salvage together the debris. It’s a far cry from what I was supposed to do. The plan from birth was to be at the helm of MM Industries, taking over as CEO for my father.

At least I managed to save much of his work by folding it into this new company. Most importantly, I saved his reputation.

Club Lust is buzzing with an electric energy that’s charging my pulse. I didn’t think I was going to be here, but you don’t ignore an invitation like this.

I like being exclusive.

I’ve worked hard for what I have, and I don’t care if flaunting my wealth makes me a capitalist asshole.

My father worked hard for what he had, and I did everything I could to protect it. I’m damn proud of safeguarding his legacy, even if I had to give up taking over his company and start a whole new one.

And I’m not in exile. I go back to Boston all the time. I am quietly building an office there, too.

“Cheers,” the bartender sets the drink down.

I tilt the glass. “Cheers.”

The umami in the drink hits the back of my tongue but it’s not unpleasant though it’s making me want a whiskey. But I want to get to my seat.

I signal I’m ready, and a woman in purple boy shorts and a matching bra flashes a grin at me. “Right this way.”

Following her through the crowd to the seating area, I try to see if I can spot anyone I know, but either the other rich fucks are seated, or they’re at the bar.

But I have no doubt I’d recognize the members invited to this exclusive club. It wouldn’t surprise me if there were Harvard alumni in the place rubbing shoulders with the mobsters also in this room.

“Here is your tablet. It’s loaded with your banking details and the headshots of the merchandise.”

“Thank you.” I take the tablet from her and settle back against the leather seat.

The stage in front of the room is black, with two short runways on each side and a soft gray curtain in the background.

Edward, the owner of Club Lust and tonight’s emcee, is chatting with the DJ off to the side. I can’t tell who the DJ is, and I wonder if he’s a celebrity; his features are hidden by a half mask.

I quickly scroll through the headshots flashing by, and nobody stands out to me.

I’m here for a good time and a date, not a long-term commitment. I want a woman who is willing and easy on the eyes. I want a woman who enjoys dominance because I have an itch that I want to indulge alongside my obligation to fill.

I’m thankful that I divide my time between Detroit and Boston and can escort my winning bid to my well-furnished house in Palmer Woods.

As the CEO of a worldwide biotech corporation, who is in my bed is a closely guarded secret.

Not that I date a lot or have regular play partners. I don’t have the time or energy for even that casual commitment. I have acquaintances I could have asked, women who share a similar background that I could have asked to be my date for the occasion.

I wanted to go outside my circle and find someone new to take to my younger sister’s engagement party. Most women only want me for my money, so I might as well pay them for their time and be upfront about it.

My sister is a tornado, and a part of me feels guilty for bringing my date to her engagement party, but it’d be awful if I showed up without anyone on my arm.

I have no interest in dating. No woman has held my attention long enough, except for the one who always rejected me.

I grind my molars, knowing I’m going to owe my dentist more of my money as I think about the bitch who ruined my reputation.

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