The Auction: A Dark Romance (Club Indulgence Duet Book 1)

Jones is a genius. He’s siphoning money from Hugh’s accounts at record speed. His system truly does seem unhackable. But as he stated earlier, he makes sure that he upgrades it daily to keep it that way.

The banks informed Hugh he can no longer keep his accounts with them. I know because Jones gave me the email documentation of Hugh going back and forth. The banks have had to replace his money too many times, and slowly, over the last month, they’ve all fired him as a client. They paid him out in cash, cutting their losses.

He’s their only client that’s been hacked like this, and since he’s a target, they can’t take the risk anymore. Hugh’s level of arrogance is just as high as ever, except now there’s rage involved. And the emails back and forth, well, let’s just say they haven’t been the nicest.

All my plans are coming to fruition better than I could have estimated. My patience has paid off, and it’s time for the next step.

I know Hugh put his cash inside the safe at the office. I had a camera installed in the lights, and Hugh has no idea I’m watching his every move.

Thankfully, I observed him over the years, learning how he operates. I’m aware he doesn’t trust his wife, so he wouldn’t leave money at home. And he’s underestimated me. He still thinks I’m clueless and loyal to him.

I called Jones yesterday and told him he needed to hack into my security system at work. I want him to loop the recording so it looks like the room’s empty. I also need him to delete my keycard entrance so there’s no proof when I empty Hugh’s safe.

My moment is now. It’s dark, and everyone’s gone, including the janitors. I make my way into the building through the fire exit, bypassing the security guards at the front desk. Then I text Jones.

Me: I’m in.

Jones: Two more minutes.

I wait in the corridor and then receive another text.

Jones: You’re clear.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins. I climb the forty-five flights, hauling with me two empty suitcases until I get to the top floor. Then I go directly into Hugh’s office suite.

Since Hugh’s now paranoid, he often opens his safe and stares at his money. It only took a few days before the camera captured the code, since he’s old school. He laughed when I told him years ago he should switch to an electronic safe that requires a handprint.

I push my gloved fingers against the buttons, and the safe opens. I take all the cash, a set of collector Rolex watches, and his passport. I open a folder and freeze.

My pet’s picture stares at me. She’s younger, and the issue date states it was around her eighteenth birthday. I add it to the case, then pick up two large yellow envelopes.

I open the first one, then thumb through the documents.

It’s a trail of all the money he’s stolen from our client accounts and me. I’ve seen it before when Jones gave me his report. I toss it in with the other items. Then I open the second envelope.

A fresh burst of hatred rushes through my blood. There are details on where Blakely lived, worked, and photos of her. She’s singing on a stage or carrying trays of drinks in her cheap thong and bra she wore the night she arrived at my house. In one, she’s getting out of a car, and I recognize the surroundings as the lot near Cheeks.

I force myself to stay focused, toss it in the suitcase, and zip both bags.

I roll them through the office, then carry them down the stairs, exiting the same way I entered. I put everything into the trunk of my Porsche. I drive several blocks, then text Jones.

Me: I’m out.

A few minutes pass, and I get a reply.

Jones: Done.

Me: Perfect. I owe you a bigger bonus.

Jones: I’ll happily take your money. Stop by tomorrow morning. I have something for you.

I chuckle, feeling a buzz. Hugh’s going to have nothing left. He’s going to lose it when he realizes everything is gone.

I drive home to the beach house. Since it’s so late, Blakely’s already sleeping. I unpack everything into my office safe, then lock it. I take a shower, then slide into bed.

She stirs. ‘You’re back.’

I give her a kiss, then tell her, ‘I am. Go back to sleep.’

She snuggles into me, and the warm feeling I can’t escape fills me. It’s something I’ve gotten more used to lately. I can’t lie to myself anymore. I enjoy it.

I kiss the top of her head and peacefully fall asleep until the morning comes, waking up at my normal time.

Blakely’s still asleep. I unpeel my body from hers, then sneak out of the bedroom. I get outside, put on my wetsuit, then take my board down to the water and hit the waves.

The sun’s risen when I finally see the calm chaos. I stay in the water for a few more minutes, thinking about my pet.

She’s the one.

I need to keep her.

Anxiety mixes with that warmth I can’t escape. It gradually spreads throughout my chest until it seeps into my stomach. This isn’t the first time I’ve told myself these things, yet time doesn’t seem to override my reaction.

I paddle to shore, shower, then venture into the bedroom.

Blakely steps out of the bathroom. She sees me and smiles, chirping, ‘Morning. How was the surf?’

I close the distance between us and kiss her. ‘Great. Were you up late?’

She nods. ‘I finished another song. At least, I think it’s done.’

I glance at the clock, debating if I have time to play, but I don’t. I announce, ‘I have a ton of things going on today at work.’

‘Busy week, huh?’ she says, and the tad of disappointment I hear in her voice makes my heart beat faster.

I state, ‘I’d rather stay here with you.’

She beams. ‘You can make it up to me later.’

I squeeze her ass and chuckle, knowing I intend to do just that. ‘Deal.’

She rises on her tippy-toes, pecks me on the cheek, then snaps my towel off me. She glances down at my cock, then bats her eyes, pouting, ‘Oops. Sorry.’

I resist the urge to back her against the wall. I warn, ‘I see a punishment in your future.’

She shrugs, then leaves the room, glancing back at me over her shoulder.

Yep, she’s it.

The uncomfortable tightness spawns again. I fight through it and go into my closet. I get dressed, then leave, driving to Compton.

I pull into Jones’s garage. He comes to my window. ‘I have access to all the new accounts. Here’s the data.’ He hands me an oversized envelope.

‘What’s this?’ I question.

‘New offshore accounts. I’ve already hacked into them though.’

‘Good man,’ I praise and fist-bump him. I ask, ‘And you’re sure there’s no evidence I was in the building last night?’

He scoffs. ‘Of course. I’m not an amateur. Not a trace of evidence exists.’

I chuckle. ‘No, you sure aren’t an amateur.’ I reach into the glove box and pull out an envelope of cash. ‘Your bonus.’

He takes it from me, stating, ‘I’ll work on the credit cards this morning. You should be good in a few hours.’

‘Perfect. Text me when it’s ready,’ I order, then leave the garage.

I fight the thick smog and traffic, then grab a coffee at a local shop while returning some emails. I get a text.

Jones: Done.

Giddiness hits me. I go to the country club for lunch. Hugh scheduled lunch with his cronies and pointed out that I hadn’t gone in a while. Every now and then, I go to make Hugh happy. He likes to have me there to confirm when he brags about how well our company’s doing. But I’m only here for my own benefit. And I can’t wait to watch what’s about to happen.

My timing is impeccable, arriving at valet just as Hugh gets out of his car. I can tell right away something is off by his distracted expression. His jovial arrogance is nowhere to be seen.

‘Hugh,’ I call out when he doesn’t seem to notice me.

Red deepens on his face. ‘Riggs.’

‘Why do you look frazzled?’ I ask innocently.

He shakes his head. ‘I’m not. I’m fine.’

Sure you are, you lying, thieving, manipulative bastard.

We go inside to the check-in desk. Mabel pins her wide eyes on Hugh. She clears her throat. ‘Mr. Gallow, Amy needs to speak with you.’

His eyes turn to slits. ‘Why?’

Amy from membership walks out. ‘Mr. Gallow, can you step into my office for a quick minute?’

‘I have people waiting,’ he declares in his haughty tone.

Amy nods and smiles bigger, but it’s a strained expression. ‘Yes, but there’s an important issue I need to discuss.’

He seethes, ‘What would that be?’

I chuckle inside. Witnessing this is priceless.

Amy puts her hand on his arm and says, ‘Mr. Gallow, I think it’s better if we speak in private.’

‘Just give her a minute. I’ll wait here for you,’ I assert.

Hugh huffs, follows Amy into the office, and she shuts the glass door but not all the way.

She motions to the chair. ‘Have a seat, Mr. Gallow.’

‘I don’t have time for this. What’s going on, Amy?’ he demands.

Her nervousness is apparent in her tone when she informs him, ‘The check bounced for your annual memberships dues. Do you happen to have a check for another bank account?’

Hugh groans, announcing, ‘I’ve been the target of fraud. All my accounts have been hacked. But here, take this.’ He drops his credit card on the wood.

So predictable.

‘Thank you. Just one moment,’ Amy chirps. A moment of silence passes, and she clears her throat again. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Gallow, but your card’s been declined.’

He barks, ‘That’s impossible. I have no limit.’

‘I’m sorry, but it says it’s declined.’

‘Run it again.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she says. Another moment passes, and Amy gets even more uncomfortable. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Gallow, but this isn’t going through. Do you have another card?’

‘Why would I need another card? Did you not hear me? I have an unlimited amount of credit,’ he booms.

‘Mr. Gallow, you might want to keep your voice down. I’m sure that we can work this out.’

‘This is ridiculous. Figure it out, Amy,’ he demands, rises, and storms out of the room.

She follows him. ‘Mr. Gallow, we have to sort this out!’

I hand her my card. ‘Run it on this. He’s got some issues going on.’

She hesitates. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank you, Mr. Madden.’

‘No problem. I apologize for his behavior. He’s stressed,’ I state.

‘It’s okay.’ She runs the six-figure fee on my card, then hands it back to me, smiling. ‘All set.’

‘Thanks.’

‘No, thank you,’ she replies.

I nod and leave the room, moving toward the restaurant. I run into Hugh as he’s leaving the restroom. His face looks damp. I inform him, ‘I had her run my card.’

‘I didn’t need you to do that,’ he claims.

‘Well, it sounded like you have a problem, partner. Only makes sense I would help you out. You’d do the same for me, right?’ I add, knowing he wouldn’t without holding it over my head.

He takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders. Reminds me a little bit of when Blakely does it, except now, I can’t stand it when he does it. Pride sweeps through me when my pet’s confidence grows.

He replies, ‘Whatever we need to do. This is just ridiculous.’

‘Agreed,’ I respond.

Amy appears. She hands me a piece of paper. ‘I forgot to give you your receipt.’ She glances at Hugh and smiles. ‘You’re all set for the year, Mr. Gallow.’

He scowls at her.

‘Thank you, Amy,’ I say, taking the receipt. I steer Hugh toward the restaurant.

He stomps along the tile.

We get outside the restaurant. I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘Hugh.’

He spins. ‘What?’

‘Take a breather. You look like you’re about to have a heart attack,’ I declare, wanting him to be anything but calm when the next thing happens.

He hesitates, then nods. ‘You’re right. It’s just these hackers. I don’t understand why they’re targeting me.’

‘We’ll figure it out,’ I assure him.

‘How? The banks won’t even let me keep my money there. I have all my cash in a safe,’ he admits.

‘Shit. That sucks. Well, at least you know where it’s at,’ I add, doing the happy dance inside. His fortune is mine. I’ve never been a thief until now, but he’s earned all the misery that’s coming to him.

‘It’s ridiculous,’ he claims.

I nod. ‘Can’t do anything about it right now. Let’s go eat. We’re keeping everybody waiting.’

The hostess leads us to a table with half a dozen of Hugh’s cronies. I can’t stand any of them but play my part.

We’re halfway into the meal, and I’m so anxious with excitement, I’m trying not to tap my fingers on my thigh. It’s a bad habit I’m picking up from Blakely.

I should have fucked her before I left.

The TVs in the restaurant all turn on. They’re normally used for sporting events—specifically horse races, golf, or tennis matches. One thing the members love is betting absurd amounts of money. So the big screens fill the walls, and the members vote yearly to upgrade them to the newest technology.

Blakely’s face appears, and Hugh’s hand grips the table’s edge. He snarls, ‘What the fuck is going on?’

A video flickers with her face. It’s only her face. I didn’t want to show any other part of her body to these country club assholes. And her hair is dark, with her blueish-purple highlights in it. I chose that photo since I know Hugh will hate it the most. He thinks anything but natural hair color is trashy.

A full minute passes with just her face flickering.

Hugh stands up, slamming his hand on the table, shouting, ‘Why is my daughter on the TVs? Turn this off.’

Blakely’s voice tears through the loudspeakers, declaring, ‘I hate my father.’ Then it intensifies as her emotion-filled voice repeats, ‘I hate my father.’

My masked voice pushes her, and she admits everything I caught on video when I first tried to break her. She cries, ‘He’s selfish… He’s a liar… He’s cruel,’ for another ten minutes, over and over.

Spit flies out of Hugh’s mouth as he screams at the staff to turn off the TVs. But no matter what he does, the TVs won’t shut down. Jones is the only one with control over them, and the video continues repeating itself at the loudest volume possible.

I pretend to look appalled, pointing at the staff and agreeing with Hugh. ‘Turn that off!’

When they finally shut down, the entire restaurant is staring at Hugh. The people who claim to be his friends look uncomfortable, and I know he’s cracking.

His face is red. He’s borderline sweating, and rage radiates from him. ‘Who did this? Heads are going to roll!’

Everyone in the restaurant avoids his accusing gaze. I chuckle inside. The gossip will fly, and Hugh won’t recover from this embarrassment; his impeccable reputation will be tarnished. And all those ‘friends’ of his who’ve secretly wanted to see him fall will finally have their wish.

I let Hugh have a tantrum for a few more minutes, attempting to calm him, then maneuver him out of the club. We get to the valet, and Hugh seethes, ‘This is getting out of control, Riggs. Whoever this bastard is will pay!’

‘It’s going to be bad for business if this keeps up. We need to find out who the culprit is,’ I agree.

His eyes turn to flames. ‘Bad for business? My whole personal life is falling into the shitter.’

‘It’ll all be okay. We’ll find this guy, but maybe you should lie low for a while?’ I suggest.

His car pulls up. He scowls, shakes his head, and storms over to his Mercedes, not tipping the driver.

I toss the guy a hundred, stating, ‘He’s having a bad day.’

‘Thank you, Mr. Madden.’

I nod, and my car pulls to the curb. I tip my valet a hundred, then get into my Porsche, feeling like I’m on top of the world.

I stop at the jewelers and text him.

Me: I’m outside.

His employee comes outside and hands me two boxes.

I drive through town, pull up to the boutique, and text Isabella.

Me: I’m here.

Isabella: Coming right out.

She appears with two men. One carries dress bags and boxes. Another rolls two suitcases.

I roll my window down as Isabella approaches, asking, ‘Is everything ready to go?’

‘Of course,’ she chirps. ‘Now, tell me about the lucky woman.’

‘You’ll know soon enough. Thanks,’ I reply, then roll up my window, not wanting to discuss anything else.

My trunk slams shut, and I take off, driving toward Malibu.

When I get home, Blakely’s on the piano playing, singing a new song, but there are only a few words. She looks up and stops. ‘Hey, what are you doing home so early?’

‘Is that a complaint?’ I tease.

She grins. ‘No, it’s never a complaint.’

More warmth fills me, confirming this is the right thing. I don’t remember ever being so damn happy in my life.

She walks over to me, and I give her a kiss. Then I guide her toward the door.

‘Are we going somewhere?’ she questions.

‘Yep. It’s a surprise.’

‘Oh?’ Excitement flares in her blues. ‘Do I get a hint so I can try to guess?’

I chuckle. ‘It’s not a surprise if I tell you, pet.’ I lead her to the car, and we get in. I drive to the private airport.

She glances out the window. ‘We’re flying?’

‘Yep.’

Once we’re inside the plane and all the luggage, bags, and boxes are loaded, the plane lifts into the air. The flight is just shy of six hours, and when we land, I order, ‘Go ahead and open the window shade.’

She does, gaping.

The sun sets over the water, with mountains highlighted in the brilliant pink backdrop.

She turns to me. ‘Where are we?’

‘Maui.’

She beams. ‘You brought me to Maui?’

‘Yep. Let’s get off this plane, pet.’ I rise and lead her onto the tarmac.

A private car’s waiting for us. It takes us to the resort in front of Maluaka Beach. It’s also known as the secret beach, on the south side of Maui. You can swim and snorkel right off it, and it’s usually calm, so you don’t have to fight the crazy waves Maui’s known for.

I’ll go hit some of the surf down the road, but I wanted a place for us to chill out for a bit. The beach is in a cove, so it’s calmer most days, without the crazy undertow and waves that terrorize other beaches.

We check in. The bellman brings our bags to the room, and I pull a soft pink dress out of the garment bag. ‘Put this on, pet.’

She runs her fingers over it. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘It’s going to be more beautiful on you. Go put it on. We have dinner plans,’ I announce.

We both get ready. I dress in a pair of khaki linen pants and a pink linen shirt. I roll up the cuffs, displaying my ink, and we step outside.

‘Where are we going?’ she questions.

I point to a deck on the beach. There’s only one table. Candles flicker in the darkness, and a team of servers stand in a line. I reply, ‘Over there.’

She gives me another surprised look, and I lead her over to the deck. My stomach fills with nerves during dinner, and I barely taste the poke, sushi rolls, and wine.

Before dessert arrives, I rise and motion for the staff to leave the deck. They disappear, and I say to Blakely, ‘Let’s dance.’

She laughs. ‘There’s no music.’

Almost on cue, her song, ‘The End,’ from the demo, blares through the air.

Her eyes widen. I don’t let her be shocked for too long. I tug her into my arms and start moving in a slow dance.

Her voice belts out, ‘We’re not forever. Our days fade before us, and it’s all okay to you.’

‘Why is my song playing?’ she questions, giving me a worried, sad glance. It’s the same expression she wore the day she sang it in the studio.

I tug her closer to me and murmur in her ear, ‘You’re wrong. Every word of this song is wrong.’

She freezes, holding her breath, her eyes glistening, and she pins her calm chaos of blues on me.

I study her, nervous, but I’ve never been so sure about anything. I slide a ring on her finger and say, ‘Marry me. Make us forever.’