Billionaire Bash: The Complete Steele Series Read online

Yvonne glanced around, even nodding to one or two people and catching Kerri’s eye. “See some old friends?”

  Yvonne chuckled. “Maybe some potential new ones.”

  “Yvonne, be serious! You’re here to help me with all this, not get swept up and disappear for some weekend of slap and tickle.”

  “All right, Kerri, don’t be so nervous.”

  “Nervous? I’m not nervous, I’m … I’m scared to death, actually.”

  Yvonne chuckled. “Relax, you’ll be fine.” A young man walked by with a tray of Champagne flutes, and Yvonne took two, handing one to Kerri. It was chilled and delicious, bubbles tickling her nose. “You may need a few of those.”

  “I think I’ll need my wits tonight. Still, I’m sure one won’t hurt.”

  “No,” Yvonne said with a knowing half-smile, one brow raised, “Of course it won’t.”

  Kerri looked around, searching for answers that only inspired more questions. “So how does this work, exactly?”

  “I’m not really sure, I’ve never been auctioned but Hamilton said the money is held in escrow over the weekend, delivered on Monday morning without fail. The Swedes handle it; apparently, they’re great at that sort of thing. Hey, that’s not racist, is it?”

  “I think it might be.”

  “No, it can’t be racist; they’re white. Anyway, let’s take a look at the auction room, shall we?”

  Kerri was more interested in avoiding that very thing, but she knew she had little choice. It was why she came, why they spent hours getting ready. She knew what she had to do, what was waiting for her in a week’s time if she didn’t do it; so she followed Yvonne across one of the big main floor rooms to a pair of double doors guarded by a big man in a black suit. She nodded at him and he back at her, then he stepped aside to open the door and let them pass.

  Dead silence filled the big room as Yvonne led Kerri toward a large crowd of men and women standing around an elevated stage. The stage was built into the walnut bookcases and pillars, everything highly polished.

  But that wasn’t what caught Kerri’s eye.

  On the stage stood a beautiful young woman, a brunette with a gorgeous face straight out of a 1930s movie, cherubic and sweet. Her body was perfect, slinky in a clingy satin dress. A man in a tuxedo spun her slowly around. Another man stood on the stage nearby, also in a tux. He wordlessly interacted with the audience by pointing at one person, then raising his hands, various fingers extended; one on his left, three on his right.

  Yvonne leaned over to Kerri and whispered, “One hundred forty thousand, I’m pretty sure.”

  Kerri’s head started to swim. The man clapped again, raising his fingers, scanning the crowd as some nodded. The man would choose one; clap and point, then raise his fingers to indicate an even higher number. “I think that’s three hundred thousand,” Yvonne whispered.

  The smell of brandy and perfume combined to sweep up Kerri’s nostrils, nearly making her faint. Men turned to glance at her and Yvonne, some with suave smiles that barely disguised their vicious intent.

  The man on the stage clapped again and raised his hands, five on each, flashing his fingers five times. “There’s half a million.”

  My God, Kerri couldn’t help but think, What are they going to do to that girl for their half-million dollars? What devious, demented practices does she have in store?

  Yvonne glanced at Kerri, setting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Relax, Ker, she looks like she can handle herself.”

  “She can’t be more than twenty-one.”

  “Nah,” Yvonne said, waving Kerri off and sizing up the brunette as she was escorted off the stage. “She can’t be a day over nineteen.”

  A nervous curl turned in Kerri’s stomach. “No, this … this is just too weird, Yvonne. I wanna go, we should go.”

  “Kerri, calm down. It wasn’t easy to get in here.”

  Looking around, Kerri’s heart beat faster. “I don’t care; we should go … right now.”

  Yvonne put both her hands on Kerri’s arms and looked right into her eyes. “Kerri, take a minute to collect yourself, okay ? It’s going to be fine, trust me.”

  But she was getting dizzy and nauseated. She knew if she stayed their much longer something embarrassing was going to happen; precisely how embarrassing would depend on which part of her body gave out first.

  Kerri turned and rushed for the double doors, Yvonne on her heels. She stopped short when a man stepped into the room toward her. His eyes locked on hers, his green to her blue, his black hair short and well-styled, just a touch of grey creeping over his sideburns.

  Opening her mouth to speak, she had no idea what to say and no reason to say anything at all. Everything was happening too fast, and her overriding instincts to get out of there pushed her toward the double doors with Yvonne following close behind.

  Kerri knew she was drawing stares, but that only made her legs pedal her faster, cold sweat collecting on the back of her neck. Once through the big living room, Kerri felt like the doors of the foyer to the outside were getting farther and farther away the harder she tried to reach them.

  “Kerri,” Yvonne rasped, but it was too late. Kerri was quick to push her way out of the foyer and into the front of the mansion. Once outside, the cool air braced her, but she could barely stop walking until Yvonne finally grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Kerri, take it easy, will you? I thought you said you didn’t have a choice!”

  Stopping, she looked up at the big mansion stammering to find the right words. She hadn’t told Yvonne about the visit from the loan shark, the money she owed him, what was waiting for her if she didn’t, how little time she had. But she knew it to be true, and once again being on the outside of that mansion meant that she might have thrown her only bid for survival right out the window.

  “Okay, you're right,” Kerri said, “You’re right, I’m sorry, I … I just freaked out a little bit there.”

  “A little bit? I don’t think I’ll be able to get us back inside!”

  “Oh no, Yvonne, you gotta get us back in, I have to do this, I … I need to do it.”

  Yvonne took a closer look at her old friend. “What is it that you’re not telling me, Ker?”

  “I owe money, Mark owed money, I told you that. But … some of it needs to collect sooner than the rest of it.”

  “Some? To whom?”

  “Some guys from New Jersey, gambling debts.”

  “Oh Christ, Jersey? The mob? You know I’d loan you the money, but we’re tapped out too; Harvey hasn’t worked in ages, Joanne’s private school is killing us-”

  “It’s okay, Yvonne, it’s not your responsibility.”

  “Still and all.” Yvonne turned and glared at the mansion, taking Kerri by the hand. “Let’s get you back inside and sell you off before we both get wacked.”

  Yvonne managed to get them back into the mansion, but returning to the auction room was another matter. The doorman was grim-faced, arms crossed in front of his chest as he shook his head. Yvonne flirted and rationalized and even pleaded, eventually inspiring the doorman to ask, “Bidding?”

  A nervous wave passed through Kerri’s legs, making them tremble when Yvonne said, “On the block, actually, my friend here.”

  The doorman looked Kerri over, his eyes slowly crawling up her creamy, taught legs and compact, gymnast’s physique. His eyes lingered over her face, lips pouty and red, eyes catlike and blue. Finally, he shrugged and stepped back, opening one of the two big doors and allowing them to enter.

  Kerri walked in and looked around, instantly drawing the glare of a few of her fellow revelers. She walked at an even pace, slow but resolved, approaching the stage. Kerri scanned the room, not seeing the handsome gentleman with the piercing green eyes and chiseled features. She passed from face to face, everybody around her reeking of wealth and power, the best and the brightest, and the darkest, of the Los Angeles elite.

  She arrived at the foot of the stage and one of the two men noticed her immediat
ely. He extended his hand to her and Kerri stood there, nervously looking around. Yvonne jutted her head, gesturing for Kerri to take the man’s hand and get up onto the stage. But Kerri was frozen with nerves, unable to move.

  Do it, Kerri urged herself, you have to do it! Take control for once in your life!

  Kerri extended her hand and the man in the black suit took it, pulling her gently but firmly onto the stage. He led her wordlessly to centre stage and spun her slowly around. Kerri could feel the eyes of the people in the crowd, undressing her with their imaginations, already conceiving strange and seductive practices for her. She paused to face them so they could take in her face, her breasts, her complete facade.

  These people don’t care about me, she knew, it’s completely about what’s on the surface.

  The silent auctioneer pointed at the nodding men and women in the crowd, clapping and raising various combinations of fingers. Kerri couldn’t follow the numerical process, and with nobody saying a single word, she couldn’t even guess how much they were bidding for her. But with the frequent claps and different combinations of fingers, she knew that they were bidding a lot, and that the price was going up fast.

  Her heart skipped a beat to be on that stage, the object of fascination for people she didn’t know, people who didn’t know her. It brought back the old days, her time as a bubbly scream queen, a masturbatory fantasy for young boys and old men alike.

  But Killer Kamp 4 had never brought in a crowd like this.

  Clap ! Fingers and nodding and pointing; clap!

  One man stepped through the crowd, his piercing green eyes fixed on her. He was even more handsome than she recalled from that first fleeting glimpse, with broad shoulders and an athletic build under his perfectly tailored tuxedo. He stepped toward the stage and her eyes locked on his, the two staring at each other as if there were no one else in the room.

  Amid the clapping and the nodding, this man raised his hand and snapped his fingers, a loud clack! that filled the hall and captured the auctioneer’s attention. All eyes fell on the green-eyed man at the foot of the stage. With the hand he’d used to snap, still upraised, he extended his index finger, a wordless one.

  There was a hush even in that silent crowd, people looking at each other as if they’d just seen a ghost; one that had just paid one million dollars for the weekend.

  The auctioneer looked around, nobody else nodding. He clapped his fingers and raised his own hand, index finger pointing upward to match the man in the crowd. The auctioneer’s partner took Kerri by the hand and led her down the front of the stage and to the green-eyed man before returning to the stage.

  Kerri and the man looked into each other’s eyes. Saying nothing, he extended his forearm. She slid her little limb under his black sleeve and let her arm rest on his as he led her through the room and toward those double doors.

  Beyond them lay a weekend she could not imagine but she was sure would never forget.

  Chapter 4

  A valet pulled a gorgeous black Mercedes Benz AMG GT S sports car, his red-jacketed partner holding the door open for Kerri while she climbed in. Her companion climbed in behind the wheel and the valet closed the door.

  “Wait a minute,” Kerri said, “We haven’t even been introduced.”

  “What makes you think I want to know your name, or that I would ever tell you mine?” A tense silence filled the plush car before he spoke again. “You can call me Harden.”

  “Harden?”

  “Harden Steele. You?”

  Kerri hadn’t even thought about using a fake name, but now it seemed more than reasonable. “Chastity,” she said. “Just Chastity.”

  He smiled, gunning the engine. He raised his hand and she placed her own in his. “Nice to meet you, Chastity,” he said, gently kissing the back of her hand.

  A lump rose in Kerri’s throat. “And you, Mr. Steele.”

  “Please, Harden.”

  Harden gunned the accelerator and the car jumped forward, a low hum leaking out of the hood.

  Harden drove quickly, but he was alert and quick, never missing a stop sign, never hesitating. Kerri couldn’t help but flash on her late husband, Mark, his last moments sailing off that mountain road, how terrified he must have been despite the drugs and the booze.

  She looked at Harden and saw a completely different man, a man for whom control was obviously a way of life. His hair was perfectly groomed, his clothes without a single wrinkle, gold cufflinks shining, amazing car spotless and gleaming. He threw the car into gear and the engine purred at his touch, hugging the road before jumping on the freeway and tearing east toward the beach.

  Kerri was intrigued, and nervous enough to be driven to small talk but she sensed that Harden would resist, that he wasn’t interested in sharing any of the details of his life. Maybe that’s best, Kerri told herself, and even better that I don’t share any details of my own.

  He took the 10 West to the Pacific Coast Highway heading north of the Santa Monica Pier toward the famous art colony, Malibu. Harden finally pulled the car up just as a big wooden gate opened inward and Harden coasted the Benz through it. The gate closing automatically behind them made Kerri jump as she watched it close in the side mirror. All or nothing, she told herself.

  Harden’s beachside mansion was an incredible Spanish villa, tastefully lit with a simple large fountain in the center of a brick roundabout.

  A man rushed out of the massive front doors and hurried to open Kerri’s door just as the car rolled to a stop. Harden opened his own door and walked around to escort Kerri from the car into the house, the young man getting into the Benz and driving it to the nearby garage.

  The house was huge, a giant foyer and staircase framing the open center room, living room adjoining to the left, what seemed like a massive music room to the right, dominated by a white grand piano.

  They stepped through the house, oil paintings hanging in gorgeous frames, familiar names painted in the corners…; Picasso, Rembrandt, Monet.

  Black-jacketed servants and girls in French maid costumes hovered silently in the other rooms, barely noticeable. Harden noticed Kerri peering at them.

  “They’re paid to be unnoticed,” he said. “Quick, quiet, clean.”

  “I see.—” But the idea that she was surrounded by men and women loyal to this man, servants she could hardly see and could never count, only made Kerri more nervous. The thought that loyalty to their master, not to mention private and personal hungers, might inspire them to participate in some terrible gang assault. Kerri imagined herself besieged by half a dozen of Harden’s fancy henchmen, holding her down while Harden himself closed in, peeling off his shirt, his goons holding her legs spread despite her fitful struggle and useless protests.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked her, interrupting her thoughts. Kerri knew better than to eat on a date, especially if sex was on the playbill but she really was famished, and something told her she’d be needing her strength. Nodding her head, she smiled politely. “Excellent” Harden gestured toward the back of the house. Dinner should be served almost immediately. It’s a beautiful summer night, shall we dine al fresco?”

  “Let’s,” was all Kerri felt that she needed to say; even that felt like it was spoiling the mood.

  The salty ocean breeze was refreshing against Kerri’s bare shoulders, the lobster was buttery and flavorful, a perfect accent to the juicy, peppery steak. Kerri took a sip of chardonnay to wash it down, crisp and refreshing.

  So silly to have been worried, Kerri chastised herself. He wouldn’t do anything to me here, would he? One disloyal henchman, one untrustworthy witness and his life of luxury is over. Surely not even this man could be that arrogant!

  Kerri looked around, hoping a fake smile would help her relax.

  What a night, she reminded herself, what an experience! Why can’t I relax and enjoy it? A handsome, mysterious man, a magnificent beachfront palace, the most delicious food I’ve ever had. What could possibly go wrong?

 
; Everything.

  But it was too late to second guess herself, Kerri knew. Whatever was going to happen, she needed to stay there and see it through. Nothing short of death was waiting for her on the other side of those double doors. If I die in here, she reasoned, it won’t be much worse than dying out there.

  “Chastity, are you all right?”

  Kerri snapped out of her reverie. “Yes, I’m sorry, it’s just … the food, it’s delicious.”

  “So are you,” Harden said with a smile.

  Kerri smiled awkwardly and a tense silence returned, waves crashing in the near distance. “May I ask … what it is that you’re going to do to me?”

  Harden raised his eyebrows, still chewing on his asparagus. “What would you have me do?”

  “Well, I … ” Kerri had to clear her throat. “I just mean, you seem to have spent a lot of money, I’m sure you have something … special in mind?”

  “How do you know I spent anything at all?”

  Kerri hadn’t given it too much thought; it seemed perfectly obvious to her. “The index finger, you and the auctioneer both did it. That didn’t mean one dollar, I don’t suppose.”

  “It could have meant a lot of things,” Harden chastised. “It’s nothing for you to be troubled about.”

  “Well actually, it is; doesn’t most of that money go to me? I have a right to know how much I’m worth. And if I have to endure some kind of weird humiliation or something, I want to know now how much I’m getting for it. That’s only fair.”

  “You want to know, so you can change your mind and leave?”

  Kerri sensed the increasing tension, but she’d stepped past the point of no return. “Maybe.”

  Harden smiled. “I have rights, Chastity, all weekend. I paid very handsomely for them.”

  “Well, all right then,” Kerri said. “That’s really all I needed to know.”

  “What you needed,” Harden repeated, “Interesting turn of phrase. What is it that you need, Chastity? Besides money, I mean.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You were obviously on that block for a reason.” He looked her over with a smile. “I know it’s not because you can’t find a man by more conventional means.”