Page 106 of Fifth Avenue Devil

“Nah. I shouldn’t. I just got out of the hospital. If Dr. Stein knew I was here, he’d have a fit.” Derek gives me the ghost of a smile.

“You are a champion.” I clap him on the shoulder. "It was anyone's race out there. I only won by a hair."

"I saw the replay footage," he mumbles. “You won by forty-five seconds.”

"Look," I say. I point him towards a waiter laden with hors d'oeuvres. "Have some crab cakes. Relax. We're here to celebrate."

I survey the glittering crowd as Derek reluctantly nibbles on a crab cake. A group of beautiful women in slinky dresses catches my eye. They must have been hiding behind a large group of older men. Here, I see the real reason I love these events.

The thrill of the chase. The promise of a night of passion with no strings attached. It's what I'm good at.

What I'mnotoriousfor.

Derek comes to stand beside me. He notices the group of young women, and a smile splits his face. "Right, Cash. You owe me for that race. Time to pay up."

“Is that right?” I take a sip of my champagne and arch an eyebrow. "And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"

"You’re going to be my wingman tonight. I need to get laid. You’re going to do what you usually do. Instead of helping yourself, you're gonna help me, too."

Even as I nod in agreement, I can't help but roll my eyes. Derek does fine for himself, supposing he’s not high out of his mind or rushing home to take care of his teenage daughter. He’s probably the worst parent I have ever met.

And I know Celia and Doug Fordham,myparents. I sigh deeply.

"Fine, fine. I'll be your wingman. But you’d better play it cool."

As I scan the room for potential conquests, I can't help but feel a twinge of concern for my friend. Ever since his wife passed away, Derek's been spiraling. Drinking too much, sleeping around, neglecting his responsibilities.

I clear my throat. "Hey, uh, where's Charlie tonight?"

"With the nanny, probably." Derek shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “Don’t worry about her.”

The dismissive tone in his voice makes me wince. I want to press further. Someone should remind him that his daughter needs him. But I know better. Derek gets touchy when anyone brings up his parenting… or lack thereof.

Before I can change the subject, I spot a familiar face in the crowd. Thank god. I nod my chin toward the door. "Look who just walked in."

It’s Amir Ahmadi, voted ‘Mr. Gotta Have Him’ by the Wall Street Times. Which is their awkward way of saying that Amir is one of Manhattan's most eligible bachelors. I have to admit, he does look dope as fuck in his bespoke charcoal suit and crisp white dress shirt. Right now, Amir is strolling through the party with a stunning woman in his arm. I wave him over, curiosity piqued.

"Cash. What’s up?" Amir greets me with a fist bump. "Congrats on the win today."

I nod my thanks, but my eyes fix on his companion. She's a knockout. Lithe body, long blonde hair, and sparkling green eyes. "Who’s your friend?"

Amir grins. "This is Holly. Holly Barnes, meet Cash Fordham. Holly’s my girlfriend."

Girlfriend? My interest begins to wane immediately. Still, I turn on the charm, flashing her a warm smile.

"It’s truly a pleasure, Holly. How did you two meet? I'd love to know where I can find a woman like you."

Amir laughs. There is a knowing glint in his eye. "Sorry, Cash. That's never going to happen. Holly and I met through a matchmaking service."

"A matchmaker? Really?" I blink, taken aback. That seems pretty old-fashioned.

"Really," Amir confirms. "It's not for you anyway, Cash. We all know you're not interested in meeting ‘the one’. You’re only interested in hookups. My matchmaker wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole."

His words sting more than I'd like to admit. Is that really how everyone sees me? Just a perpetual playboy? It’s notwrong. But I don’t like being so easily quantified.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, trying to appear unbothered.

Amir raises an eyebrow. "Come on, Cash. You know exactly what I mean. The parties, the revolving door of women..."

---