Page 19 of The Betrayer
When we separated, I could see a faint blush on the young woman’s cheeks. Her eyes, too, were large as she took in the pageantry of the room behind me. I highly doubted she had ever been to any event that put wealth on display like this.
“Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Finlay.”
“Please, call me Will. Mr. Finlay is too formal.”
“Okay, Will.” A small, uncomfortable giggle accompanied my name.
Steffanie seemed slightly different here than how she’d behaved behind the bar, somewhat less confident, slightly overwhelmed by what was happening around her. I could see her taking it all in, and she seemed to like it.
Most did.
She was also young, seemingly even more youthful when she wasn’t behind the bar slinging drinks to rich old people. Maybe slightly ditzy? We hadn’t quite talked enough to know for sure.
That was okay—I liked variety in life.
People didn’t realize young people added spice to life that faded in middle age. The people who surrounded me daily were boring—they had their set ways, routines, and beliefs. The members of the board, nearly every last one, had gray hair and a gut, and they sat in that board room discussing earnings and portfolios and vacations to far-off places where their wives and daughters could shop to their heart’s content while they played golf. It was always the same.
Young people like Steffanie, though, were different. They had their entire lives ahead of them, and that was exciting. They went to underground parties, they tried out new clubs, they went on spur-of-the-moment trips to strange places, none of them exotic but all of them unusual. They didn’t talk about children, retirement, their aches, and pains, or divorce settlements. They spoke of experiences, some of them wild, and what they would do the next minute, the next hour, the next day.
For young people like Steffanie, her life right now was all about focusing on the present, and I found that entirely refreshing and energizing.
“Did you like the boutique?” I asked.
She nodded enthusiastically. “It was amazing. I’ve never done anything like that before—everything I wanted they brought to me. They even brought me champagne.”
Steffanie’s eyes glittered with delight, and her gaze still swept the room. I turned, trying to see something that had long ago ceased to have any draw for me through her eyes.
What did she see when she saw the real crystal chandeliers put here for just tonight? When she heard the price of one single auction item going for ten times what she—and maybe anyone in her family—had ever made in their lifetimes? What did she think of the glittering kaleidoscope of the rich and ultra-wealthy in their tuxes and gowns and jewelry that was worth more than half the items in the museum?
Looking at her face, expression starstruck, I wasn’t sure she grasped what was going on here tonight—all the deals that would be made or broken, the socialites who would gain footing or fall back down the ladder, the maneuvering and jockeying for a place at every level of society and business. And all under those same crystal chandeliers that would disappear by morning.
I was glad she didn’t understand because it would ruin her fresh-faced enjoyment of life. It was one of the reasons I didn’t keep women for long—too much exposure to this life, and they changed. Of course, there were a host of other reasons, not the least of which was my dislike of commitment and the way relationships settled into the mundane—one marriage had been enough for me. But that was a big one.
“They took my picture out there, you know. I think they thought I was someone important.” A pleased expression warmed her cheeks. “I gave them my social media handle. Maybe I’ll get a bunch of new followers by tomorrow.”
I only understood about half the words in her sentence, and I didn’t disabuse her of the notion she wasn’t significant enough to grace the society papers or even the gossip magazines.
A flutter of anticipation went through the crowd as the emcee and Paul auctioned off a weekend at an exclusive resort in Bali. It sold for far more than it was worth, of course, and most of the people here had already been on their own dime, but I knew the museum would be happy.
“So, Steffanie.” I watched the next item going up, an heirloom pocket watch. “What do girls in their twenties do these days?”
“Oh, go out at night bar hopping, go out of town for the weekend, meet friends for drinks or dinner.” Her slim shoulders rose in a shrug.
“Do you what to know what men like me did at your age?”
Her blue gaze slid up to mine, then away. Could she tell the answer in my head wasgirls like you?
Instead, I chuckled. “It wasn’t too different. Although, at your age, I was focusing on getting through school and getting to the end of the day at a dead-end, number-crunching job.”
“You were?” Her gaze moved back to me. “How did you get here?”
I slipped my hands into my pocket, standing casually as I watched the emcee quickly end the bidding for the watch. “I got tired of being a pencil-pusher and made something of my own instead.”
Though her gaze remained on me, Steffanie didn’t ask anything further. However, I saw her eyes widen slightly when the emcee announced my name as the next auction item.
I was curious to see how much some of these billionaires’ bored, middle- and late-aged wives would pay to spend an evening with me.
The number ended up being much higher than even I would have guessed, pushed sky-high by a bidding war. It drove up the price high enough that I was sure the museum’s head curator and board would be jumping for joy for their next meeting.
