6. Dameon
Chapter six
Dameon
“D id you hear what happened to Sheppard Media? They’re announcing their insolvency next week…”
I tune out the conversation around me and sweep my eyes over the crowd, looking for my goddess in white. She reappears from the bathroom, and my eyes are instantly drawn to her, bright like a light cutting through the sea of inky black. Every man in this room has her in his sights, some with clear interest in their eyes, others with mild amusement. Doesn’t help that she’s dressed in a white gown that’s teetering on the edge of obscene. If she was looking to make a statement, she has. I suppress a groan when she turns around. That dress . Her back is exposed right down to the top of her perky ass. My fingers itch to trail down her spine and watch the goosebumps break out in their wake.
Seeing her with Mark Strickland twice in twenty-four hours has me more than intrigued. What’s an escort from Sydney doing in New York with one of the most ruthless businessmen in the city? She must have been bought and paid for.
“Anyone know her story?” I lift my chin in her direction, interrupting the conversation around me.
“Who, the white swan?” Jacob responds with a sly grin, his eyes lingering on her.
“Like you didn’t know who he was referring to.” Dylan rolls his eyes. “She’s gotta be Mark’s date.”
“Nope.” Jacob grins. “That, dear friends, is my future wife.”
Dylan laughs out loud, and my fist unexpectedly clenches around the glass of bourbon in my hand.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Explain,” I demand, my tone sharper than intended.
“Her name is Hailee Mann. She just happens to be Mark’s stepdaughter. And”—he pauses dramatically, relishing the moment—“she’s up for sale.” His grin widens, and all I want to do is wipe it off his face.
“And what? You’re considering ‘buying’ her?” Dylan asks incredulously.
“Fuck yeah, I am. Have you seen her? And get this, she actually is a hooker. She works as a goddess at Eden in Sydney. I heard she sucks dick like a pro too.”
My jaw clenches at his crude tone and disrespectful words. But he’s not wrong. She’s brought me to my knees in ecstasy many times with her exceptional oral skills. She’s a master of her craft—her lips, tongue, throat, teeth, and hands all work harmoniously to suck the cum straight out of my balls. I can tell she genuinely enjoys it, reveling in the power trip of making men lose their minds.
“Eden… Is that the kinky brothel I heard about?” Dylan asks.
“What do you mean, she’s ‘for sale?’” I ignore Dylan’s question and keep my voice flat and even this time.
“Mark wants to marry her off so she can push out a couple of brats to take over his throne. He’s presenting her tonight, introducing her to potential suitors. A debutante, if you will.”
“And you want to get married?” Dylan scoffs.
“Fuck no, but you’d be stupid not to put your hat in the ring. Getting access to Mark’s empire when he retires is worth it alone. Plus, pumping her full of cum every night wouldn’t exactly be a hardship. If I get bored of her, I can always get a side-piece.”
I really want to punch this guy in the face. Jacob is young, decent-looking, and uber-wealthy. I can see why Mark would consider him for Hailee. I roll her name around in my head for the first time. We’ve never exchanged names or any personal details at Eden. She’s always been “goddess” or “kitten” to me. But Hailee… it suits her.
“Too bad you can’t make a bid,” Jacob gloats at me. My teeth clench, suppressing a growl.
“Why can’t he?” Dylan asks, frowning.
“Mark attempted a hostile takeover of Hayes & Hayward Media a few years back, but it fell through. Let’s just say, Mark didn’t handle the failure well. Dameon would have no chance in hell,” he snorts.
Unfortunately, he’s right again. Mark and I aren’t exactly enemies, but I also wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire. Besides, while I enjoy Hailee’s company, marriage isn’t my style. Still, it might be fun to make an insane offer just to see if he bites. Mark’s a cunning businessman, and I doubt he’d consider Hailee’s wishes if the price were right. Or… I could outmaneuver him and claim her for myself, fucking up his plans. Revenge served icy cold. I sip my bourbon and size up the competition. Dylan’s out of the running, being married and all. Jacob poses a threat, and then there’s Douglas Lawry, who was speaking to her earlier. He’s buried more wives than Henry VIII. I scan the room, eyeing up potential adversaries.
“Want to make a bet? Let’s make this interesting,” I propose to Jacob. “If I win her, your penthouse in Paris is mine.” I raise an eyebrow in challenge. “And if you win, my Milan villa is all yours.”
“Oh, you’re on.” He smiles confidently, like he’s got this in the bag already. I grasp his outstretched hand. Dylan simply watches, shaking his head at our stupidity.
Let the games begin.