Chapter 4 Carter
CARTER
That was quite the show. I almost want to applaud Carmen for her spectacular Broadway performance.
But I suppose I’ll get to do that later, when I take her home.
Vex elbows me in the side like I’m suddenly the enemy. “What the fuck?” he hisses in my ear. “How much have you had to drink? Put the blackboard down.”
Vex can’t tell me what to do. He’s not in the police force anymore, even though he still acts like it from time to time.
“I know her,” I murmur under my breath.
That gets Skipper interested. “You know her?”
“Keep your voice down.” I return my gaze to the auctioneer and give him my best smile. I dread to think what I look like right now. It probably looks like I’m constipated.
The auctioneer reads the number aloud and I confirm.
What else was I supposed to do? Let Conrad O’Neill, the devil in disguise, have his way forever with the girl I got to know first?
Carmen stands on stage, arms crossed over her chest. I wish she’d stop doing that. All it’s doing is emphasizing the shape of her breasts, and making me even more annoyed with her.
She shouldn’t be here.
Why the fuck is she here?
“Are you gonna tell us how you know her?” Vex asks.
“I will,” I say, answering his question promptly to shut him up. “Later.”
I go back to staring at her on stage and hoping this isn’t karma.
The night I spent with her is symbolic. I don’t expect these two turds sitting next to me to understand that.
Carmen was the last woman I slept with back when I was still acting CEO of Milton’s Milkshakes. September 22nd, three years ago, was Carter Trescott’s last day on earth.
The day after I hooked up with Carmen, reality came crashing down on me.
Hard.
How the fuck is the club supposed to fork out millions of dollars, all for a girl? Venom Vultures MC isn’t made of money. I suppose I’ll have to get reacquainted with my accountant and pay for some of the damage myself.
The auctioneer walks over to Carmen and tugs her hand.
The shell shock is there in her eyes, wide for even the blind to see. I look at her and feel something strike through my chest.
I crossed paths with Carmen for a very short space of time—two hours to be exact. We met because she plonked herself in my lap and begged me to kiss her.
Begging wasn’t necessary. If it wasn’t for the other hundred girls fighting to try and win over my attention, I would’ve gone straight to her.
She straddled my lap and kissed me for approximately twenty seconds. The security guard then caught us and kicked us out for public indecency, apparently.
Even though my hand was nowhere near her nipple.
We ended up at her place. The sex was incredible, and when it was over, she went to pee and I went to leave. That just about sums up our time together.
And that was the last time I ever walked away from a girl without saying goodbye.
The memory still haunts me. She was beautiful and I was too arrogant to even tell her that. Instead, I ran my mouth about Milton’s Milkshakes, and how I became a CEO before the age of twenty-five.
She didn’t seem too impressed about that.
But she still decided to sleep with me.
I wake from my trance to see Conrad staring at me like a hawk, like I ruined his master plan.
He can ask me what I’m thinking if he wants.
I can’t answer that question, even if I’m the one asking. I just know I couldn’t bear to see Carmen leave with him tonight.
Maybe it was just intuition taking over.
She looks at me with questioning eyes and pursed lips, staring at me the same way she did three years ago, like I’m the only thing in her radius.
If she thought I was an asshole three years ago, I dread to find out what she thinks of me now.
The woman is still a sight to behold. She looks even better in the flesh than she did in my dreams. This time, her light brown hair is curly. Last time our paths crossed, she wore it straight. Her skin is still just as bronzed and smooth as it was then.
It’s sad to see that she still hides her freckles with makeup. It was the same thing three years ago. I didn’t even know she had them until the makeup evaporated off her skin when things got heated in the bedroom.
It baffles me why she chooses to hide them.
It’s my favorite feature of hers…among other things.
Her breasts were also another part of her anatomy that I couldn’t keep my eyes off. They were so rounded and perky, and look even more so now. Did she get a breast enhancement?
She’s also more curvy than before, her hips wider, her ass even fuller than before. How could a beautiful woman possibly get any more beautiful?
A few minutes ago, she was running rogue around the stage impersonating a dying crow, and I still have a semi.
It shrivels up the minute Conrad pushes his way over to me.
“What are you doing?”
I take advantage of my height to stare down at him, hoping it makes him feel small. “Isn’t it obvious? Betting.”
The boar looks at me, anger written across his face.
The auctioneer brings Carmen to me.
My heart is beating out of my chest, sweat running down my brow. I don’t know why I’m showing symptoms of anxiety for a girl I knew for two very short hours. It’s definitely not because I’ve spent the past three years wishing for more time with her.
Even though I know it’s not good for me.
The auctioneer joins her hand with mine, and she lets go immediately.
Now that she’s up close, I realize that she’s even more of a fucking vision. Even though she looks like she wants to shoot me dead.
But weapons aren’t allowed in here, so she settles for the next best thing—a slap across the face.
And I take it. It’s what I deserve for leaving without saying goodbye.
That’s when I realize I might’ve made a mistake.
Might.
It’s my own fault that I manifested her back into my life.
I used to dream about her a lot. Now, it’s not as often, but when I first joined the MC a year ago, I was dreaming about her almost every night.
She was the last person Carter Trescott, CEO of Milton’s Milkshakes, spoke to before he became just Carter.
It makes sense why I could never stop thinking about her.
But Vex might have a point. Why the fuck did I outbid Conrad? This could be more trouble than it’s worth. Carmen isn’t your average woman either. Even though I barely know her, I have a talent for spotting no-shit-takers out of the crowd.
This woman has an ass that doesn’t quit. Better yet, she has an ass. A magnificent one that looks like it hasn’t been spanked in a while.
It’s one thing for the past to come back into your life.
Another entirely to bid millions of dollars to invite a ghost from that past back in.