The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(5)

“Sweetie, you need to eat,” Luna said. “I’ll get you something.”

“I ate before we left,” I said, but Luna ignored me in her quest to find one of the appetizer-bearing waiters.

“Maybe we should have stayed in tonight,” Emily said, her voice laced with concern.

“It’s good for me to be seen,” I said. “If I disappear it’ll just blow the whole thing out of proportion.”

Emily gave me the side-eye while she dug her phone out of her clutch. A little smile crossed her lips as she typed. She’d been dirty texting her boyfriend Derek all night. We’d only been gone for a few hours, but the four of us—Daisy was around here somewhere—had come to the Florida Cancer Research Society’s fund-raising auction as each other’s dates. A slightly stuffy version of girls’ night, but at least we were here for a good purpose.

“I’m not going to lie, Emily. I’m a little jealous of the hot sex you’re going to have tonight,” I said.

“What makes you think I’m having hot sex tonight?” Emily asked.

It was my turn to give her the side-eye.

Her lips turned up in a smile. “Okay, fine.”

Luna came back and handed me a cocktail napkin with a pastry triangle.

“Thanks, Moon.” I took a bite and the flaky pastry practically melted in my mouth. “Okay, you were right, these are to die for.” I wasn’t sure how Luna lived without bacon—or cheese—but I admired her dedication to her principles. And this spanikopita was amazing.

“Has anyone told you how fucking fantastic your ass looks in that dress, Cam?” Daisy appeared out of nowhere and grabbed my ass cheek. “I swear to god, whatever Inda makes you do is working.”

“She loves to torture me,” I said. Inda was my personal trainer and an Israeli goddess. My girl crush on her was no secret. I wasn’t sexually attracted to women, generally, but if Inda had been single, I’d have given it serious consideration.

Daisy leaned back to check out my ass again. “Worth it. I’d totally do you.”

“That would make for some fun gossip.” I sipped my drink.

“If you want to go make out in a corner, let me know.” Daisy winked at me. “Give them something else to talk about. I’ve got your back, babe.”

“Careful, she’s probably not kidding,” Emily whispered.

I knew Daisy wasn’t kidding. Her impulsiveness and flair for the dramatic meant you never knew what she was going to do next.

“Tempting,” I said. “My hair does look great, so I’m camera ready. Although I think a public display of sexual experimentation might be the wrong PR move for me right now.”

“Disagree, but suit yourself,” Daisy said.

“Have you bid on any silent auction items?” Luna asked.

“I’m getting that.” Daisy pointed to a large jewel-encrusted glass giraffe. “Isn’t it fabulous?”

It was hideous, but that was probably why Daisy had to have it. “Why do I suspect they procured that specifically because Daisy Carter-Kincaid was on the guest list?”

Daisy was another member of our odd little foursome. On the surface, she looked like a socialite party-girl, with her constantly changing hair and intentionally scandalous wardrobe choices. What the gossip rags neglected to mention was how hard she worked managing—and expanding—her family’s real estate empire.

A man in a black tux paused by the item and wrote on the bid sheet.

“Oh hell no. He is not getting my giraffe. I’m going to go outbid the shit out of him.” Daisy paused, her lips curling in a smile. “I might do more than outbid him. He’s cute.”

“Girls’ night, Daisy,” Emily said. “No dates.”

“Who said anything about a date?” Daisy asked. Her hips sashayed in her shimmery hot pink dress as she sauntered over to the silent auction tables. Poor guy didn’t know what was about to hit him. Daisy was on the prowl.

The hairs on the back of my neck kept standing up, like someone was watching me. I glanced around the cavernous ballroom. Guests in designer gowns and custom-tailored tuxes milled around the auction items. Others were seated at their tables, finishing their desserts or sipping drinks. Clusters of people stood in knots around the room, chatting with cocktails in their hands.

And a fair number of them seemed to be casting judgmental glances in my direction.

“People are watching me, aren’t they?” I asked.

“Yes,” Emily said, and I appreciated her no-bullshit answer. “But can you blame them? It’s been all over the news.”

“What?” I hissed.

She looked at me like I’d suddenly gone insane. “You saw the articles. We were talking about them last night.”

“Oh, the thing in the parking garage.”

“Cam, someone basically attacked you. How can you be so flippant about it?”

“He didn’t even get my purse.”

I wished everyone would stop making such a big deal out of the so-called attempted mugging. Some random guy in a mask and hoodie had tried to grab my purse after work the other night. I’d stomped on his foot with my heel and rushed back into my building while he wailed in pain. It had barely been an incident worth mentioning, but the press was acting like it was big news.