The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(80)

His eyes turn to slits. "Why?"

Amy from membership walks out. "Mr. Gallow, can you step into my office for a quick minute?"

"I have people waiting," he declares in his haughty tone.

Amy nods and smiles bigger, but it's a strained expression. "Yes, but there's an important issue I need to discuss."

He seethes, "What would that be?"

I chuckle inside. Witnessing this is priceless.

Amy puts her hand on his arm and says, "Mr. Gallow, I think it's better if we speak in private."

"Just give her a minute. I'll wait here for you," I assert.

Hugh huffs, follows Amy into the office, and she shuts the glass door but not all the way.

She motions to the chair. "Have a seat, Mr. Gallow."

"I don't have time for this. What's going on, Amy?" he demands.

Her nervousness is apparent in her tone when she informs him, "The check bounced for your annual memberships dues. Do you happen to have a check for another bank account?"

Hugh groans, announcing, "I've been the target of fraud. All my accounts have been hacked. But here, take this." He drops his credit card on the wood.

So predictable.

"Thank you. Just one moment," Amy chirps. A moment of silence passes, and she clears her throat again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Gallow, but your card's been declined."

He barks, "That's impossible. I have no limit."

"I'm sorry, but it says it's declined."

"Run it again."

"Yes, sir," she says. Another moment passes, and Amy gets even more uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Mr. Gallow, but this isn't going through. Do you have another card?"

"Why would I need another card? Did you not hear me? I have an unlimited amount of credit," he booms.

"Mr. Gallow, you might want to keep your voice down. I'm sure that we can work this out."

"This is ridiculous. Figure it out, Amy," he demands, rises, and storms out of the room.

She follows him. "Mr. Gallow, we have to sort this out!"

I hand her my card. "Run it on this. He's got some issues going on."

She hesitates. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Mr. Madden."

"No problem. I apologize for his behavior. He's stressed," I state.

"It's okay." She runs the six-figure fee on my card, then hands it back to me, smiling. "All set."

"Thanks."

"No, thank you," she replies.

I nod and leave the room, moving toward the restaurant. I run into Hugh as he's leaving the restroom. His face looks damp. I inform him, "I had her run my card."

"I didn't need you to do that," he claims.

"Well, it sounded like you have a problem, partner. Only makes sense I would help you out. You'd do the same for me, right?" I add, knowing he wouldn't without holding it over my head.

He takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders. Reminds me a little bit of when Blakely does it, except now, I can't stand it when he does it. Pride sweeps through me when my pet's confidence grows.

He replies, "Whatever we need to do. This is just ridiculous."

"Agreed," I respond.

Amy appears. She hands me a piece of paper. "I forgot to give you your receipt." She glances at Hugh and smiles. "You're all set for the year, Mr. Gallow."

He scowls at her.

"Thank you, Amy," I say, taking the receipt. I steer Hugh toward the restaurant.

He stomps along the tile.

We get outside the restaurant. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Hugh."

He spins. "What?"

"Take a breather. You look like you're about to have a heart attack," I declare, wanting him to be anything but calm when the next thing happens.

He hesitates, then nods. "You're right. It's just these hackers. I don't understand why they're targeting me."

"We'll figure it out," I assure him.

"How? The banks won't even let me keep my money there. I have all my cash in a safe," he admits.

"Shit. That sucks. Well, at least you know where it's at," I add, doing the happy dance inside. His fortune is mine. I've never been a thief until now, but he's earned all the misery that's coming to him.

"It's ridiculous," he claims.

I nod. "Can't do anything about it right now. Let's go eat. We're keeping everybody waiting."

The hostess leads us to a table with half a dozen of Hugh's cronies. I can't stand any of them but play my part.

We're halfway into the meal, and I'm so anxious with excitement, I'm trying not to tap my fingers on my thigh. It's a bad habit I'm picking up from Blakely.

I should have fucked her before I left.

The TVs in the restaurant all turn on. They're normally used for sporting events—specifically horse races, golf, or tennis matches. One thing the members love is betting absurd amounts of money. So the big screens fill the walls, and the members vote yearly to upgrade them to the newest technology.

Blakely's face appears, and Hugh's hand grips the table's edge. He snarls, "What the fuck is going on?"