The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(81)

A video flickers with her face. It's only her face. I didn't want to show any other part of her body to these country club assholes. And her hair is dark, with her blueish-purple highlights in it. I chose that photo since I know Hugh will hate it the most. He thinks anything but natural hair color is trashy.

A full minute passes with just her face flickering.

Hugh stands up, slamming his hand on the table, shouting, "Why is my daughter on the TVs? Turn this off."

Blakely's voice tears through the loudspeakers, declaring, "I hate my father." Then it intensifies as her emotion-filled voice repeats, "I hate my father."

My masked voice pushes her, and she admits everything I caught on video when I first tried to break her. She cries, "He's selfish... He's a liar... He's cruel," for another ten minutes, over and over.

Spit flies out of Hugh's mouth as he screams at the staff to turn off the TVs. But no matter what he does, the TVs won't shut down. Jones is the only one with control over them, and the video continues repeating itself at the loudest volume possible.

I pretend to look appalled, pointing at the staff and agreeing with Hugh. "Turn that off!"

When they finally shut down, the entire restaurant is staring at Hugh. The people who claim to be his friends look uncomfortable, and I know he's cracking.

His face is red. He's borderline sweating, and rage radiates from him. "Who did this? Heads are going to roll!"

Everyone in the restaurant avoids his accusing gaze. I chuckle inside. The gossip will fly, and Hugh won't recover from this embarrassment; his impeccable reputation will be tarnished. And all those "friends" of his who've secretly wanted to see him fall will finally have their wish.

I let Hugh have a tantrum for a few more minutes, attempting to calm him, then maneuver him out of the club. We get to the valet, and Hugh seethes, "This is getting out of control, Riggs. Whoever this bastard is will pay!"

"It's going to be bad for business if this keeps up. We need to find out who the culprit is," I agree.

His eyes turn to flames. "Bad for business? My whole personal life is falling into the shitter."

"It'll all be okay. We'll find this guy, but maybe you should lie low for a while?" I suggest.

His car pulls up. He scowls, shakes his head, and storms over to his Mercedes, not tipping the driver.

I toss the guy a hundred, stating, "He's having a bad day."

"Thank you, Mr. Madden."

I nod, and my car pulls to the curb. I tip my valet a hundred, then get into my Porsche, feeling like I'm on top of the world.

I stop at the jewelers and text him.

Me: I'm outside.





His employee comes outside and hands me two boxes.

I drive through town, pull up to the boutique, and text Isabella.

Me: I'm here.





Isabella: Coming right out.





She appears with two men. One carries dress bags and boxes. Another rolls two suitcases.

I roll my window down as Isabella approaches, asking, "Is everything ready to go?"

"Of course," she chirps. "Now, tell me about the lucky woman."

"You'll know soon enough. Thanks," I reply, then roll up my window, not wanting to discuss anything else.

My trunk slams shut, and I take off, driving toward Malibu.

When I get home, Blakely's on the piano playing, singing a new song, but there are only a few words. She looks up and stops. "Hey, what are you doing home so early?"

"Is that a complaint?" I tease.

She grins. "No, it's never a complaint."

More warmth fills me, confirming this is the right thing. I don't remember ever being so damn happy in my life.

She walks over to me, and I give her a kiss. Then I guide her toward the door.

"Are we going somewhere?" she questions.

"Yep. It's a surprise."

"Oh?" Excitement flares in her blues. "Do I get a hint so I can try to guess?"

I chuckle. "It's not a surprise if I tell you, pet." I lead her to the car, and we get in. I drive to the private airport.

She glances out the window. "We're flying?"

"Yep."

Once we're inside the plane and all the luggage, bags, and boxes are loaded, the plane lifts into the air. The flight is just shy of six hours, and when we land, I order, "Go ahead and open the window shade."

She does, gaping.

The sun sets over the water, with mountains highlighted in the brilliant pink backdrop.

She turns to me. "Where are we?"

"Maui."

She beams. "You brought me to Maui?"

"Yep. Let's get off this plane, pet." I rise and lead her onto the tarmac.

A private car's waiting for us. It takes us to the resort in front of Maluaka Beach. It's also known as the secret beach, on the south side of Maui. You can swim and snorkel right off it, and it's usually calm, so you don't have to fight the crazy waves Maui's known for.

I'll go hit some of the surf down the road, but I wanted a place for us to chill out for a bit. The beach is in a cove, so it's calmer most days, without the crazy undertow and waves that terrorize other beaches.