Surprise Bidder

I don’t return it. I’ve seen him at the Club before, once at a business symposium in Berlin, and also at a few parties, though not the last one. I’ve heard the rumors about him, too.

Owen Reed. The man with dozens of friends but no allegiances. He’s been the CEO of several companies. He’s had three wives, five prizes and a number of lovers. He has houses in a lot of countries, shares in a number of sports teams. Not a man you can trust- and definitely not a man I trust.

In fact, I’ve been trying to steer clear of him, but somehow, we often end up bumping into each other, which I don’t believe is a coincidence. What does he want from me? Money? Information? Influence? Surely not friendship, because we have nothing in common. We’re complete opposites, in fact. He was born to riches and then later got disowned by his father, which is probably what inspired such a sense of loyalty in him. Besides, he must know I don’t have friends, just associates- whom I work with only because it’s necessary- and enemies to crush. The rest I don’t bother with. But if he’s going out of his way to get my attention, maybe I should find out if he’s the former or the latter.

“No,” I answer. “I don’t see why he would.”

Owen runs his fingers through his sandy blond hair and nods. His large ruby ring gleams under the light.

“True. I mean it’s all fun and no work, right? He makes money. He makes the rules. He gets to bully all of us around. He has no shortage of women. Damn, that’s the kind of life I’d love to have when I’m in my fifties.”

I say nothing.

He leans towards me. “So, what do you think he called all of us here for?”

I shrug. Even if I did know the answer, I wouldn’t feel inclined to share it with someone whose intentions I’m still trying to put a finger on.

“Same here,” Owen says. “I don’t have a clue. Maybe there’s not even a reason. Maybe old Elias just wants us all to know that we’re dancing in the palm of his hand.”

“He wouldn’t waste our time just for that,” I counter.

I wouldn’t put it past Owen, though.

“Unless he’s gone senile,” Owen remarks. “How old is he again? Seventy?”

“Sixty-four,” I answer.

“Old.” Owen gives a disapproving click of his tongue. “Why is it that old men hold the power when we young ones are smarter and stronger?”

Something tells me he’s not talking about Elias anymore.

“Because power is earned,” I tell him. “And not overnight.”

He grins. “Or it can be bought.”

I suppress a frown. I think I understand how his mind works now, and I definitely don’t think I can do business with him, which means he’s in the other category. An enemy to keep an eye out for and crush if he gets in my way.

He’d better not.

Owen nudges my arm. “By the way, I heard you got yourself a new prize. They say she’s beautiful. Tell me, is this one more obedient?”

My stomach clenches. I don’t know what bothers me more- the fact that he seems interested in my current prize or him bringing up the past. That reminds me: I still haven’t found out who alerted the Council about the unfortunate events that occurred last time. Could it have been him?

I wouldn’t put that past him either.

It’s a good thing Elias finally appears to end the conversation before it turns bad. He comes in through one of the side doors and goes straight to the stage. Thomas is right behind him, as always, along with two other members of the Council.

Only two? Weren’t there supposed to be five of them?

The three other men take their seats behind the long table. Elias remains standing and grabs the microphone.

“Good afternoon.” His voice sends a hush throughout the function room. “And thank you for coming. I know you all have very busy schedules. Believe me, I did not want to call all of you here. I’d much rather see you around at the Club. But I’m afraid there is a grave matter that must be discussed.”

“Enough with the suspense already, old man,” Owen mutters beside me.

I ignore him.

“A member of our Council, a friend of mine, Daniel Lawson, has recently passed away.”

My eyes grow wide and my hand involuntarily goes to my face to stroke my beard. I just met with the man a few weeks ago, trying to negotiate a new business deal with him. It didn’t go as smoothly as I hoped, but I was so sure I’d get my way in the end that I decided to give up shaving until I did.

Judging from the curse I hear from across the table and the gasp from the next, I’m not the only one taken by surprise. Owen lets out a whistle.