“Cuz, you beat us,” said Jason.
“I took the jet,” Ben replied.
“Ohhh, you have a jet?” the woman of Southeast Asian descent asked, stumbling toward him. She was as thin as a reed—maybe thinner. “Like a corporate jet or a private jet?”
“Ben has both, I’m sure, probably more,” slurred Derek. “The Lees are one of the wealthiest families in China. What did Forbes peg you at? Twelve, thirteen billion?”
The eyes of the women lit up.
“That’s impressive,” said a redhead with a champagne glass in hand.
Jason wrapped an arm around his petite date. “Ben, this is Lisa. Pretty sweet find, hunh?”
The redhead introduced herself. “And I’m Ryan.”
Jake returned then with the blond, who looked a little worse, as if she had been crying. She looked embarrassed to be wearing her pink cocktail dress while Lisa was casually dressed in a sundress and Ryan was in tight cropped leggings and a halter.
“Hi, I remember you,” said Lisa to the blond. “You’re Claire. You got the highest bid at the auction last night. Congratulations.”
“There’s no Claire here. Her name’s Wench #1,” Jake corrected.
The women did a double take, then Ryan turned to Derek. “Do I get a nickname, too?”
“Sure, you can be Wench #2,” Derek replied.
Ryan giggled.
“That one’s taken already,” Jake informed him.
“Wench #3 it is.”
“And that would make me Wench #4?” Lisa asked.
“She can count.” Jake grinned at Jason.
“Of course she can. Asians are supposed to be good at math,” Derek joked.
“Just select Asians: Chinese, Korean, Japanese and Indian,” Jason said.
“Are you saying I’m not as smart because I’m Thai?” Lisa demanded.
Jason pulled her to him and kissed her neck. “Pretty much, babe.”
“I did hate math. It was so boring, but I got a passing grade because all the boys around me would do the work for me. I call that being smart.”
“Here, you’re graded on something much more fun than math.”
They touched foreheads, and Lisa giggled.
Ben turned to Claire. “There are sandwiches on the table.”
She glanced timidly at Jake, as if not daring to hope for the chance to eat. Ben decided he would have to beat the bastard up if he didn’t feed her.
Jake had walked over to the table. To Claire, he said, “Go over to your spot. Be good and you’ll get to eat.”
“I wanna change and touch up my makeup,” Ryan declared.
Jake sat down with his sandwich and propped his feet on the adjacent chair. “Derek can show you around.”
Jason, Derek, and their dates went upstairs with their bags. Ben walked over to Claire, who had situated herself in the sitting area before the fireplace.
“Something to drink?” he asked her.
She nodded.
“There’s water, tea—”
“You her fuckin’ waiter?” Jake sneered.
Going to the kitchen, Ben poured a glass of water and set it before Claire. She gave him a look of gratitude.
“You’re not trying to starve her, are you?”
“Hey, you worry about your wench, I’ll worry about mine.”
“I’d want to make sure mine had enough stamina.”
“You gotta teach them their place first.”
Ben walked over to the table but stood before the windows. “Is that why you have them sleeping in the basement?”
“You got it. Where’s Wench #2?”
“Taking a nap in my room.”
Jake shook his head. “You’re starting off on the wrong foot. Better to be hard on them at the beginning, then they appreciate it when you’re kind. You start off wussy, they won’t learn who the alpha is, and women want alpha males.”
“You don’t have to be an alpha asswipe.”
Jake bristled. “You got your way, I’ve got mine. Besides, women want this. They want a man to totally dominate them and tell them what to do. I’m just giving them what they want.”
“How come they didn’t come with anything?”
“No time to pack, but it’s not like they’re going to need clothes here.”
“They look tired.”
Jake slowed his chewing as he stared at Ben. “What’s it to you?”
“What do you know about these women?”
“All I need to know. The Scarlet Auction takes care of testing them for STDs, and the women fill out questionnaires about what they like and shit.”
“You get to see the questionnaires?”
“Yep. I only go for women that are game for just about anything. Like Wench #1 here is a virgin.”
“Do you have the questionnaire for Montana?”
“Who? Oh, you mean Wench #2. Nah, I left the printouts at the auction.”
“What do the women get to know about you?”
“Nothing. It’s an auction, not a matchmaking service.”
“What happens if they decide they don’t want to go through with something?”
Jake shrugged. “They can call it quits, but they won’t get their money then.”
Jake crumpled up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it at the wastebasket with a pretty good hook shot.
“Tyrell call you back?” Ben asked.
“Nope.”
“Try him again.”
“What’s your hurry?”
Ben wanted to finish his business with Jake sooner rather than later. He didn’t want to spend the whole week with the guy.
“My dad called asking for an update.”
“Fine,” Jake grumbled before pulling out his cell to make the call.
Ben only overheard the beginning of the conversation because he saw her at the top of the stairs. She was wearing his shirt and sweatpants and looking damn sexy in them. The sweatpants had drawstrings, and she had rolled up the bottoms, otherwise they would have been too long on her. Her full curls, no longer half straightened, were swept back in a hair tie, and she had removed her makeup. Their gazes met, and he was struck by how bright her eyes were.
Holding her half-eaten sandwich, she glanced over at Claire several times as she descended the stairs. He met her at the bottom. The bruise on her cheek had darkened in color, but the swelling had gone down.
“Thank you for the nap,” she said.
“Glad you got some rest,” he replied.
She stared at him with enough intensity, he almost shifted his weight. She was sizing him up again.
“Should I call you Ben?” she asked.
“That’s my name. But I’ll let you know if I prefer something else.”
She stiffened but gave a curt nod. She looked over at Claire. “Do you mind if I talk to her?”
“Go ahead.”
He was ready to change out of his suit but decided against leaving the two women alone with Jake. He watched Montana approach Claire and put a hand on her shoulder.
“You doing okay?” she asked Claire.
Claire nodded.
“You want a turkey sandwich?”
“Hey!” Jake snapped to Ben. “Your wench’s not allowed to talk to mine unless I say it’s okay.”