The Mogul and the Muscle - Claire Kingsley Page 0,5

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.

“Do you really think that’s why people are staring?” I asked.

“Why else would they be staring at you?” she asked.

“Because of the fucking sex tape,” I said, lowering my voice.

I drained the last of my martini. Fucking Aldrich. A little over a year into our relationship, when I’d thought Aldrich might be the one, he’d talked me into letting him take a video of us having sex. I’d had a glass or two of wine and the allure of doing something a little bit kinky had overridden my good judgment.

Although I wasn’t watched by the press like Daisy, being the CEO of a major aeronautics company and one of only a handful of female billionaires in the country meant I was susceptible to public scrutiny. It made me extremely careful to curate a professional public image. I acted the part. Dressed the part. And one little lapse in judgment—one night—was looming over my hard-fought reputation like a thundercloud.

I’d trusted Aldrich. That was what really stung. Aldrich’s country club buddies weren’t passing that video around because some jerk had hacked into Aldrich’s computer and stolen it. He’d sent it to them. Sent a video that should have remained private. A video he’d assured me he had deleted long before we’d broken up.

Deleted, my ass.

“If it gets out, Derek and his team will help,” Emily said. “And I don’t think