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“Ma’am, I have tea for you,” a voice calls out from the other side.

I open the door a crack and a young woman stands with a tray.

“Oh, uh, please come in,” I say to her as I open the door farther.

“Prince August ordered that we bring it up to you. Did you want a six o’clock wake-up call? We can arrange that,” she says as she sets the tray on a table.

“Uh, no, that’s OK. Thank you.”

“Very well. Breakfast will be at eight in the main dining hall,” she adds as she bows her head and heads off toward the hallway.

A text comes through my phone a minute later.

August: You get the tea?

Me: Yes.

August: Good, then get your ass down to the gym. You could use a good stretch.

Me: Seriously?

August: As a heart attack.

I roll my eyes and change into the one pair of workout clothes I’ve packed before joining August in the gym. It only takes me asking two employees before finding it. A home gym is an understatement. This looks more like the gym at my university, both in size and equipment.

But my eyes stop at something not affixed to the gym, something that I shouldn’t be staring at. Auggie looks like he was made to work out in this gym. He’s every woman’s fantasy. I’m mesmerized by the sweat running down his body as he lifts weights.

“About time you got here,” he says, looking at me in the mirror with a smirk on his face.

I put my hands on my hips. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

He spends the next hour putting me through my paces. His trainer, a nice guy named Gerard, helps us, but Auggie is a professional in here. He’s at home and it shows. I, however, am a fish out of water. Twice I have to will myself not to be sick.

And at the end of the workout, I collapse on the mat and refuse to move…possibly ever. Auggie then explains that he follows up workouts with a full-body massage. That gets me up and moving.

August

Kate is slowly becoming my addiction. I spend two days, sneaking her in my room at night so I can spend countless hours worshipping her body. I almost forget about my distraction that I had requested, almost.

And then Anna goes and reminds me.

“You still heading to Cannes this weekend?” she asks as she grabs a cookie from the jar in the kitchen, a bad late-night habit.

“Yep,” I mumble as I chew on the delicious goodness that only Tessa can create.

“Well, we need to debrief first. You need to know exactly what you are getting yourself into, Augs. This isn’t a crowd for the faint of heart. These guys are…well, they aren’t exactly rainbows and butterflies if you know what I mean.”

“Geez, Anna, here I thought we’d go drink together and maybe have pedicures after the auction,” I say as sarcastically as possible.

She punches me in the arm. “Don’t be an ass. I’m serious.” Her eyes convey that she means business.

“OK, got it. Name the time and place and we can debrief,” I say, grabbing one last cookie and handing one to her. Anna’s better when she has food.

“Well, now’s as good a time as any,” she replies as she walks out of the kitchen. “Come on,” she adds from the hallway. I follow her up to her private study, sending Kate a text that I’m running late for our evening rendezvous.

One hour later, I’m feeling like I may have bitten off more than I can chew. Some of the regulars at this auction are seriously bad guys: mob bosses, underworld crime leaders, cartel heads, and dirty politicians make up the majority of the list. There are a few rebellious Hollywood types as well. We concoct a back story for me, which isn’t hard because the media has painted such an atrocious picture of the bad boy rebel that I merely need to act the part.

“OK, I think that’s everything,” Anna finally says, closing her laptop. She drops something in my lap.