Chapter Four:

This was the last place Nicholas wanted to be. Around women who giggled and acted nice because they knew who he was. Or, the ones that practically shoved their breast on his face because they wanted to get his attention.

Expensive dishes and champagne filled the tabletops around him. Expensive perfume peppered the air.

A priceless diamond wristwatch dangled around wrists. Diamonds twinkled in the lights.

Gucci and Prada draped over artfully exposed shoulders of women. Stuffy voices with fake, trilling laughs topped off what was pretty much his worst nightmare.

Nine out of ten times, people like the ones around him were concerned about one thing and only one thing.

Money. He'd been one of them. But in a better way. When he worked hard to get to this point, he knew what he was getting himself into. A life of luxury.

Fundraisers. Lavish dinners. Balls. They were all ridiculous excuses to put on your best diamonds and show off how much more money you had than everyone else in the room.

He has always been the most outstanding. He wondered if they would ever end.

Tonight, he was trying desperately to finish up with one of the fundraisers so that he could get mom's idea over with.

He had his assistant put out words of the 'dating fiesta,' he just wanted it over with quickly.

Being around this many fake people was annoying him to a great length.

"More champagne, sir?" A waiter brandished a golden tray filled with whiskey and champagne-like some kind of prize.

Today it was. Money might not buy happiness, but champagne sure made the world seem a little happier, even if only for a little while.

"Yes."

The waiter bowed and moved on to the next guest. A woman in Prada seductively winked at Nicholas, so he lifted his glass in salute and took a long swig.

The bubbles played on his tongue, tickling his throat as I swallowed.

After she turned away seeing that he was so not interested, Nicholas scanned the room for an opportunity to leave.

His assistant, Carl, had texted him three hours ago, informing him that everything was ready. All he had to do was show up and wreak havoc on anyone who dared to show up to the date.

He took another sip and squinted at the stage. A pretty girl was currently on the auction block, seeming as if she wanted to be swallowed up whole by the earth, and he winced in sympathy.

He wouldn't want to stand there while people bid on his worth, either. He would never do that.

The party was getting busy, so he slipped out without anyone noticing and got into the car, driving off.

*********

Getting to the restaurant, it was already packed with desperate attention-seeking women. All dressed in a different manner of skimpy clothing. Some with cheap make-up and fake boobs.

At the sight of them, he felt rage and disgust for every one of them.

Sighting him, they began readjusting themselves in the way ladies did whenever they wanted to get a man's attention.

Ignoring and glaring at them, he passed to a private booth, unbuttoning his suit and securing a seat.

He had rented the entire Co Van Vida bar and restaurant out for this purpose. Making sure that the press and money tasty journalists didn't get a chance to know what was going on.

Fitst, he instructed the management of the place to make sure that no one entered or left with any recording devices and, thoroughly check who came in and out of the place.

It was an open event, things were prone to happen. Especially if it did get his attention.

Ordering a glass of vodka for himself, because he needed lots and lots of it into his system to function today.

He had piloted himself to a robotic mood where he just functioned at a pace. This was going to be a long night. Longer than he could ever imagine.

Gradually sipping his alcohol, the first woman squealed and rushed to his booth.

Her boobs were almost hanging out of the tiny topless blue gown she wore.

She paired it with too much jewellery around her neck and heavy makeup. It was so distracting that he didn't know where to look.

"Hi, my name is Ashley," she started. "I've been dying to meet you. I love the work you do for the universe. I am a blogger. Well, a rich one. I travel the world, have my own house and three cars. I don't know how to cook, but, we can always hire a chef. Right?" For the first time, she stopped to take in air into her suffocated lungs.

Well, no, for Nicholas. Talkative, extravagant spender, and a cheat. Those were his analysis of her.

"Uhmm," Nicholas tried to remember the name again.

"Ashley," she helped him out.

"Ashley, you don't have the potentials I am looking for. Try to spend less time shopping and doing your makeup. Learn how to cook. Develop yourself first. Blogger or whatever, that is just an excuse for lazy girls like you to give, instead of saying you are unemployed. Please see yourself out," he said with an emotionless face.

Nicholas saw the tears threatening to stream down her cheeks as she glared at him and scrambled off.

They kept coming and coming until he got tired.

Some wore a too revealing outfit that you just want to ask them if they didn't check themselves in the mirror before leaving home.

Others, talking about their success and how they've dated top starts that you just want to ask them who they were competing with.

Well, technically, he did tell them. Most of the women that met him scrambled off almost crying and the others told him that he would die a lonely man.

Well, darling, that was actually the plan.

He started feeling dizzy and worn out from having to deal with all the chirping, noise, flashy outfits and strippers calling themselves women that came before him.

Bending to rub his temple before gathering strength to call it a night, people began to murmur.

Full house murmur that could tell they were gossiping about one person. Slowly, he began to raise his head.

Someone was standing before him.