Las Vegas was a shit hole. Dry air. The sun scalding hot with no hope for a reprieve through most of the year. And the worst part—no ocean. I’d lived and breathed ocean air all my life and would until the day I died. There was nothing more centering and soothing than the ocean. Hence the reason all of my resorts were always booked to capacity. And yet, for some reason, my love, my Alexandra had adored this city. In honor of her, I chose to open a resort here. We broke ground three years ago, on the one-year anniversary of my wife’s passing. The Alexandra was in its final phases and would be opening to the public over the coming weeks. At the time of the auction, it was open to a hundred of our most consistent customers as we tested our systems and setup to perfection.
I watched in shock as Nile Pennington, the most sought-after bachelor in London, pressed the “YES” button for the tall, slinky blonde named Ruby. His twin, Noah, smashed the button on the remote over and over to show his interest as well.
For the same woman.
“What are you guys doing?” I whispered as Nile’s remote lit up like a beacon in his hand.
“What does it look like we’re doing? Showing our interest in receiving the hand of the lovely Ruby Dawson,” Noah hissed. “Only my bloody remote isn’t working!” He waved to an attendant who stood in the back of the room.
The setup was odd. A crescent-shaped, amphitheater-style space where at least fifty or so bachelors and another twenty or more women sat. The lights were extremely low while spotlights lit up the black stage. Madam Alana, a woman who looked around forty or fifty, stood at a podium and auctioned off arranged marriages based on nothing but a name, a bit of information, and the guarantee of a three-year commitment. For no less than a million per year, three million total, if the bidder secured an individual for the base amount. However, the first step was showing an interest. Then the candidate being auctioned would exit the stage and come back for the lingerie portion. However, seeing the giant display screen lit up with interested bidders, I knew things were about to get interesting. Looked as though Nile was not the only one who wanted the blonde beauty outside of his twin, but other audience members as well .
“My remote isn’t working,” Noah complained to the attendant.
The stoic man shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Pennington. As you are aware, in the information provided prior to the event, the candidates are allowed to remove individuals from their auction. This particular candidate disqualified you from voting or bidding on her.”
My friend balked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m deeply sorry. However, there are a few other lovely candidates still to come. Perhaps those will be to your liking.” The attendant turned around and went back to his perch against the wall.
Nile grinned wildly. “Deeply sorry indeed, brother. You will not secure the hand of the fair Ruby. She will be mine and mine alone.” Nile waved his number thirteen paddle at his brother.
“I hate you,” Noah growled. It was the first time I’d ever heard him say those words to his twin, and I actually believed him. The Pennington brothers were wildly competitive. I imagined having identical faces and deep pockets would ramp up that emotion. “She’s perfection,” Noah whispered, his tone filled with sorrow and a hint of anger.
Nile looked straight into his brother’s eyes. “I know. That’s why I’m going to make her mine.”
“Don’t.” Noah spoke in a rough voice that proved how very much this was affecting him.
Nile ignored him. Instead, he smiled widely and waved his paddle in his brother’s face.
Noah stood abruptly, his chair flying backward toward the floor. “You’re going to regret this,” Noah barked.
“I highly doubt it.” Nile sat back and brought his ankle to rest on his opposite knee. Then with the smuggest tone, he said one word to his twin brother. “Checkmate.”
Noah growled under his breath, buttoned his jacket, and stormed out of the viewing room.
The event continued with a beautiful Asian woman who ended up running off the stage in tears when asked to remove her dress. I understood that fear. I myself wouldn’t appreciate being gawked at by a dark room filled with onlookers I couldn’t see. A couple rowdy bidders yelled expletives and were ultimately removed by security in the process. I silently cheered Madam Alana on for that response. At least I knew she cared for the women in her auction.
The next candidate was plucked up by a cowboy, securing a strawberry-blonde who looked so far out of place, I had to chuckle. The woman had fallen on stage, been asked to remove her dress, and pranced around in a pair of cowboy boots. Entertaining, but a reminder that this type of event was not for me. No longer interested in the auction, I yawned and focused my attention on my phone, checking in on Penny. Mother was being bullheaded per usual in her correspondence about my daughter. This time it was a string of damning texts, regurgitating everything she’d said over and over the last four years since I’d been left with a one-year-old daughter to raise on my own.