My mouth watered when he named the restaurant. “Awesome! Never been, but I’ve heard good things. I’m usually so slammed with work and school that I end up cooking myself a quick meal or eating on the go—a gourmet dinner sounds amazing.”
“Great. It’s walking distance, plus I wanted to go somewhere that wasn’t too noisy so we could talk.”
I shrugged. “Sure.” I didn’t have any expectations about tonight, other than to raise money, so a free, delicious meal and conversation sounded fine. Left to my own devices back at the university, I’d likely be feasting on day-old pizza and soda while I hurried my way through work on the online magazine and studying.
We left the restaurant where the auction was being held and took the short walk to Danizbar, which turned out to be only a block away. “So, I guess you don’t get as much time to cook anymore, since you’re so busy with the magazine and school?”
Uh, say what? How did he know that I used to cook a lot? The magazine and school had been mentioned in my bachelor bio, but cooking? I was pretty sure that hadn’t come up. Before I could ask, though, we’d reached the restaurant. A doorman swept the large, sleek black doors open for us and after one look at Alex, and the host greeted him by name and quickly gathered up two menus and led us directly to a booth in the far back corner.
Huh. Apparently Alex came here a lot.
Once we were seated in the sumptuous leather alcove and the waiter delivered our drinks, Alex turned to me. “How do you like the anthropology post-grad studies at Temperance Christian?”
I paused with my beer halfway to my lips. Okay, now this was getting weird. The auctioneer had mentioned I was a graduate student, but I was positive she hadn’t named the exact school. “I’m enjoying it—we’ve got a great department and faculty support. But, how did you where I went to school?”
Alex lifted his hands and winked at me. “Busted—I knew who you were before the auction started. In fact, you’re the whole reason I came,” he said.
I swallowed a hefty sip of beer, barely noticing the delicious citrus flavor as I appraised Alex with new eyes. “You want to fill me in? Otherwise, I’m just going to sit here, drinking the beer you paid for and wonder if you’re some kind of hipster stalker. Like, how concerned should I be for my well-being, on a scale of one to ten?” My tone was casual, but my muscles tensed. I mean, Alex didn’t look or act like a stalker. Then again, neither did stalkers. At least, not the good ones—like Ted Bundy.
Alex threw back his dark head and laughed, slapping his leg in the process. “Oh my—priceless! Hipster stalker, that’s a new one. Wait until I tell Monsieur.” He paused and grimaced. “Or maybe I’d better not—no need to get his undoubtedly starched and ironed boxers in a wad. I’m sorry, let me fill you in quickly, so you quit glancing over your shoulder at the door like you might make a break for it. You were referred to me by Shelton Greene.”
I relaxed when I heard the familiar name. Shelton was a good guy. If he’d directed Alex my way, then Alex must be okay. “Do you need editing services? Because I’ve got to say, I give this approach,” I gestured to my beer stein and the sparkling crystal chandelier, “a thumbs up. Can’t say I’ve ever been beered and dined to lure me into an editing job before—a man could get used to this.”
Alex grinned at me. “I’m so glad to hear that you dig this kind of lifestyle, because my proposition involves exactly that. Not editing, but an invitation to become a consort for the Billionaire Club. You’ve heard of the club, right?”
My sip of beer went down the wrong way, and I coughed for a few seconds while my eyes watered. I used a napkin to cover my mouth while my mind whirled. The fuck? Sure, I’d heard of the Billionaire Club, but only through whispers and legends. No one was one-hundred percent sure of what to believe about the club—apart from the fact that the membership was incredibly exclusive, had something to do with sex, and included, well…billionaires. Because, duh.
“I’ve heard the name before,” I said cautiously.
Alex nodded. “Good, that always makes things a little easier. I’m sure you have questions about consorts, though, so let me give you a brief explanation. I’m a recruiter for the club, so my job is basically to find eligible young men like you who I think will be a good fit for our patrons. There’s an entire process and I’ll email you the details if interested, but, I like to jump right to the good stuff first. As a consort, you’ll receive a generous initiation gift, just for passing the interview and attending an Open Call event—which is basically a fancy name for a singles mixer. And by generous, I mean—you need your tuition covered? The club will take care of it. Or, you have a business venture that needs funding? Done. Your call, and it’s all negotiable.”
Say what? I shook my head, because clearly I was hearing things. “Did you just…the club will pay for a business venture, just to attend an open call event?”
Alex nodded. Whoa. “What’s the catch?”
Alex held up an elegant hand. “Let me finish going over the benefits first, and then we’ll get to that. As a consort, you’ll also be gifted a club-appropriate wardrobe, and if you’re chosen by one of our patrons and enter into a contract to be his consort, then all of your entertainment, clothing, travel, and associated costs will be assumed by your patron. Many of our consorts go on to sign lifetime contracts, or even get married…and of course, there’s the invaluable networking opportunity you’ll receive from attending these events and rubbing elbows with our city’s most wealthy men. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. Why don’t you give yourself a few minutes to process that while we look over the menu and order?”
Fine by me. My head reeled with everything he’d just told me. Free trips? Cash gifts? Wardrobes and food? Sure, the whole consort and patron thing was a little outside of the normal world, but I guessed billionaires probably had lots of weird rules they lived by that us normal guys never had an inkling about.
I glanced at the menu and my mouth immediately began to water. So many delicious looking entrees, it was hard to choose. I finally decided on the fresh sea bass. The waiter appeared like magic once I closed my menu, with a wine bottle to refill Alex’s glass and a fresh beer for me. We ordered, and then Alex leaned back against the booth and draped one arm across the top; the picture of ease.
Recruiter for the BIllionair Club, huh. There was definitely a story there. I mean, fromthe way this had all played out, I was pretty sure that you didn’t get a job like that by cruising the want ads on Craigslist. I wondered how he’d lucked into the job.
“Any questions, off the top of your head?” Alex said.
I tried not to snort. Like only a hundred or so. “One main one, I guess—this is all consensual, right? No one has to hook up with someone they aren’t interested in?”
For the first time, Alex’s expression turned serious. “No, absolutely not. Consent is a crucial element for the Club. In fact, there’s a whole strict process we follow, which includes a trial period of three dates where no sex is allowed. At the end of that time, both parties must agree to either enter into the relationship or else the contract is voided.”