I left the room with Charlotte and we headed downstairs, stepping back into the main area where the music had now slowed.
I pulled Charlotte close, and soon we were swaying to the music. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and my hands rested on her slender waist.
As we danced, I looked around the room.
Emily Heart was dancing with Ryan Bloomberg. They were pressed tightly together. Then, right in front of everyone, they kissed—long and deep.
Before long, they disappeared into one of the side rooms together.
I was starting to think that Emily was a nymphomaniac.
What amused me the most was when I saw Tom King walking out from one of the private rooms, his shirt untucked and his hair messy.
He had been in there for about four hours with that supermodel—the kind of woman you see on every magazine cover.
He missed the dinner and the auction.
His expression was smug, like a man who had just conquered something—or someone.
