Chapter 111 Board Wars
"Don't move," Alexander's deep voice murmured against my ear as he pulled me closer against his chest. "You must be exhausted from the journey. Tonight, you need proper rest."
The soothing scent of his sandalwood cologne enveloped me as I drifted off to sleep in his arms.
When I opened my eyes the next morning, it was already eight. I was still nestled in Alexander's arms, exactly where I'd fallen asleep. I shifted slightly, trying not to wake him, but his arms tightened reflexively around me.
"Awake?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep as his eyes slowly opened.
I nodded in response.
After we both freshened up, we headed downstairs for breakfast.
I practically inhaled my breakfast, too excited about the surfboard exhibition to savor the food.
---
When we arrived at the exhibition center, Nick was waiting at the entrance, looking annoyingly fashionable in designer jeans and a casual button-up shirt.
"The exhibition starts at 10:30," Nick explained, "but with these VIP passes, we can go in at 10."
Our group was pretty impressive—me, Alexander, Nick, Bill, Luca, and Noah. We must have looked like some kind of entourage as we entered through the VIP entrance, badges prominently displayed.
The moment we stepped inside, my jaw dropped. "Holy shit," I whispered, taking in the sight before me. Row after row of gleaming surfboards, from classic longboards to performance shortboards, each one a work of art. This was absolute heaven.
---
From the corner of my eye, I noticed the exhibition manager whispering urgently to two sales associates who were trailing behind us at a respectful distance.
"What if she likes something that other guests want as well?" one of the sales associates asked nervously.
"Listen carefully," the manager instructed. "Mrs. Sterling and her group have invitation codes 001 through 008. She gets priority purchase on all limited edition boards—sixteen in total, not counting auction pieces. Whatever she picks, log it immediately. We'll deliver them to the Sterling mansion after the exhibition closes."
I turned my head slightly, catching the manager's eye. He immediately straightened up and hurried over.
"Mrs. Sterling, is there anything you need?" he asked with practiced deference.
I pointed directly at the main display rack. "I'll take all of these except those few over there. That should be sixteen, right?"
"Absolutely, Mrs. Sterling," the manager confirmed without hesitation. The sales associates immediately began tapping on their tablets. "We'll have them delivered to your home after the exhibition closes this evening."
I nodded, satisfied, and moved to sit down with a complimentary drink. Next on my agenda was checking out the auction pieces.
---
"Honey, I want that Ocean Blue model!" a woman's voice suddenly rang out, pointing at one of the boards I'd just claimed.
"Of course," her male companion agreed readily.
The exhibition manager stepped in smoothly. "I'm sorry, sir, madam, but that board has already been reserved."
The woman frowned, flashing her VIP invitation. "Reserved? But we have VIP passes with priority purchase rights! Number 015!"
The manager examined her pass. "Ms. Kennedy, I sincerely apologize, but that board has been selected by our 001 VIP guest."
Undeterred, the woman pointed to another board. "Fine, I'll take that one then. I saw it at a competition in Hawaii—it wasn't even for sale then."
"I'm afraid that one has been reserved as well," the manager said apologetically.
"What?" she looked increasingly frustrated and gestured toward a third board. "How about this one?"
The manager gestured to the few remaining boards. "Ms. Kennedy, the situation is that except for these few boards here, all others on this rack have been selected by the same guest."
"That's impossible!" she snapped. "The rules state one invitation allows selection of only two boards! How can someone reserve so many?"
"The guest in question holds invitation numbers 001 through 008," the manager explained patiently. "Therefore, they're entitled to select sixteen boards."
"Who the hell has that many invitations?" she demanded, her voice rising.
"As I understand it, the original holders voluntarily gave their invitations to this guest," the manager replied, maintaining his professional demeanor despite her tone.
---
"If I'm not mistaken," the woman's companion interjected, "invitation 001 belongs to the designer NM himself. He didn't come but gave his invitation to someone else?"
"That's correct," the manager confirmed.
"And who might that be?" the man pressed.
"Mrs. Sterling," the manager replied, gesturing toward me.
I deliberately turned away, moving toward the auction display cases without acknowledging them. Alexander followed closely behind me, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back.
"Alex, I want these," I said, pointing to several exquisite boards in the auction display. Each one was a masterpiece of design and craftsmanship.
"Done," Alexander responded simply, giving Bill a subtle nod.
Bill immediately began noting down the numbers and models of the boards I'd selected.
---
"Don't take another step," Luca's voice suddenly cut through the ambient noise of the exhibition.
I turned to see what was happening. Luca and Noah had positioned themselves to block two people—the couple from earlier—who were apparently trying to approach me.
"You misunderstand," the man said, hands raised slightly in a placating gesture. "I just wanted to speak with Mrs. Sterling."
I exchanged a glance with Alexander, giving a slight shake of my head to indicate I didn't recognize these people.
Bill stepped forward. "Sir, what business do you have with Mrs. Sterling?"
"I heard Mrs. Sterling received her invitation directly from surfboard designer NM," the man explained. "I was hoping to meet Mrs. Sterling and possibly get an introduction to NM."
As he spoke, I shifted my gaze to Nick, who immediately shot me a warning glare. I suppressed a smile.
"What do you want with him?" I finally stepped forward, addressing the man directly.
"Mrs. Sterling, I'm Mason Kennedy, professional surfer," he introduced himself. "I'm a huge admirer of NM's work."
"Professional surfer, huh?" I eyed him with mild interest.
"Yes," Mason continued. "NM has never made public appearances—I don't even know if they're male or female. Coming to this exhibition was primarily about potentially meeting NM in person."
"I was hoping you might introduce us, given your connection. I'd be incredibly grateful."
I shook my head. "Mr. Kennedy, I'm sorry but I can't help you with that."
"But—"
"As you said yourself, NM doesn't make public appearances," I explained. "So I can't introduce you."
---
"Are you kidding me?" Mason's female companion suddenly interjected, her face flushed with anger. "You're being ridiculous!"
"Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow.
"You took NM's invitation! If it weren't for you, we might have actually met him!" she accused. "And now you won't even make a simple introduction?"
I felt my heart rate kick up a notch—not from anger, but from excitement. Finally, some entertainment! The morning had been almost too smooth so far.