Chapter 1

            Charles Michelson was thirty-three years old, good looking, worth two billion bucks, and spent most of his time overseas. He lived every man’s dream. However, the dream was getting old, especially for the last year.

            Charles was experiencing an emptiness — almost a hollow feeling in his stomach and in his heart. He wasn’t sure what was wrong until he decided to visit his family for Christmas. What was missing in Charles’s life was love. Now, that he knew what he needed, he was on the hunt — the hunt for true love.

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            It was November in New York. Charles Michelson had just purchased a townhouse on the Upper East Side. For the past ten months, Charles has been on the search for love in France, London, and Italy. He found plenty of sex — great sex, actually — but no love. He decided to come back to New York to hunt for what he needed, for what he craved.

            His family didn’t know that he had come back to the States. He mostly lived overseas. When he was in the States, he would either stay at a hotel or at the Michelson family home outside of the city. However, if he was going to find the love of his life, he needed privacy. That’s why he had bought the townhouse. It was huge, just like a home. He had hired an interior decorator to make the place classy, yet homey; a place that a woman would feel comfortable in.

            The doorbell rang. Charles put down his drink and walked to the door. He couldn’t imagine who it could be. He was taken aback when he opened the door. His aunt, Claire Hull Michelson, was standing at the door with a big smile.

            “Aunt Claire.”

            “Hello, darling,” she chirped and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She breezed by him like she was a woman in her early thirties instead of a senior citizen in her early seventies. Aunt Claire’s hair was piled on top of her head in curls as usual. Charles noticed that her hair had turned white since he had last seen her, although her hair was still more dark than white.

            Charles quickly closed the door “What—? How did you know I was here?”

            She gave him a beaming smile. “You know I have a way of finding things out in this city.” She stretched her arms out for her coat to be taken off by the help.

            Charles walked to his aunt and started unbuttoning her coat.

            “What on Earth?”

            “I don’t have a butler,” he said and walked behind her.

            “Oh, I see. You haven’t had a chance to hire one yet,” she said as Charles removed her thick white coat.

            “No,” he said as he went to the foyer closet. “I don’t want a staff right now.”

            “What? That’s ludacris,” Aunt Claire said with astonishment. “Judging from the outside, this place is enormous. Someone has to clean it at least.”

            “I have hired one maid to come three days a week.” Charles placed the coat in the closet and closed the door. “That’s all I need.”

            “Since when?”

            Charles took a deep breath as he turned around to look at her. “Would you like a drink, Aunt Claire?”

            “Yes, I need it as I try to decipher what has gotten into you,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

            A few minutes later, they were in the living room. Charles handed his aunt a glass of white wine. Charles sat down next to her on the sofa. He lazily held the wine bottle in his hand.

            “Now, tell me what is going on. Why did you buy this place? What are you doing in New York during the fall?”

            Charles gave her a smirk as he quickly thought of a tangible excuse to give her with the exception of the truth. “I’m diversifying my portfolio. I’m only part owner of the family villa in the south of France, you know.”

            She studied him for a moment. “Is it because of Yvonne and the baby? Do you feel out of place staying at the estate now?” Yvonne Michelson was his cousin’s wife. She just had a baby last year.

            “No,” Charles answered quickly. He had no claim on the Michelson estate located outside of the city since his father left his share to his brother in his will. However, he knew he was welcomed there when he was in the States. “It’s like I said. I needed to diversify my assets a little bit more.”

            She scoffed. “You seem to forget that I know you. We’ve spent our winters together for years at the villa. Why did you really buy a home in New York? It’s obvious that you are not going to rent it out since you have furniture and alcohol here.”

            Charles exhaled. “I would tell you, but you’ll laugh at me.”

            Her head rocked back. “No, I won’t.”

            “Yes, you will. No one takes me seriously in this family.”

            “Of course we do.”

            He gave her a pointed look.

            “Truly, darling,” she said with a worried expression. “Tell me. What’s going on?”

            Charles studied her.  He shook his head. “I think it’s best if I keep it to myself.” He took a swig from the wine bottle.

            “Please, Charles,” she said. “I want to help.”

            Charles swallowed hard. “You can’t.”

            “Oh, God. I knew it. You’re sick, aren’t you?” she whimpered as she placed her hand on her chest.

            “No,” he said quickly. “Look, I’ll tell you, but you better not laugh or tell Calvin.” Calvin Michelson was Charles’s older cousin and head of the Michelson family and empire. Charles knew that Calvin thought he was an irresponsible fool, but it never bothered him — until recently.

            “I promise,” she said and sipped her wine.

            “I came back to New York and bought the townhouse to find a woman.”

            She stared at him for a moment. “Aren’t you always looking for a woman?”

            Charles rolled his eyes. “Not a fun-time girl, Aunt Claire. A . . . a woman to be my wife.”

            Her thin eyebrows arched up. Her mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”

            “Yes.”

            “Oh, well, that . . . that’s something,” she stuttered.

            “You want to laugh, don’t you?”

            “No,” she said quickly. “I’m just surprised. You said for years that you would never marry. That you were a born bachelor.”

            Charles shrugged. “I know, but I’ve become bored with my life. I feel empty, like I have no real purpose or anyone that really cares about me.”

            “I love you like you are one of my sons.”

            He smiled. “I know, but that’s not the type of love I mean.”

            She grinned. “I know. So, you’re looking for a bride. Marvelous. I know all kinds of nice girls in New York.”

            “Oh, no,” he said. “No debutantes for me. They’re boring.”

            “No debutantes, well, not anymore,” she said. “What about Catherine Van Dyke? I tried setting Calvin up with her several times, but you know how that worked out.”

            Charles snorted. He didn’t blame Calvin for not wanting Catherine. Her ass was flatter than an ironing board. “I don’t think she’s for me either.”

            “Well, what kind of wife are you looking for?” she asked and sipped her wine.

            He leaned back on the couch. “Someone that’s fun and interesting. Being a ten in the looks department wouldn’t hurt either.” Charles took a long swig from his wine bottle.

            “Of course,” she said with a smirk. “No one comes to mind yet. But I do have an idea.”

            “What?”

            “Yvonne is throwing a party at the estate to raise money for HIV research. Everyone is coming – including single, good-looking ladies.”

            “Yeah, but it sounds like the party is going to be a drag,” Charles said. “Besides, I don’t want Yvonne and Calvin to get wind that I’m looking . . . for a mate.”

            “Well, I won’t tell them if you don’t. But what’s the big deal? There are people all over the world looking for a mate.”

            “Yvonne would understand, I think, but Calvin. He’ll laugh, call me an idiot, and say that I would ruin a woman’s life if I married her.”

            She cleared her throat. She couldn’t deny it. “All right, it will be our little secret, but come to the party. You might see someone you like. It’s black tie.”

            “It could be a good idea to see what New York society has to offer these days. I’m game. When is the party?”

            “This Saturday.”