Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 Read Online Free PDF

search yielded a few helpful articles, but details beyond Chambers’ professional activities were limited. I was in the middle of a long article about the start of Chambers Funds LLC, Mr. Chambers’ hedge fund company, when I was called to board the flight, Las Vegas direct to New York City.
    When I boarded, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I’d been booked in a first-class seat. Even though I grew up in a wealthy family, we didn’t travel much, and on the rare occasions we did, my sister and I rode in coach while my parents enjoyed complimentary bourbons and hot towel service.
    After I’d buckled myself in and accepted a glass of white wine, I sorted through the stack of magazines nestled in the seatback in front of me— Elle , Glamour , Vogue, and Forbes . Normally, I’d toss anything that wasn’t fashion to the side—business and financial news weren’t exactly what I considered enjoyable reading—but a small headline caught my eye— Calvin Chambers: Inside the Mind of an Enigmatic Billionaire. What were the odds? Eagerly, I flipped through the magazine, as if the article would answer all my questions, the leading one being, why me?
    On page 42, the headline sprawled across two pages with half the left page filled with a vivid picture, caption: Calvin Chambers, CEO of Chambers Funds, attends Giulio Cesare’s opening at the Metropolitan Opera, New York City . Dressed in a classic tuxedo, Mr. Chambers stared into the camera lens, eyes dark, lips curved in the faintest shadow of a smile. Heart beating, I stared back at him, studying him intently. He was much younger than I’d expected, even though I had already read that he was one of the world’s youngest billionaires. In my head, I’d pictured an older man, maybe late thirties or early forties, but certainly not early thirties, as this article stated he was.
    Although young, his face held no trace of boyishness, and I wondered what he’d looked like as a child. Had he ever been six, playing in a sandbox with a shovel and truck? With a strong jaw and high brow, he looked particularly masculine. A slight crook in his nose made his face interesting, not traditionally handsome, but alluring, nonetheless. Not my type, I decided, but I could see why the article described him as a favorite among Manhattan models and how he had earned the number 3 spot on the Sexy Thirty under Thirty list.
    His lifestyle was deemed a whirlwind of artistic pursuits, the article citing his love of the opera, art, and chess. “An avid collector of historical relics, Mr. Chambers recently purchased an original David Rossan for twenty-two million dollars from the Louvre, adding to his extensive collection of Sado-Christian paintings.” Sado-Christian? Even after two semesters of art history, I’d never heard of that genre of work. How bizarre .
    “Despite his busy schedule, Mr. Chambers manages to remain just out of view from the public eye. Often surrounded by security, he distances himself from society at large, preferring privacy to celebrity. Business acquaintances praise him as committed and focused, while those inside his social circle opt for brooding and pensive as descriptors,” the article continued.
    I studied his face again, looking into his eyes—dark like midnight blue or charcoal black. Something about his demeanor seemed melancholy, reminiscent of a sad song or a lonely night, but I couldn’t place it or begin to understand from where it came.
    That picture haunted my thoughts as the skyscrapers whizzed by through the Mercedes’ tinted window. It was my first time in New York, but I couldn’t concentrate on the city sights, only the anticipation in my stomach and the possibility of my first encounter with Calvin Chambers. By the time the car screeched to a stop in front of a skyscraper, I had all but sweated through my outfit.
    In solid block letters, Chambers Fund Management, LLC was illuminated on the top of the building, as if to shout our arrival.