Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Following his line of sight, I spot Vera and Trey from before, chatting with a tall man in a crisp white suit. My stomach flips. “Looks like old acquaintances are here,” I say wryly.
We share a look, uncertain whether we should engage them now or wait. But just as I’m about to suggest we mingle, Vera’s gaze flicks our way. She smiles, waves discreetly, then nudges Trey’s arm. They excuse themselves from their conversation, making a beeline for us.
I brace myself for another sultry greeting, but to my surprise, Vera merely offers a friendly grin. “You two made it! And invited this time, no less.”
Trey nods in agreement, a half-smile on his lips. “So you really are on the VIP list. You must’ve impressed somebody.”
Lincoln’s hand presses a bit more firmly against my hip. “Something like that.” He keeps his voice casual. “We heard Morris might be around tonight.”
Vera’s expression turns knowing. “He is,” she confirms. “Somewhere. You might see him once he’s done with his current business… or you might not. He’s unpredictable.”
Trey arches a brow. “We can let him know you’re here, if you’d like.”
That suggests an in, but a cautious part of me wonders if it’s wise to appear too eager. One wrong move could scare Morris off. Before I can respond, Vera leans in, lowering her voice. “He’s got eyes everywhere, though. So maybe wait and see if he approaches you.”
Lincoln gives a short nod, acknowledging the advice. “We appreciate the heads-up.”
Vera and Trey exchange glances, then Vera shrugs elegantly. “Well, no sense fretting over it. In the meantime, you two look stunning.” She eyes my black dress, the neckline a bit more daring than I’m used to, and a flicker of something playful crosses her face. “Come find us if you want to dance—or anything else.”
Trey winks. “We’re over there, mingling with the usual suspects.”
They drift off, leaving the faintest swirl of perfume behind. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “They’re certainly… friendly.”
Lincoln’s lips twitch. “They mean well, I think. But keep your guard up.”
We lapse into a brief silence, the hum of hushed conversations and the clink of glasses filling the space. My gaze roams the lavish room again, noting the curved arches, the draping curtains, the subtle interplay of dim light. I catch glimpses of couples drifting behind partitioned screens and wonder what sort of indulgences this VIP party truly allows.
Lincoln’s hand slides up my spine, a subtle gesture that sends a ripple of comfort through me. He leans in, voice barely above a whisper. “How are you doing?”
I manage a small smile, letting my free hand rest on his thigh for the sake of appearance—and maybe for my own reassurance. “I’m okay. Nervous, but okay. You?”
He exhales slowly. “Same. Feels like we’re walking a tightrope.”
I bite my lip. “We are.” But I force a steady exhale. “At least we’re not alone.”
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, all the glitz and glamour around us fades. The memory of the other night’s confessions, the heated passion we shared before Dean barged in, lingers between us. My heart beats uncomfortably fast under his gaze, and I have to remind myself to breathe. I might be half in love with him, or maybe it’s just the adrenaline talking, but either way, there’s no denying the pull I feel when he’s near.
Before we can say more, a low chime rings out. A server in a burgundy vest steps forward, clearing his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for gracing us with your presence this evening,” he announces in a cultured tone. “Devereaux invites you to enjoy all the amenities. Please, indulge yourselves—and if you’re lucky, you may have the honor of speaking with our esteemed host, or with the elusive Morris Rolfe and Lazarus Delgado.”
At the mention of the names, a ripple of murmurs spreads through the room. My stomach knots and my eyes widen at the mention of Lazarus Delgado.
“Lazarus?” I whisper to Lincoln. “The Delgado Mafia boss?”
Lincoln’s eyes widen. “Do you know him?”
I nod, slowly, chills skating over my skin. “Yes, doesn’t everyone?”
Could Lazarus be the one threatening me? It makes sense.
Lincoln brushes his hand against mine. “Stay close. We don’t split up unless absolutely necessary,” he says under his breath.
I nod, adrenaline sparking in my veins. “Agreed.”
With that, we rise from our seats, merging into the flow of couples moving deeper into the luxurious quarters—toward private rooms, small parlors, and alcoves lit by dim sconces. Every surface glistens with opulence, every face masked in polite intrigue. We’re shepherded into a chamber beyond a set of gilded doors, where a fountain bubbles in the center, surrounded by couches arranged for discreet conversation.
I spot Vera and Trey again, perched on one of the couches with a pair of older socialites. Beyond them, a cluster of people stands around a tall man with dark hair, speaking in hushed, animated tones. Is that Morris? My pulse leaps, and I nudge Lincoln, trying to be subtle.