Vicious Seduction

11

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get over here quicker. Did she want to order anything?” The young server looked worriedly over her shoulder toward the exit. “Not at all. She just popped in for a word.” “Okay. Is there anything else I can get you?” “Actually, I think dessert is in order. Let’s do an Oreo shake.” “Whipped cream on top?” “Oh yeah. I’m fancy like that.” The girl grinned wide at my cheesy reference to the Walker Hayes song lyrics. “Coming right up.” While I waited, I sat back and considered what I planned to do about Oran. I didn’t want to screw things up with Lawrence on the off chance that he did have information, and I just hadn’t unearthed it yet. I knew his mansion had been involved at the very least. That was plenty of justification to keep him as my number one suspect. He had to know something. But if he wasn’t the only one with information, wouldn’t it make sense to broaden my search? Sliding my hand into my purse, I pulled out the invitation still floating inside. The Bastion Club. I entered the name into Google and scrolled through the resulting pictures and references. It was a social club, not totally unlike Olympus, but clearly not as secretive. It had a web page and an address listed. There were even pictures from inside—formal events and gaming tables. The club appeared legitimate enough to be safe for a night. There would be plenty of people present. What did I have to lose? I had to start making progress soon, or I’d never learn the truth. Oran wanted me to give him a chance? I would, but not in the way he hoped. The difference between Bastion and Olympus was like the difference between Prince William and Prince Harry. Both swam in money and power, but one was imprisoned by it, and the other saw it as a means for freedom. Where Olympus was posh and stuffy, Bastion was warm and inviting. The gaming tables boasted the same extravagant antes. The decor was equally lavish, but the atmosphere in Bastion was ten times livelier. It made me uneasy to think about why anyone would seek out Olympus when they already had access to Bastion. His motives didn’t bode well, knowing what I did about Olympus. The smiling faces and laughter helped ease my nerves, that and the fact that I hadn’t overdressed, which I’d been worried about. Despite what I’d told Cosmo, I did wear the halter dress—one of the perks of being the seamstress was using my own measurements for samples. I’d also stopped by a locally owned hat shop that sold handmade Derby hats and masquerade masks. I found an absolutely stunning mask with one side black and the other side an ornate butterfly’s wing in shades of iridescent blue. It represented how I felt—striking and bold yet still so fragile. I had no idea what to expect when I arrived, but I wouldn’t let my insecurities show. I kept my shoulders back and chin high when I showed my invitation to the woman at the reception desk. From there, she directed me upstairs to the main club. The large room was already bustling with people, which was nice. No one noticed my arrival. The mask also helped, but I still went immediately to the bar. New social situations always seemed more manageable with a drink in hand. I didn’t think alcohol was wise tonight, considering I was alone in an unknown environment, but the contents of the drink were irrelevant. The glass itself was the important part. It served as an icebreaker and a shield—a sort of social talisman to aid in mingling. “Soda water with a lime, please. And a straw.” The straw was important —that made it look like an alcoholic drink. The bartender smiled and quickly threw together my drink. As he slid it across the bar, two hands braced on either side of me, a warm body closing in at my back. “You came.” Oran. Had he seen me come in? I knew he would recognize me, but I hadn’t expected him to zero in on me quite so quickly. “How did you know I was here?” I didn’t turn around. Instead, I sipped from my drink and pretended I didn’t feel a magnetic pull urging me to lean back and mold my body into his. “I’ve done nothing but watch for you since we opened the doors.” He was smooth. I’d give him that. I finally peered over my shoulder and turned, prompting him to give me a few inches of space. Not enough space, yet somehow too much. “We?” A hint of breathlessness feathered the word. Oran was handsome on a bad day—wearing a mask accentuated his angular jaw and the liquid mercury of his heated stare. He looked utterly mesmerizing. “My family owns the club.” He motioned to the busy room. “Shall I show you around?” “Yes, thank you.” They owned the place. That was unexpected, though it shouldn’t have been if they were mafia. I wasn’t sure of the implications, so I stored the information away for future consideration. His eyes lifted to the bartender behind me. “Mark, you need anything before I go?” “Nah, boss. We’re covered here.” Oran nodded and grabbed several napkins, which he then wrapped around the side of my glass to keep my fingers from getting cold. He did it matter-of-factly as if we’d been together for years. As if it was so customary, it didn’t even register that he’d done anything. But I watched every careful movement of his hands as though he’d performed a fascinating magic trick. In my experience, men like him didn’t do things like that. I didn’t know what to think or how to react. Oblivious to my discomposure, he gestured for us to start our tour. Leaning a bit closer, he spoke softly. “Forgive me for not saying so earlier, but you look absolutely stunning tonight.” “Thank you.” Was that warmth in my cheeks? Dear God, was I blushing? I couldn’t fathom what had gotten into me. Needing to ground myself, I redirected our conversation. “How did your meeting with Lawrence go?” This seemed like a perfect opportunity to explore their connection and focus on my goal. Oran didn’t answer immediately. I snuck a glance at him, surprised to see his jaw tightly clenched and a storm darkening his eyes. “It went well enough.” “I wouldn’t have guessed that by looking at you right now. You look ready to strangle someone.” He peered at me out of the corner of his eye. “Come with me where we can talk more privately.” He didn’t wait for a reply. Taking my hand in his, he led me to a small hallway with two closed doors opposite one another. When he took out a set of keys to unlock one of the rooms, unease sent a spike of adrenaline through my veins.