Page 89 of Jace
It’s another client, another job David has lost. If his “energy” detects any effort required, he melts like a snowflake.
I sip my glass of wine to shut up now.
I hate him so much I can’t hide it anymore. I’m in the final act of this performance, ready to end this shit show.
Looking away, I cast my stare over the shimmering pool, over the people gathered under the stars.
David’s sister is having fun at the pool bar. She and her groom have hired a famous mixologist to help with their cocktail competition.
I recognize the expert bartender from Elysium, the sex club. Jace’smom’ssex club, and that makes me hide a smirk behind my glass.
If David only knew what I know about Jace, he’d never threaten me again. The promise of being the queen to an ex-Bratva king, who’s in a band of vigilante brothers, doesn’t frighten me. It thrills me.
I focus on my future and the stunning bartender. She’s got a vintage blonde bombshell look. Messy, teased bun. Long curtain bangs. Smoky eyeliner. Sloped nose over nude lips.
God, I’d love to do a session with her and her inked body. She’s showing it off in a retro white corset top over black cigarette pants.
Luna: that’s her name.
She and her identical twin, Lucy, are an attraction at Elysium. They spin bottles with flair. Lucy’s known for her focus on clients, while Luna’s famous for her smoking-gun cocktails.
“Excuse me.” I smile at David and his boys. “I need to take some pictures for Deborah.”
David can’t whine about that, though I’m sure he’ll try. Turning, I leave him with his mouth hanging open.
Grabbing my camera from my bag on a lounger, I work my way through the crowd around the marble pool bar.
“Okay, so the rule is you sip and vote,” David’s sister directs her guests. “Iinvented a cocktail, andHarrisoninvented one. And whoever wins will have our cocktail featured at our reception.” Deborah raises her glass. “All thanks to the talented guidance of Luna Labella, our guest mixologist tonight. Let’s give her a hand.”
The crowd politely claps. A few buzzing men whistle.
In a whirl, I try to capture with my lens, Luna spinning a tumbler before mixing a pink concoction and filling a tray of martini glasses. One batch after another. Then she tosses up a clean tumbler, catching it before grabbing two bottles with nozzles like they’re guns, creating a blue mix for a different tray of glasses.
Once all are full, the guests gather around, including David, who’s hovering way too close to me.
He whines in my ear. “Were you trying to make me look like an asshole in front of my boys?”
“No. You can do that all on your own.”
“Sugar pie, what happened to us?” He touches my arm softly. “Why do you hate me so much?”
“You’re kidding me, right?” I elbow him to give me and my camera some space.
I take shots of the guests, toasting their drinks. A couple of the bride and groom. Then, I focus on Luna, hustling quickly behind the bar, pouring more rounds.
A raucous debate begins over whose cocktail is the best. More sloshing glasses are passed. More jokes are made about cocktails minus the tails or minus the cocks.
I’m not paying attention to who shoves a martini glass into my hand. But it’s hot outside, and I’m thirsty in this crowd. I’m sweating as I guzzle the fizzy grapefruit cocktail like it’s water.
And don’t remember the rest of the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
JACE
“What the fuckdo you think you’re doing?” Grant grabs my tuxedo’s lapels. “We aren’t Vince and Owen inWedding Crashers. It’s not gonna be funny when you go in there looking like a madman, hunting for Vivian.”
“Fuck off.” I shuck his hands off me. “Like you wouldn’t rip the world apart for Delphine. For any queen, and this shit is sideways. Something’s wrong.”
