Page 84 of Villains Never Die

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, now you’re ready to admit it?”

“I still would have usurped your ass if your cock wasn’t so magnificent. Now I’ve had a change of heart, I guess.”

My eyes flicked between his, looking for a blink or a gleam or anything that might give away that he remembered what I said last night, or if he felt the same.

“Anyway, what about Wesley?”

“What about him?”

He led me back to the bedroom and sprawled back out on the bed with his hands folded behind his head. “He threatened you. He hates Emmett. He wanted Blackwell’s job. Those are a lot of good reasons to murder everyone.”

“And Pope and the file clerk?”

“Covering up something? They knew too much, maybe.”

“He’ll be at the full moon gala tomorrow night.” I shoved his legs until he made room for me to sit on the edge of the bed. “I invited him. We can watch what he does then.”

“We?”

I stroked my fingers up his leg. “May I extend an invitation to you this time so you don’t have to crash?”

“Invitation accepted.”

My hand slid lazily toward his knee and then stopped. “About what I said last night…”

He jackknifed off the bed and grabbed my hand, his thumb circling the veins on the top of it, but his eyes didn’t leave mine.

“We’ll talk about it later. Let’s just deal with Wesley and the warehouse, and then we’ll figure us out, okay?”

He dropped my hand, and my stomach went with it. That wasn’t an answer, and it certainly wasn’t a return of feelings, but perhaps he was right. I finished dressing and looked him over, relaxed and easy and giving away absolutely nothing that would soothe the nervous flutter in my chest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night.” I leaned down to kiss him, but I wouldn’t have invited him at all if I’d known the shit show the gala would become.

Chapter Thirty

With a month’s notice, the party planner made the club even more opulent for this event. Fresh floral arrangements displayed orchids on every table. A glittering onyx walkway, the edges dotted with crystals, showed guests the path between the entrance and the bar. And this month, a jazz band played softly as the night began.

The guests arrived on time, lined up around the building as the bouncer checked their invitations one by one. Rook had arrived an hour early, and while I sat at my place at the bar, Rook took up Gray’s role—watching, calculating, reporting back to me.

Rook: He’s here

He texted me when Wesley Lake arrived, but I had already spotted the smug blonde making idle small talk and holding up the line. No one complained, and I wondered how many supporters he had in this room.

I see him.

Rook: I’ll distract the rest of the party. Get him alone.

How do you intend to do that?

Rook: With my good looks and charm, obviously.

Our eyes met across the room and I swear I could see his mischievous little smirk from all the way over here. The charcoal suit he wore this evening fit him immaculately and made me wonder what it would look like on the floor of my penthouse, though he’d replaced the awful camo bowtie with a tie that might have been sewn from the leftovers of a Hawaiian shirt. He’d delighted in the look on my face when it assaulted my eyes.

Behave yourself.

Rook: Never.

A woman in a sequined floor-length gown sashayed in my direction. Rook made a beeline for her, and I didn’t know what he said to her, but moments later, she fawned over him as he motioned over a server so they could both get a glass of champagne. As she stroked her hand down his forearm, I contemplated how much I could sell her rings for if I chopped the fingers off, but the blood wouldn’t be worth the trouble. I turned to the bar and smiled at Helen, who was arranging more trays of champagne for the servers.