Chapter 10
SABLE
I half expected an abandoned warehouse. Maybe a seedy basement somewhere.
It wasn't, of course. That would be an insult to their status as important, elite assholes. Holding a prestigious event like this, in anything less than luxury, would be an admission they were doing something wrong.
No, this was done out in the open on a pleasant Thursday evening, a handful of weeks from Christmas. An early present to themselves.
Small and tucked away near the river, the Halloran hotel was exclusive, expensive. A place which didn't need to toot its own proverbial horn to be noticed. It succeeded on its reputation alone.
I knew of the place, but I'd never been here personally.
"Are they going to let us in?" I asked.
Forrest looked delicious in a dark suit and dark tie, expensive leather shoes and silver cufflinks.
He looked like he belonged here. He could walk through the door and no one would think twice.
They'd welcome him in with hors d'oeuvres, expensive wine and even more expensive women, catering to his every need so he'd stay and spend his money.
He took my hand and helped me out of the car.
"Of course they will. They won't question either of us. Remember the expression, 'fake it till you make it?'" When I nodded, he added, "Neither of us need to fake it "
I hated the fact that was true, but I couldn't argue. I was born into money and privilege. Whether I liked it or not, this world was my birthright.
Mine to burn down.
"We can do this," I said more to myself than to him.
A hint of a smile on the corners of his mouth was his approval, his agreement. Yes, we could, and we'd look good doing it.
If I didn't pee my panties first.
We stepped across the sidewalk and up the front steps.
A few people lingered outside. They glanced at us, most of their gazes on me, before we stepped inside.
"This place is making me nervous," I whispered near his ear.
I might have to try harder to fake it than either of us knew.
Being raised in this lifestyle and embracing it were different things.
I'd never wanted any of it. Never felt at home amongst the so-called elite.
It wasn't just about the obscene wealth.
Plenty of rich people were good people. They gave back to the world any way they could.
No, this was about those who didn't. People who let power go to their heads. Those were the people I despised. The ones I wanted to burn down.
Forrest chuckled and put an arm around me. "I've got you, remember? Later, we can carve out their eyeballs."
"That's something to look forward to," I said with a touch of sarcasm. Was that something he did often? I got the impression it was something he'd done before, possibly more than once. There was more to this man than he appeared at first glance. So much more.
"Of course it is." He smiled and led me into the foyer, over hand-painted patterned tile. The timber paneling on the walls was at least a hundred years old, scarred here and there, but still shining.
We stepped under an antique chandelier dripping with crystals. Expensive but well cared for. A speck of dust wouldn't dare to land on it. If it did, it would be swept away quickly.
The whole place whispered class. Screaming it would be frowned upon.
We made our way toward the back of the hotel, to the small, intimate restaurant and elegant bar. A handful of people dined, or stood at the bar drinking and chatting. They exchanged plastic peals of laughter like the soundtrack of a pre-recorded sitcom.
Forrest nodded toward a man I recognized as a recently retired athlete. If only his sponsors knew what he got up to after hours.
He nodded back and returned to his conversation without giving me half a glance.
"Down here." Forrest led me deeper into the hotel, to the kind of room men gathered in to smoke cigars, drink brandy and make plans to dominate the world.
"If the walls could talk," I said under my breath.
"The walls would tell horror stories." Forrest's expression didn't change, but his tone was quietly disapproving. Irritated at the existence of spaces like this and the men who occupied them.
Women too. Of the few people who gathered here, a couple were women I knew on sight. Both as rich and powerful as any of the men.
Women who, I thought, should know better than to take part in something like this.
Leif and Woody stood to either side of the room. Woody observing. Leif holding a conversation with a couple of other men.
Both of them laughed at something he said. He looked right at home here. His dark blue suit blended with the rest; perfectly fitted and expensive. He even shared the same expression with the men he was talking to. Superior, like somehow they were better than the average person.
If I didn't know what he was really like, I'd hate him on sight. Instead, I reserved that for the people whose company he was in. Chances were, he wanted to stab them in the eyeball. Right now, he was showing great restraint.
Woody too.
He sipped on a glass of something clear, bored, like he had so much money, so much time, and yet he couldn't entertain himself anymore. Couldn't be entertained. Too jaded, too hard to impress.
Okay, some of that was accurate. He was definitely difficult to impress.
Once it might have annoyed me, but now? It was part of his charm. He wouldn't be as easily coerced as some of the people in this room.
"Judge Cross." An older man greeted Forrest with an insincere smile. Forced. Greasy.
Forrest responded with one of his own. "Good evening, Senator. This should be an…interesting event," he said meaningfully.
"Aren't they always?" the senator said with a laugh. "I never come away from these things disappointed."
"Of course not," Forrest said, offering his hand for a shake. "That's why they hold them. They know how to cater to people like us."
"Indeed they do," the senator agreed. He shook Forrest's hand and let his eyes rake up and down my body.
"Who is this lovely creature?" He directed the entire question to Forrest, as if I was an accessory.
"Let me introduce you to Sable Kohl," Forrest said, indifferent, as though I was the amusement of the hour. Maybe the night. "Sable, I'm sure you recognize the senator."
"I do," I said meekly. "It's nice to meet you, sir."
Fucking asshole that came to things like this. He was exactly the kind of person I loathed an opportunist who didn't care about anyone but himself. People like him made me sick.
I carefully kept all of that off my face. Blinking at him slowly like I was completely harmless. A body without much going on inside my head.
"Sable Kohl," the senator, repeated my name, letting it linger on his mouth as if he was entitled to it. "The widow of Wolfgang Taylor-Francis?"
"That's right," I said with a tight smile.
"What happened to him was a tragedy." The senator seemed genuinely regretful. As if the world was missing out on a gem of a person, not a monster.
I sighed, my grief feigned. Could I squeeze a fake tear out of one of my eyes?
"It was terrible. The poor man was asleep one minute and the next…" I sniffed. "He was gone."
The senator seemed to buy every word I was saying. "I'm sure you must be absolutely devastated. If you ever need anyone to make you feel better—"
He smiled when Forrest cleared his throat. "Just making a pretty girl an offer." He patted Forrest on the arm and strode away.
Pretty girl, I thought, seething. Could he have been more condescending and gross? Probably. Chances were he was more disgusting before he had breakfast every morning. People like him always were.
"Don't let him get to you," Forrest said softly. "He specializes in stirring up trouble. Quietly. He's a cockroach that lives under the furniture."
"Cockroach is right," I said darkly. "He seemed comfortable with you."
"I move in some…difficult circles," Forrest said carefully.
"I have to maintain a certain outward appearance, otherwise they'll become suspicious.
The minute they become suspicious, their guard is up.
We need them with their guard down. Believe me, I don't like it any more than you do. " He squeezed my hip.
"I suppose you don't," I said with a sigh. "I understand, though. I spent a couple of years pretending to be something I wasn't. It gets exhausting after a while." A short while.
"It does." He gestured a server over and took a couple of champagne flutes from his tray before handing one to me. "We might as well enjoy ourselves."
I wasn't sure I could, but I clinked my glass against his and took a sip. The champagne was divine, but more than a couple of sips would go straight to my head.
"Do you think Savannah is here somewhere?"
"It's possible," Forrest said. "Or she may be at the actual location. Leif's contact said they'd inform us when and where. This is a prelude to the actual event."
I wrinkled my nose, hating to hear him use a benign word like event.
This was an auction, a means of trafficking people.
We weren't here for a party. Not to have fun.
Not to drink too much and laugh over bawdy jokes told by men who weren't funny.
We weren't here to listen to other people laugh at their jokes because they didn't want to offend the speaker.
I'd heard those kind of jokes too many times before. Women were usually the butt of them. The laughter uncomfortable and often forced. Those who didn't laugh? Their silence spoke volumes.
Of course they wouldn't speak up. No, in these circles you played along or you were cut free. There was no in between.
"Is this where we split up and mingle?" I asked reluctantly. If I could, I'd stay right next to him all night, within touch, within hearing. That wasn't the plan though.
"Yes, we should," he agreed with an equal amount of reluctance. "There's a couple of people I should speak to. They'll be expecting me."
I smirked at him. "Wouldn't want to disappoint your fan club."
He cupped my cheek and leaned in. "They aren't fans of me, and I am not a fan of theirs. Someday soon, I'm going to see them rot in hell, but for now I have to play nice." He kissed my cheek.
I wrapped my fingers around his bicep and squeezed, appreciating the muscle hidden under the expensive fabric of his suit.
"Go and do your schmoozing," I said. "I'm going to go to the ladies’ room first."
I finished my champagne and placed it on a tray as a server walked past.
The restrooms were easy to find. Nestled in the corner, antique doors and calligraphy signs marking which was for men and which was for women.
Honestly, I was slightly surprised they bothered having one for women, but chances were there wouldn't be anyone else in here.
The only women were on the other side of the room, doing some schmoozing of their own.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Everything in here looked both new and antique. Either reproductions or carefully restored.
Each of the three sinks was wide, topped with an ornate faucet. The stalls were each the same dark timber as the walls. Even the toilets looked fancy. Of course they did, they wouldn't spare any expense even in the restrooms.
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, checking my hair and makeup before I headed into the cubicle.
While I was finishing up in there, the door opened. I almost missed it at first, it was so quiet. No creaking, just a swish of timber on the floor.
Footsteps entered.
Heavy ones, not the clicking of heels on the floor.
Which of my guys had followed me in here? Woody or Leif? I suspected it wasn't Forrest. Not if he had people he had to speak to.
I couldn't peer under the door to tell. There wasn't a gap at the top or the bottom, not even in the side where the lock engaged. I appreciated whoever built them for their privacy, but nerves skittered across my spine.
You're being silly, I told myself. I'd step out of the cubicle and see Woody or Leif leaning against one of the wash basins. Maybe reclining against the door, looking smug.
They knew not to mess up my dress, but there was plenty I could do with my hands.
Suppressing a smile of anticipation, I pulled open the cubicle door and stepped out.