Chapter 36
We park a mile down from Richard St. Claire’s mansion. This place gives even Elijah’s a run for its money. It's a tall structure with humongous glass windows, curtains pulled back so people passing by can snoop in and dream of entering a home like this. The only difference between Elijah and Richard is that all of Richard's money is blood money. Everything he’s done to obtain it has been illegal and someone innocent most definitely died for him to get it.
I look over to Cea, watching as she straps her heels on, then proceeds to strap on switchblades in wickedly delicious spots on her body. Grabbing the duffle bag from the bag, I start arming myself with several weapons as well. I have two pistols strapped into the holsters hanging on the side of my chest. Knives placed in my boots and a strap on my bicep under the white dress shirt I have on. Last, but not least I place a grenade in my inside jacket pocket.
“Hey, do you have anywhere you could hold a couple of these?”
I ask, eyeing the grenade before I look at Cea, then her breasts.
“Absolutely fucking not,”
she screeches.
I give her a shrug. “It was worth a try.”
“Are you ready?”
I ask, placing the black mask on my face.
Cea takes her red and gold one, placing it over hers.
“Can you tie the back for me?”
Reaching over, I take the ribbon into my hands and knotting it in the back, so it stays in place. She turns to look at me, her red lips shining, her dark eyes pulling me in.
“You’re so beautiful,”
I whisper, leaning in to give her a kiss.
“Not right now lover boy. Let’s get out of here alive and successful then you can kiss me,”
she says, placing her pointer finger over my lips.
I fake pout. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
We stroll to the entrance. I slip the two tickets from my coat pocket, trying to straighten them out from the wrinkles they gathered sitting against the grenade.
“Really,”
Cea hisses.
“Look, at least I have them.”
She shakes her head, looping her arm through mine.
“Invites,”
one of the guards grumbles, not even looking up from his clipboard.
I hand him the ticket, watching as he takes them from my hands, handing them off to the security guard standing next to him. They’re wearing black tactical pants, guns holstered to their hips, a black long sleeve shirt under a bulletproof vest as their top.
Cea’s grip on me tightens, the nerves showing all over her body.
“Shh,”
I whisper, leaning in close. “Everything’s going to be okay. I got you.”
She smiles up at me, giving me a gentle nod as the guards give us entry and we walk into the home.
I’m awestruck by the decorations they have set up.
Black curtains hang throughout the entrance, golden fairy lights streaming down them.
We continue, until we come upon the doorway into the ballroom, or at least that’s what I’m assuming it is.
More black curtains decorate the entrance, a giant crystal chandelier hanging in the middle, the star of the room.
An orchestra is sat at the back of the room, playing a slow cynical song.
Round tables circle the dance floor, draped in black linen.
Candles in the middle, flower arrangements made of red roses and Russian sage adorning them.
Hor d’oeuvres and a beverage bar sit to the left side of the room.
You could probably choose whatever your heart desires from the look of it.
Butlers walk around, dressed in their white and black suits, trays of champagne in their hands.
Some couples are already dancing, while others mingle around the room, probably talking about mundane problems that no one else would give a shit about.
“Wow, I hate to say this, but it sure is beautiful in here,”
Cea whispers.
“It’s okay to appreciate beauty even in the most ugly situations.”
A small smile spreads on her face as she slightly rests her head on my shoulder for a second. An older couple passes us by, the woman scrunching her nose at us, while the man gives a curt nod.
The orchestra begins playing HAUSER’s version of ”Kiss The Rain.”
A song I actually know, shockingly.
“We should get to work,”
Cea quietly says.
I grab her hands in mine, spinning her toward me.
“Dance with me first,”
I plead, making sure to put my dimples on display.
“Now? We don’t have ti—”
I grab her cheek in the palm of my hand, bringing my lips close to her.
“I will always make time for you, Mi Cielo,”
I promise.
If I didn’t know better, I would say her eyes begin to water, but Cea shakes them off, agreeing to follow me to the dancefloor.
We begin a waltz, a dance I learned when I was younger when my mother was still attempting to raise me to be a gentleman. I guess it came in handy after all. I spin Cea in circles, as we move around the room, flawlessly. The guests have stopped to watch, but I don’t care because the only thing that matters has my full attention on this dance floor.
Cea follows my lead, dancing as if she knows the moves by heart. Brown and blonde strands of her hair fly around her face as I spin her around the room. She lets out a joyful laugh as I bring her back in, close to my chest. I hold her close, as we slowly dance across the room, then spin her out one last time as the song comes to an end. Bringing my lips close to her ear, I whisper softly, “I love you, Mi Cielo.”
A blush creeps up her face and I dip her backward, her eyes locked on mine. When I bring her back up, she instantly crushes her lips against mine in a slow and heated kiss.
“I love you too.”
A tear leaks down her face and I quickly wipe it away with the pad of my thumb.
“Let’s get to work.”
A round of applause bursts throughout the room, drawing mine and Cea’s attention. We give a small bow of our heads, before quickly exiting the dance floor.
It’s then I see Richard St. Claire making an exit out of the main room while his guests are distracted. I gently elbow Cea, gaining her attention and she quickly notices what I’m looking at.
“Is that him?”
“Sure is.”
I nod, as a few guests come up and tell us how beautiful we danced together. We thank them as politely and swiftly as we can, then head toward the ballroom entrance.
I begin to head for the staircase when Cea yanks me back.
“What?” I hiss.
“We should split up. Let me go down toward the basement, in case they have more women kidnapped,”
she pleads.
“Absolutely not. Out of the question.”
“What if it was me Blaze? Wouldn’t you want someone to come for me?”
Her eyes have that fiery passion in them and I know there's no winning this argument.
“No one would have to come for you, because I would already be there.”
“But they don’t have you, I do. So please, let me at least look.”
I consider her argument for a moment. Finally taking a deep breath and giving in.
“Do you have all of your weapons?”
I ask, looking her over.
“Yes and I promise I’ll be careful.”
I nod, deciding to trust her with this against my better judgement.
“Fine. But meet me back here in twenty minutes.”
Cea places a quick kiss on my cheek, and we split ways.