30. Wyatt
THIRTY
WYATT
The string section of the orchestra played a series of notes that somehow managed to make their cellos and violins sound like rusty door hinges. It wasn’t until the rest of the orchestra joined them that I was able to place the song, “Thriller.”
“Cliché.” Valentina clicked her tongue and then jutted her chin at Savannah. “What do you want to bet that girl organized a flash mob to do the dance scene?”
“Bet…” My voice trailed off. “Mob.”
“Are you even listening to me?” My skin stung as Valentina pinched the back of my arm. I rubbed my suit jacket and turned to face her. The woman in silver had disappeared, but I had a hunch that I knew her. Intimately.
“You were saying that you want to go dance or something?”
Valentina rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “What is wrong with you? Get it together, Westwood. We need to find out who is involved with the Carders. We’re not going to get any intel if you’re making googly eyes at every woman in the place.”
I definitely wasn’t making googly eyes at anyone, but my heart was beating a little harder than it should’ve been. The scent in the room had changed when the silver woman had walked in. It couldn’t be Harper, and more importantly, it shouldn’t be Harper. But the pit in my guts told me otherwise. How the hell had she managed to get past the guys I’d posted at her place, and get into the gala without a ticket?
Chuckling, I looked to the ceiling in a weird mixture of amusement and anguish. The woman was going to be the death of me, but at least she was consistent – consistently a pain in the ass.
The room teemed with energy, the bassline of the song sending ripples through the water glasses on the tables. I wove around the masked guests, hoping that the horrendous Zorro-style sash across my eyes disguised me enough to get past making any small talk.
The last place I’d spotted the woman in the silver dress was near the back of the room, but by the time I got there, she was gone. I sniffed the air. Vanilla and sandalwood. It was definitely her. “Goddammit, Harper,” I muttered. “What the hell are you doing here?” I whispered to myself, my voice lost in the noisy crowd. It was a moot question. I knew exactly why she was here. My heart hardened. It didn’t have anything to do with me. Harper was there to get answers about her dad. If I couldn’t find the man and fulfill my promise to Harper, she was going to go out there and do it for herself.
She might have lived this long, but if she set out on that mission, she would either lose her memory again, or worse, her life.
The crowd cheered and a group of people flooded the dance floor. They moved like professional dancers, and as the orchestra reached the chorus, the group broke into a choreographed dance. Over top of the limping and twirling flash mob, Valentina’s gaze locked with mine. Her lips stretched into a grin and she mouthed, “I told you so,” then sipped her champagne while surveying the dancers with her perfected look of disdain. The woman was horrible, but she was also brilliant, a terrifying combination.
To get to the private banquet rooms, I was going to have to weave through the dance floor zombies. I ducked and dodged to get past their flailing arms. By the time I reached the other side, there was still no sign of the woman in silver. I reached into the inside pocket of my suit jacket and popped a quarter-sized amount of dried moss between my lip and bottom teeth, like a cowboy with tobacco. I might not be able to see her, but I could smell her.
It only took a second. The hues of crimson and midnight black that surrounded me intensified. Every slide of the cellists’ fingers down the strings of their instruments was amplified, and the chemical smell from the cologne and perfumes of the guests stung my nostrils.
Squeezing the bridge of my nose, I closed my eyes and focused, and let my instinct lead me down the corridor at the back of the room. Gold numbers glinted on the doors, and I passed by numbers one through nine, pausing at each to allow my senses to do their thing.
I strode to the last door, number ten, but before I could reach for the handle, a tug on the tail of my suit jacket stopped me in my tracks. “Leave me alone,” I growled and turned, expecting to see Valentina.
“Excuse me?” The woman’s voice sounded aghast, but her body was speaking a different language. She angled her tits towards me, her French-manicured fingers tracing the space below her collarbones. There was a smile on her face. She wasn’t offended, she was entertained.
“Sorry,” I grumbled. “I thought you were someone else.”
The woman’s voice was a purr. “I’m glad I’m not someone else. Do I need to leave you alone?”
My eyes glanced to the room and then back to the woman. “Do I know you?” There was a familiarity to her, but with the mask, the gown, and the dimly lit hallway, I couldn’t figure out who was standing in front of me. And I didn’t want to inadvertently lead anyone to Harper, especially with so many enemies under one roof.
She took a step closer, well into my personal space. It was the move of a confident woman. Her hair was jet black and parted in the middle. She laughed and tossed it over her shoulder, where it settled well past her ass. Her dress was made up of what appeared to be gold armor, and it hung over her body like scales. It must have weighed at least as much as the woman – likely more, she had a tiny frame. “Oh, Wyatt.” She rested her hand on my chest. “I can’t believe you don’t recognize me. You’re not fooling anyone with that mask.”
I narrowed my eyes, but still couldn’t place her. Instead of taking off her mask, she took off her hair. It was a wig, and beneath it, blond hair coiled into a bun. “Mrs. Carder. You’ll have to excuse me. I didn’t recognize you with the Cher hair.”
She laughed. “I was going for Cleopatra.”
“I see it now.” I put on a fake smile. “That’s quite the dress.” To be safe, I took a step back from the woman. Not only was she the very person we were investigating, but she was also a married woman. And the woman I loved was in the room behind me. The last thing I needed was another Valentina-type situation.
“It’s a little hard to dance in.” She tapped at one of the gold numbers with her diamond ring, then tilted her head. “What are you doing back here?”
“Just getting away from the crowd. I’m not really into group dance numbers, and I didn’t want to get dragged into that mess.”
“I don’t blame you. How pedestrian. I can’t believe the event coordinators didn’t clear that with me.” She bent to pick something up from the ground. “Speaking of which, I see you didn’t get one of the grab bags.” She held out a matte black bag with gold-plated handles.
“I’m not really one for swag.” All I wanted to do was get the horny socialite out of the hallway so I could check on Harper, but she wasn’t picking up on my cues. I was walking a balance beam. I couldn’t be a total dick, but I also couldn’t be too friendly either. Mrs. Carder was the kind of woman who was used to getting her way, and the pheromones coming off her body told me that she wanted me .
Mrs. Carder took my hand in hers. “Take it. I really think there a few things in there you will enjoy.” She pulled her hand from mine and replaced it with the grab bag.
“Thank you. I’m sure if you chose the favors, they will be classy and provocative.”
Redness flooded her cheeks. She slipped the black wig back over her yellow hair, but didn’t move. “Look in it.” She nodded her head to the bag.
Fuck. She wasn’t going to let up on the damn bag. I cleared my throat and opened it. Everything was wrapped in glossy black paper and tied with red ribbon. She reached into the bag and pulled out a box the size of a big muffin. It wasn’t wrapped, and she pulled the lid off, exposing a black bottle inside. “It’s the gala’s signature scent. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it when you got here.” It had seemed strange that everyone smelled so similar.
“Here, take a—”
I grabbed the bottle from her hand before she could push on the spritzer. The last thing I wanted was to smell like I was on my way to a trashy night club. “Thank you, Mrs. Carder. I’m a little sensitive to fragrance.”
She stood on her toes and leaned in to smell me. She crinkled her nose and gave me a flirtatious grin. “You might want to rethink that.”
The armor of her dress clinked as she turned on her heels and sashayed back into the ballroom. I dropped the bottle into the bag, but lifted my arm to give my pit a good sniff. I didn’t particularly care if I was rank, but I needed to play the billionaire businessman role, and smelling like the forest floor after a heavy rainfall wouldn’t fit the profile.
I smelled fine. Shaking my head, I set the bag underneath a console table. Michelle Carder couldn’t be trusted and there was no way in hell I was spraying a substance on my body that could’ve been made in the Genocorp lab.
The realization hit me like a hundred-year fir tree falling in the forest. Was the perfume in everyone’s bag?
I had no time to follow up on that thought. Ensuring that Cleopatra wasn’t lurking in the hallway, I stepped close to door ten and inhaled, confirming what I already knew to be true. Harper was on the other side.
Taking a breath, I rested my hand on the handle for a moment, concentrating all of my energy on my hearing. There were voices behind the door, but they were so hushed I couldn’t make out any words. A waft of another scent struck me, something closer to my own than Harper’s.
She was in there with one of us.