Chapter 2 #2
I laughed and immediately pulled out a check I’d already prepared.
“Well, I hope to bring you a successful evening then. My sister is quite conniving and I see my costume is not very effective.” I touched my mask, offering a nod.
The black mask that my sister had provided hid nothing.
In fact, every single person in the room had already eyed me with equal parts respect and fear.
As they should. I handed her the check and glanced around the perimeter.
Tonight I’d come alone, not suspecting there’d be any kind of danger. The event was too public. At least in a soirée of this nature, I didn’t need to worry about facing unseemly customers or enemies from our past.
“Thank you for your generosity. I assure you that you’re quite recognizable with or without a costume. You are a legend in the city. Very much like your father.”
“My reputation precedes me and thank you for the compliment.” My father. A man who had ruled as if he owned everything and everyone in New Orleans. Right up until his death.
Her smile was subtle. “Very much so. I know all about the Prince family thanks to your sister, a truly generous spirit. Plus, your father and I went way back.” I could see the affection for my father in her eyes. “I am still devastated by your loss.”
I noticed true sadness in her eyes. It was entirely possible they’d been very close. My father had never been known for his fidelity.
“Ms. Novikov, thank you.”
“Please call me Irina. You’re very much like your father.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Whatever my sister mentioned about me is all wrong. But I must admit, she didn’t tell me how beautiful you are.” I brought her hand to my lips.
She offered a coy look. “It’s not often at my advanced age I’m flirted with by a handsome bachelor. You’ve made my evening.”
“My pleasure and very true.” Russians. I hated them.
But I had good reason, including how close they’d come to destroying our family.
We’d fought and won many a battle with the Bratva over the past few years, most bloody and violent.
All a reminder that no matter how legitimate our business became, our roots would always be in decades of unscrupulous criminal acts.
How fascinating that she’d chosen to share she’d been close with my father. It should mean nothing as she had no affiliation with the Barishnikoff Bratva that I knew of. My sister would never place herself in a dangerous situation without vetting those involved.
Not every Russian was bad, just like not every Italian was. Although…
Irina’s laugh was as gregarious as I’d heard in a long time. “I do hope you’ll enjoy the performance. We have a new member of our family, an unexpected hire than I believe will take our troupe to another level.”
She turned her attention to the makeshift stage. Fortunately, the event was being held in the ballroom of the elegant Ritz-Carlton instead of a theater setting. That allowed for drinking to handle the tediousness of the ballet.
“I’m happy for you.”
“It’s very much thanks to our benefactors such as your amazing family.”
“I must admit, I’m not in tune with the ballet.”
She patted my hand just as the lights began to dim, an indication the presentation was about to begin.
“Don’t worry, Jaxon. This is a freestyle performance.
Anything our artists want to do. They selected their own costumes, music, and choreography.
My guess is the pieces selected are all very modern.
Enjoy. Who knows. You might very well find your soulmate among the dancers. ”
Why was it that everyone wanted to set me up? I was perfectly happy being a bachelor.
As she walked away, my smile began to fade.
If I had to do one of these a week, my damn face would crack.
I took up residence at one of the standing bar top tables, ordering a real drink while the other guests seated themselves in the velvet-draped chairs in front of the stage. I could see just fine.
Minutes later, the lights dimmed even more, only tabletop candles and the swirling glittery lights flashing across the stage providing any relief from the shadows.
Thankfully, my drink arrived before the room was pitched into near total darkness.
Tonight’s drink of choice? A classic bourbon from the Pappy Van Winkle collection.
It was just under a thousand dollars a bottle, and the hotel was one of the few in the city who carried the expensive brand.
Besides our family’s clubs and restaurant, that is.
They knew me well enough here, a location that I’d frequented with more than one beautiful woman. Not tonight. One hour tops and I would be gone.
As I enjoyed a swallow, I pulled out my phone to ensure the nothing within the Prince family regime had blown up in my absence. Perhaps I was hopeful for a text or email from my Capo indicating confirmation of what he’d told me earlier in the day.
Seeing nothing annoyed the hell out of me.
I’d rarely be considered a patient man, especially when it came to anyone with the misguided thought of invading our territory.
As the music began to play, I scrolled through my other meetings, including a link my brother and Don had established as a reminder of our usual monthly business meeting.
If I didn’t click the link for attendance, by the end of the evening he’d be hounding me.
Technology had certainly changed our world, something my father had shaken his head over, preferring the old-fashioned methods of doing business.
After a few minutes of easing the boredom, I shoved the phone into my jacket pocket and glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up an entire wall at my beloved city.
While darkness hung over the city, the shimmer of outside lights reflected the attitude of Bourbon Street and beyond.
New York might be considered the city that never slept, but New Orleans had to be a close second.
Applause captured my attention. Only then did I realize the performances were short. The least I could do was to pretend that I was enjoying the ballet if only for the thirty-minute allotment.
A number of artists came on, their styles all different, their costumes colorful and unique.
I was on my second drink when the last performer stepped onto the stage.
The lights shimmered in an entirely different way than the previous dances, the stage glittering as if polished with gold.
The holographic effect was breathtaking yet unable to hide the beauty of both her fluid movements and the crimson costume she was wearing.
While I was certainly no expert in Greek mythology, it was clear her costume of choice was Aphrodite.
The goddess of passion.
As she began the dance, I could easily tell without knowing a thing about ballet that she was more than simply professionally trained. She was perfect for the dance, her rounded curves and long legs accentuated in the stunning flow of sheer material.
With every step, every move of her arms as she swayed in time to the powerful music, I was even more enthralled.
I wasn’t the kind of man to find myself in a vacuum around any woman, but this was an exceptional woman and I was holding my breath.
When she was on point, lifting her arms toward the glittering ceiling, her expression of serenity had a calming effect.
Before I realized I’d even moved, I was standing only feet away from the stage. For a man who’d never truly valued art, her beauty and majesty held my attention.
And kept me fully aroused.
When she was finished, the applause was thunderous, people on their feet.
She seemed embarrassed at the reactions, backing away as if completely uncertain of what to do. Yet she recovered, bowing to the audience before taking a few seconds and making eye contact with everyone in the front row.
I was the last on the list and when she captured my eyes, the subtle and highly suggestive gesture of her tongue darting across her stained bottom lip was powerful enough my balls tightened. Holy shit. Those were the only appropriate words.
All time stopped, a ridiculous cliché but so truthful at this moment. My heart pounded, my blood pressure through the roof. She seemed to sense my condition, cocking her lovely head and allowing her gaze to fall in appreciation. To say thunder rolled wasn’t an exaggeration.
In turn, I lifted my glass, allowing my admiration to be known.
Every dancer made another appearance before the lights slowly began to dim. The unknown Aphrodite offered another look in my direction, finally allowing me to experience her smile.
The moment was as jarring as her performance. She was positively glowing, lighting up the entire room with her energy and beauty.
“Wow,” I said out loud.
While the audience slowly returned to their tables, I stood where I was.
Irina was now on stage, using her arms as props.
Hopefully, the ballet director was doling out accolades.
If a man with no knowledge of ballet could enjoy a performance, something had been done right.
Chuckling, I finally turned away, heading back to my earlier perch.
After a few minutes and four conversations later, I checked my watch. The goddess had disappeared and I’d grown bored. I’d made my appearance as my sister had asked. Now it was time to head home. Maybe tonight would be the perfect hot tub night.
I buttoned my jacket and headed into the corridor, moving toward the bank of elevators.
After pressing the button, I took a deep breath, noting a presence beside me mere seconds later.
The scent of light perfume tickled my nose, but it was the sway of material that caught my full attention.
When I casually tipped my head, I was pleasantly surprised to see Aphrodite standing next to me.
With a duffle bag slung over her shoulders, her toe shoes replaced with red tennis shoes, I was wildly smitten if only for the enjoyment of watching her move.
Which was why I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off her.
Still wearing the mask with gold flecks of glitter shimmering across the visible bottom of her cheeks and on her shoulders, she was a vision of beauty.
She had long dark hair, the soft and easy curls dancing delicately down to the middle of her back.
I longed to run my fingers through them to test the softness.
Why not leave my mask on as well? The air of mystery was a powerful aphrodisiac.
For a man used to both taking and keeping control, I was somewhat surprised at my reaction.
Then again, her beauty was transcendent, alluring in a way that I wondered if she was aware of.
With the elevator taking its sweet time, I allowed my gaze to fall very slowly from the angle of her chin to her long neck, her sculpted arms and breasts that would fit perfectly in my hands.
My cock was already throbbing while filthy thoughts of ravaging her body shifted into my mind.
She threw a glance in my direction only once and the fiery look in her eyes was different than before. Then again, I’d been appreciative of her dance instead of her voluptuous body.
When the elevator doors opened, she offered a deep, intensely personal and positively annoyed smile. I allowed her to step into the cold steel box first. Once inside, she lifted her head, offering me the exact same slow and easy onceover that I’d done with her.
Filled with amusement, I stepped into the elevator a beat before the doors closed. That afforded me another heated look.
And to say I was hooked was an understatement.
When I reached over, pressing the button for the lobby, my arm grazed hers. The jolt of electricity was enough we both noticed. But the feisty goddess took a step further away.
You bet I turned my head in her direction.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not nice to stare?”
Her question was filled with a sultry lilt that allowed a series of images to play out in my mind. In my very dirty mind.
“Yes, she did, along with reminding me that women are the most beautiful creatures on earth. Didn’t your mother ever tell you to be careful garnering the attention of monsters?”
“Yes, she did. She also taught me how to kill them.”
With another toss of her heated gaze, her nose wrinkled and at that moment, I knew that I’d be spending the night with the precious gem.
Whether she knew it yet or not.