Chapter 29 – Rae #2
Luigi gave me a wink and disappeared. On the way here, he’d been a little more forthcoming with my instructions.
The upper echelons of the mob were here tonight, but so were the elites of Boston.
I was supposed to mingle without seeming to eavesdrop.
I needed to find out if anyone was planning to invest in a venture called MAQUIX, fund a charity known as Angels of Peace, or liquidate any assets in the Bourbon Neighborhood.
None of that meant anything to me.
But Luigi said they were merely key words, and I just needed to listen and remember.
Grabbing a flute of champagne, I slowly wandered through the throng of buzzards.
There was nothing remotely fun about this party.
They were stuck up and snooty, standing at their bistro tables, eating chocolate that one lady said was imported from Europe or snagging crappy little appetizers from passing trays.
Because it was part of my job, I noticed the details like the servers weren’t holding the trays steady or that Franky’s food was so much better than this.
It was…strange. Strange to be here as a participant rather than working.
Honestly, I would have been more comfortable in the tuxedo and carrying a tray. I probably could have overheard more conversation that way too.
Arabella, swathed in yellow with gold tinsel in her hair, stood next to Mrs. Grimaldi, looking the picture of modest grace. I searched for Dominico. A pang shot through my chest not seeing him, but the big-bad boss wasn’t there either.
“The Bourbon Area holds potential!” a voice boomed.
Stopping by a potted plant, I listened hard.
“The rats are leaving the ship,” another voice admitted. “Could be ripe for the picking.”
“Does Hetron show any signs of developing the area?” someone asked.
Why don’t I have a pen to write this shit down? My phone was in Luigi’s car, because unlike so many of these ladies, I didn’t have a designer handbag to put it in.
“It’s sad to see so many mom-and-pop shops fall on hard times.”
“Who cares! We’ll score big. We just need to make a move. Do you see Grimaldi? I want to ask him what Hetron’s intentions are.”
“You walk into a room and every thought I have turns into you.” This voice spoke right next to my ear.
I jumped out of my skin, rounding on the smirking devil in black. “Nico! What the fuck, dude? Seriously!”
With a rough laugh, he stepped into me. His thumb traced my lip, tugging it down and hooking on my teeth. “Such a dirty mouth, cherry-bomb,” he growled. “Such a dirty, filthy tongue.”
The temperature in the room spiked. An instant tingle of heat buzzed between my legs.
“And these lips, so red and ripe.” He leaned closer, whispering against my ear. “Tonight, I want to see them wrapped around my dick before I rip that dress off of you.”
My core clenched tight.
Thank heavens I used lip stain, or else red paint would be smeared all over my face.
“I was trying to listen,” I muttered around his hold.
“Mmm, what an obedient little girl.” His teeth grazed my ear. “Keep up the good work. I’ll be sure to show you how much I appreciate it.”
He pulled away, leaving me aching.
I watched him disappear in the crowd. His costume was simple. A black suit that fit his large frame like a second skin. It wasn’t until he turned to shake hands and I caught his profile that I realized our masks matched.
If he was the devil in black, what did that make me?
I shook myself, but the group talking about the neighborhood project was gone. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I dumped the sticky sweet bubbles into a plant and carried my empty glass to the bar.
Tonight required a real drink.
“Bourbon. Neat.” I pulled some cash from the built-in bra, ignoring how hard and sensitive my nipples were thanks to the run-in with the monster.
“Do you have a brand preference?” the bartender asked.
I scanned the selection of bottles lining the shelf.
“It’s an open bar, sweetie, you can put that away,” a man in a ghoulish getup said, sidling up to me.
“Anything from Kentucky,” I told the bartender and handed him the twenty bucks. “That’s for you.”
“Thank you,” he said with a smile, pocketing the tip.
When he slid the tumbler to me, it was nice and full.
“Cheers.” The ghoul held up his fruity concoction.
I eyed the glass. I wasn’t in the mood to work the crowd. Tipping my own drink back, I took a healthy swallow, saluted him, and turned to people-watch.
“Not much of a talker, are you?” The ghoul laughed.
“And you can’t take a hint,” I shot back.
He reached out and ran a finger over my bare shoulder. Prickles, and not the good kind, sizzled over my skin. I jerked away.
“What’s your name, sweetie?”
I shot him a dark look. “Seriously?”
He held up both hands—both empty hands. “What? It’s just a question. Common decency.”
I was being unreasonable. The last thing I needed was to be thrown out for causing a scene. But if I didn’t lose this guy, it would put my spying at risk.
“Maggie,” I ground out.
“Maggie.” He tasted the word. “Nah, that’s too cute. How about I call you Electra? You look like you could be the goddess of the storms and seas.”
This guy might be better educated, but he was the exact same as the losers I made regret ruining my nights at the bars back home.
I brought my whiskey to my lips, but the bartender tapped my shoulder.
“Sorry, ma’am, that wasn’t from Kentucky.” He plucked it from my fingers.
“What the—”
The bartender flashed his eyes wide. Just once.
I swallowed my outburst, suddenly feeling wretched. “Thanks. I’ll take a bottled water.”
He nodded, and I turned back to the ghoul. “Get. Lost.”
The playful energy was gone. The man’s lip rose in an ugly snarl. “You’re a real bitch, you know that?”
I stepped into him, glaring in his face. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
His hands shot out. I moved mine faster, blocking as he tried to grab my wrist.
This wasn’t the ideal outfit, but if I had to fight him, I would.
Long fingers dug into my arms. I brought my left leg up and kneed his thigh. He twisted me. The bar top slammed into my spine.
Midnight shadows swept past me, and suddenly I was free. With a sickening crash, the ghoul’s face slammed against the marble counter.
The devil was here.
I stepped to the side, rubbing my arms. There would be bruises.
“She’s off limits,” Nico snarled, shoving the ghoul hard against the stone. “Got it?”
“Sir, he spiked her drink.” The bartender handed me an unopened bottle of water.
The half mask didn’t conceal Nico’s face as it contorted with rage. “How fucking dare you, Elliot.”
The ghoul whimpered.
“Nico.” I tapped his shoulder. “People are looking.”
The devil leaned over the man and whispered, “This isn’t over. Sleep with one eye open—while you can.”
With a final shove, Nico straightened. He stood guard while the ghoul tripped and stumbled away. And then, he turned to me. Cupping my cheek, he brought our faces together. The air thinned and my body both relaxed and came alive at once.
“I can pretend I don’t care in the name of business,” he rasped. “But the second someone else touches you…it’s over.”
My gasp of surprise was cut off by his mouth dropping to cover mine.