Chapter 7 Cassius
CASSIUS
The Red Court gala started at seven p.m. on the dot.
With a valet driver, it would take me about thirty minutes to get from the penthouse to the private lounge for the richest patrons in the Red Court.
I had had to throw my weight around some to get Sarah the exhibit in question, but time was no obstacle to me. Really, what was?
That meant that when the clock struck five p.m., I had my valet driver pull up to the hotel Sarah was staying at.
I did not give her notice that my driver was coming; she had to prove that she was ready.
Everyone said that billionaires most valued their time, for it was the only thing they had in common with everyone else, and that was true.
Someone wasting my money didn’t get under my skin nearly as much as someone wasting my time.
But time was also a test, a weapon that I could use. Did Sarah respect my time? Did Sarah understand the need to do everything down to the fucking second? Did Sarah realize what she had?
Do you realize what you have?
Yes. It’s the start of a test. A very personal test. A very subtle, but very personal, test.
I stood in a private hallway just outside the entrance of Ruby.
I would walk out at six p.m., fully expecting my driver to be there with Sarah, and then we’d head to the Red Court.
Would it get us there thirty minutes early?
Yes. Would that mean I’d have time alone with Sarah, time to probe inside her, see what made her tick, how I could best break her?
Oh, most certainly.
My watch buzzed at six p.m. I stepped outside. There was my valet driver, hurrying out of his driver’s seat to open the door for me. I stepped inside and smiled when I saw her waiting for me.
Sarah was an interesting mix; on the one hand, her curves, her dress, and her makeup made her look stunningly beautiful.
Mesmerizing, even. But there were just hints that she was feeling a bit rushed, pushed past her usual casual pace.
A fold in her dress she had not had time to ruffle out.
A strain by her eyes that suggested anxiety.
Most people would not notice such things. I was not most people.
But she was here.
“Hello,” she said, a hint of hesitation in her voice. She didn’t know what to think of this. Off balance was delicious.
“Welcome to my world, Sarah,” I said flatly. “As you have seen, I’m a man of little time and prompt order. You are fortunate that you were prepared when you were. I do not wait on people.”
“I figured as much,” she said, a hint of both fear and defiance in her voice. What an odd tension, I thought. Most people were either explicitly fearful or outright defiant, even if the latter usually masked fear. “I suppose I should thank you for making this happen and taking me to this.”
I snorted. I usually enjoyed more the feeling of people groveling than their gratitude.
And yet.
Something was different here. I wasn’t about to admit it, of course. It probably had something to do with our past, something to do with there being more than met the eye here. But fuck, Sarah’s half-full expression of gratitude warmed me.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I said. “You still haven’t seen anything at the Red Court. I warn you, it’s a ruthless event. Cameras, reporters, billionaires, celebrities. You wanted the attention for your career? Be careful what you wish for, because it might just be exactly what you want.”
“And what is it you wished for tonight?”
Damn, she was good. Maybe her being frazzled from having to hurry over was having an effect. I was all for it, if that was the case.
“I told you before, but I suppose for an old flame I can repeat myself,” I said. “I wished to do something nice for you to clean my mind of some of the more vengeful thoughts. I suppose you could say I wish to move on from what happened to… what happened to us, around us, years ago.”
“And what do you want to move toward, Cassius?”
I said nothing, leaning back in the limo and looking out the window at the Las Vegas Strip. Soon to be my Las Vegas Strip. I knew what I wanted to move toward, or rather, I knew what I told myself I wanted to move toward.
But the way things were going, a part of me was just ever so slightly concerned that might not be where we wound up.
The first camera flash came when the valet driver opened our car door.
The second, third, fourth, and God knows how many other camera flashes followed instantly. Sarah threw up an arm to protect her from the blinding light. Fool! You never threw your arm up at a camera.
Smiling—for the cameras, of course—I gently walked over to her, put my arm around her, and leaned into her ear.
“Put your fucking arm down and smile for the cameras,” I said, maintaining my media grin the whole time. “You want your career to take off? You want to be beloved by your fans and patrons?” You want to be set up for an even bigger fall when it’s all said and done? “Put a smile on. Now.”
Sarah did as I commanded. People usually did, especially when they realized it was for their own good.
“Now,” I said, “put your arm in mine and let me walk you down.”
I offered her my arm. This should have just been a standard part of the evening. I couldn’t even begin to say how many women had had their hands in the nook of my elbow, the first touch in many for the evening.
But, fuck me, when Sarah put her hand on my arm, I about shot up from the spark I felt.
Heat filled my groin. I had to actively think about boring shit, like boardroom meetings and discussions with my brothers, just to keep my mind from racing through all the fucking we could do.
God, had sex with her been fucking amazing. To relive it…
I kept my smile on, hoping it didn’t grow too big and reveal my desires.
It was of no help, I realized, that Sarah had been much more seamless about putting her hand on my arm than she had been in lowering it for the cameras.
She was more naturally inclined to touch me than she was to show off herself.
Whatever the fuck that meant… it meant that breaking her would be so much more delicious. So much more delightful. She thought she could have me? She could. It would just come with a price of vengeance after.
I walked her down the red carpet, waving to the cameras, before taking her to a side entrance to the Red Court.
The main doors were for the general public, which we most certainly were not.
As soon as I got to the side doors, seeing we were alone, I pulled my arm away.
I did not yank my arm away—that would be unbecoming of me, and besides, it would give Sarah the wrong idea—but I needed to regain my composure, even if only internally.
It was entirely unexpected what she had done, but it was not insurmountable.
“So now what?” Sarah said. If she were aware of what I had just thought and done, her tone did not give it away.
“In a minute, we are going to step foot inside the Red Court,” I said. “I warn you, Sarah. You must keep your composure better than you did out there. Throwing your arm up in front of the cameras? You act as if you’ve never been in front of the media before.”
“I haven’t.”
Right. I had just taken it for granted in the circles I ran in that we all knew how to deal with paparazzi and the media. That was not an automatic for ninety-nine percent of people.
“Then let me give you the basics,” I said. I came very close to placing my hand on her shoulder, the way I would a direct report to make clear my instructions. I didn’t, but only because if I did, I knew I’d start thinking about fucking her again.
I might still by the end of the night, or before her fall, but I needed to keep my composure for now.
“When in doubt, smile and speak with exuberance. Don’t let yourself get too giddy.
You are always in control, no matter how overwhelmed you feel or what you may think.
If someone asks you what your art really means, what you really want to convey, anything that might suggest something more than a superficial answer, simply say that you pull deep from within you and that inspiration strikes from out of nowhere.
You want to leave them with a sense of mystery and curiosity, yet warmth. Do you understand?”
Sarah nodded. There was a surprising lack of concern on her face now; I wondered if she’d gotten the same instructions from somewhere else before. Or if it’s how she’s treating me right now.
Curious. I might not be the only one playing a game here. Or perhaps I’m so enamored with it, I assume everyone is.
“Good,” I said. “Step forward and let’s begin.”
I opened the door for her. Sarah stepped inside. And though she did not gasp, though she listened well to me—she damn well had better—I could sense the immediate shock at the opulence of the Red Court.
Everywhere you looked, there was art worth millions of dollars hanging on the walls.
A giant crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room, large enough to span probably five or six rows of people.
Roses in half-dome glass cases, like one might have seen in Beauty and the Beast, were scattered across the room.
Red, gold, and purple—the colors of the Cosmopolitan—defined the room, from its carpets to its tapestries to even the napkins on tables.
Even for someone like me, it was pretty impressive. I had to imagine for Sarah, it was the most affluent room she’d ever stepped into.
And she hadn’t even noticed the best part yet. Actually, I knew what the best part was, but I didn’t even know what it looked like.
“My art!”
Now she had noticed the best part.
Her artwork. It wasn’t just here. I wasn’t just along the lines of all the other art—fuck that. If I requested something, it got center stage, center attention, the strongest spotlight.
And that’s exactly what Sarah Carpenter’s artwork was—in the middle of the room, in the center stage of the exhibit, visible from all angles of the Red Court.