TWENTY-EIGHT
AFTER RAIDING ROXIE’S closet for fabulous shoes, and downing a couple of cocktails, she was in exactly the right mood to sail on into Roxie’s Ruby Room with the hostess at her side. Dance. Party. Not a care in the world. She could do this.
“Let’s sit first,” Roxie said, linking their arms to hold her close as they wound their way through the very important partiers in the exclusive, exclusive space.
Their destination? Four couches in a square, three occupied, one empty. Roxie didn’t sit on the vacant sofa; she shifted Tripp Breckenridge along with a knee bump and put them there next to him. Gia hadn’t drawn breath before a server handed both her and Roxie glowing cocktail glasses.
“Is this a new one?” Roxie asked and the server nodded.
She sipped. Sweet, kind of tangy.
“Zairn won’t like it,” Tripp said, ever cool as he slouched, arms laid along the back of the couch. “Won’t pass his stringent standards.”
Roxie swallowed. “Uh, I think I’m the better judge of the Emperor’s standards.”
“I’d dispute that,” Tripp said, almost smirking. “Though he is more likely to agree with you than anyone else.”
“Because I’m in charge of his sex life.”
“And his media image, yeah.”
“He cares less about that,” Roxie said from the corner of her mouth then landed a smile on the server. “It’s wonderful. But not in the top ten.”
The server nodded. “I’ll tell him.”
When the young woman tried to take the glass away, Roxie swooped it from her reach. “I’ll still drink it.”
The server left with her tray.
“You’ll drink anything, Rox Out,” Tripp said. “They haven’t figured that out yet?”
“I don’t believe in waste and am stricter in some arenas.”
“Your husband is.”
The friends’ banter was just what she needed to—wait, was that…
? Through the darkness, she could… The Ruby Room was intimate.
Busy, but not too busy, a testament to the popularity of the building’s owners, and their kindness.
There was someone familiar over there, decipherable through the low light.
She put down her glass. Was he familiar?
He’d caught her eye and she dismissed—but, no, it was.
Without a word, she got up to go marching across there. Irrational anger burst her blood cells.
Still ten feet away, she called out, “Carver.” He turned but probably hadn’t registered her identity before she said more.
“What are you doing here? Don’t you have a job to do?
You do have a job to do. Why are you hanging out here like—” the beer loose in his hand didn’t do him any favors. “Who is protecting Brogan?”
While Carver loitered around getting drunk.
He spoke to his group. “‘Scuse me.” Taking her arm, he ushered them to a quiet corner a few feet away. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing with me.” How could he be so calm? “You should be with Brogan.” A thought struck her and she glanced around. “He’s not here, is he?”
“This isn’t really his scene,” Carver said. “Brogan’s fine, he takes care of himself.”
“You mean he doesn’t have security?”
“Elton is security.”
His driver? That wasn’t enough. “You were there every day, all the time, security. That you provided and managed. Security.”
“For you,” he said, pure and simple. “Security was tight for you. Wide or close protection, whatever was necessary to keep you safe. Brogan never goes anywhere to need it. And if he does, he gives me a call. Anyway he works out and wouldn’t pass up a chance to punch certain people in the face.
Maybe any people given his current mood. Now you want to tell me what’s up?”
The look on his face, patient, expectant, maybe frustrated, there was no surprise.
There should be. What the hell was she doing charging over there to lay down the law?
Brogan wasn’t in trouble, didn’t need security?
Fine. That was his call. Maybe it was entitlement like this that caused him to cut ties with her.
“Nothing, I…” She’d massively overreacted. Massively. Why? She couldn’t answer that. “I just didn’t want him out…”
“I’d be surprised if you were unsafe here, but if you need me on duty for you—”
“No.” She swallowed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay, just—”
“Hey. Hey!” Tripp slid into their circle and tossed an arm across her shoulders. “Everyone having a good time?”
“Beat it, Breckenridge,” Carver said. “We’re talking.”
“No,” Gia said. “We’re done. Sorry. I shouldn’t have—sorry.”
Tripp went with her as she walked away. “You good?”
“How did I become this person?”
Suddenly the space was claustrophobic. No one looked at her. No one cared. Didn’t matter. She felt like a Christian in the Colosseum, lions bearing down upon her.
“Want to get out of here?”
Blinking, her eyes turned, rising to his. “Please.”
He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even put down his drink. Swooping her around, they were out the door like she’d never been there. The elevator was waiting and then they were inside going up.
“Most would say Brogan Spurn doesn’t bring out a person’s good side,” Tripp said, offering her his drink. Thank the gods for liquor. “Most would say…” The glass was still at her lip when one corner of his mouth tipped. “Good thing we know different, huh?”
The ping of the elevator heralded his hand meeting hers.
Clutching him tight, she let him lead down the corridor.
Private suites. These were the private suites.
Where did those gods go? She’d never been in Tripp’s suite before.
That had to be where they were going. Her brain was absolutely on a go-slow.
What had she expected? Oh, this could be bad.
Inside, drapes closed over the far wall covered the floor to ceiling windows. Lights were low, the bar beckoned. It reeked of a specific atmosphere.
He relieved her of the empty glass. Where’d all the liquid go? Was that her?
“You’re a wine drinker,” Tripp said, disappearing behind the bar. “Red or white? You like both, right?”
“Uh…” How did he know that? “Red… please.”
“Fingers crossed I get it right.”
Wine. How did he know she liked wine? And was that an implication she was picky? Brogan said that about her. Had he said that about her to Tripp? When was he talking to Tripp… about her?
“How do you, um… How do you know Brogan?”
They’d spent time together, her and Tripp, in the group. You know, with other people, Roxie people. This was their first one on one and she regretted it already.
“Spurn’s practically family,” he said, pouring wine. “Carver’s his cousin. He and my brothers own BKS, their security firm.”
Right. She knew that.
He came over, wine and Scotch in hand, to give her the former as he sat at her side. Right there next to her. Close. Too close?
“You know, Brogan and I just—we were—and we’re not—you’re gorgeous, you know you’re hot, and—I’m not—I didn’t—”
“Relax,” he said, highly amused. “If I wanted to seduce you, I’d have done it already.”
As he drank, his humor lit, smoldering with a guarantee she believed.
She shifted to get a better look at him. “You’re cocky.”
“I am.” Least he owned it. “Besides fresh back on the market isn’t my style. Except in specific circumstances, you know, my momma raised me right.” Uh… okay. “There’s a reason everyone loves me.”
Yes, and that confidence not only put her at ease, it broadened her smile.
“I feel utterly safe and highly unprepared.”
“Nothing to prepare for, baby. I’ve got you.”
That was seductive right now. Maybe not in an “I want to have sex with you” way, but in a “don’t let the big, bad world get me” kind of way.
Wanting to believe it, she asked, “You do?”
“They call me ‘Priest’ for a reason.” He swung one open arm out to the room. “Anything said in these hallowed walls is as private as confession.”
“Which may be why everyone likes you. What about you?” she asked. “Do you like everyone?”
“On the planet?”
“Those you’ve met.”
He pondered with a quick sideways head bob. “So everyone then?” She laughed at his smile, both arrogant and humble at the same time. “That’s a lot of people.”
“You need some time to think about it?”
“Hell, no. That’s an easy answer. Two people on this Earth will never benefit from my services.”
“Ah, interesting, and specific. And these two people are…”
“Going to remain a mystery,” he said, snickering as he swallowed more liquor. “Can’t take the chance someone will tip them off.”
“Isn’t it better they know so they never come to you?”
“Than I turn them away? No.”
And that was funny too. “Turn them away? That’s a polite way to put it.”
“Mom has spies everywhere.”
“You’re safe with me too. I’ve never met your mother. Heard a lot about her. She sounds wonderful.”
And she envied him growing up with a family like his.
“She is,” Tripp said. “And too patient with all of us.”
“Lighting Darkness is a Breckenridge charity, isn’t it?”
“Yep, and if you want in, my mom would be happy to have you.”
“In?” she asked. “Guess you haven’t heard I’m the poorest billionairess in history.”
His warmth wasn’t deterred. “That so? I’ve heard different.”
“Then people do lie to Priest.”
As someone whose bank account was so low, she hadn’t looked at a statement in years.
No lotto wins in her past, present, or future, and that’s what it would take.
Brogan was as close as she got to a jackpot.
Again, Brain? Brogan. Over. Finished. What part of that didn’t she understand? Move that man on out.
“Wealth doesn’t matter to my mom,” Tripp said. “I guarantee you’d already be suckered in if…”
“My family hadn’t kept me locked up?”
“Got to admit, you’ve been at the same parties as a lot of us, but Mom didn’t grab you. That’s unusual for her; she sniffs out bleeding hearts faster than I can talk a lady out her panties.”
“I’m still wearing mine.”
“Don’t be offended. Roxie has rules,” he said like that would make sense to her. “And Brogan’s my boy.”
Tripp had rules of his own? Red lines he wouldn’t cross. Damn, but that only made him more charming.
“My family are insular,” she said. “And my parents are… protective.”