40. Chapter 40 #2
A spark of anticipation went straight through me.
“Together?” I asked.
“Not together together.” Scarlett laughed. “Although that would probably kill them.”
“Separate photoshoots,” Lacey clarified. “Same photographer. Same Valentine’s conspiracy.”
I thought about Lachlan opening his phone wherever we went tonight and finding a picture he had absolutely not been expecting.
Then another.
And another.
My smile must have given me away.
Scarlett pointed at me. “She’s in.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Lacey’s fingers were already moving over her phone. “I’m texting Aria.”
“Right now?”
“She can find someone.”
Less than five minutes later, Lacey’s phone chimed.
She read the message and started laughing.
“What?” I asked.
“She says she has a female photographer DarkMatter already vetted, a private studio available in forty-five minutes, and she wants to know how scandalous we intend to get.”
Scarlett held out her hand. “Give me the phone.”
Lacey passed it over.
Scarlett typed something.
I leaned across the space between us. “What did you say?”
She hit send before showing me the screen.
Scandalous enough to ruin three men’s control.
Aria’s reply appeared almost immediately.
Perfect. I’ll handle it.
The rest of the afternoon moved considerably faster than the morning.
Aria’s photographer was discreet, cheerful, and completely unfazed by three women arriving with champagne-fueled ambitions and very different ideas about what constituted an appropriately indecent photo.
By the time we finished, I had several images hidden in a locked folder on my phone that I could barely believe were me.
Lacey and Scarlett were equally pleased with themselves.
We separated afterward to get ready for our respective evenings, with plans to wait for the right moment before starting our little Valentine’s conspiracy.
Lachlan was in the living room when I stepped out of our bedroom in the red dress I’d bought.
Thin spaghetti straps left my shoulders bare, while the fitted bodice hugged my breasts and waist before flaring into a short, full skirt that floated around my thighs when I walked.
I’d finished it with red high heels and left my hair down over my shoulders.
The way he stared at me made every ridiculous dollar I had spent worth it.
Dinner was beautiful. Broadway was even better than I’d imagined.
The music seemed to fill every inch of the theater, the sets transformed in front of my eyes, and for a few hours the entire world narrowed to whatever was happening on that stage.
I’d had opportunities to go with the girls, but I’d wanted my first Broadway show to be with Lachlan. I was glad I’d waited.
By the time we stepped back into the cold Manhattan night, I was happy, buzzed on wine, and carrying four images in my phone that Lachlan knew absolutely nothing about, and I was dying to see whether his reaction lived up to everything I’d imagined while taking them.
He slid his hand around mine as our SUV waited at the curb.
“We’re meeting the others at Xyst for a drink before we head home.”
Now that caught my attention. I’d heard about Xyst for weeks without ever setting foot inside the club Lachlan practically lived in. It belonged to a part of his life I’d heard plenty about but hadn’t actually seen yet, and I was excited to see the place for myself.
The line outside Xyst stretched halfway down the block.
Valentine’s Day had apparently convinced a large percentage of Manhattan that romance required alcohol, loud music, and clothing designed to test the structural limits of fabric.
Our SUV had barely stopped at the curb before Lachlan opened his door and stepped out. I followed, gathering the skirt of my dress before he reached my side and offered me his hand.
Cold air rushed beneath my wrap.
“Busy night,” I said.
“Valentine’s always is.”
Two men at the entrance checked names and scanned membership credentials while another kept an eye on the line. The crowd parted, and we walked straight to the door.
A large man in a dark suit stepped away from the door as we approached.
“Evening, boss.”
“Slade, this is Isabella.”
His attention moved to me, and his expression warmed. “Miss Isabella. Welcome to Xyst.”
“Thank you.”
Lachlan’s hand settled at the small of my back, and Slade opened the door.
The music hit me first.
Bass rolled through the floor beneath my heels while lights moved over a crowd that seemed to fill every available space.
The long bar was packed three deep, bartenders working beneath shelves of glowing bottles.
Beyond it, bodies moved together across the dance floor, while the balconies rose above them in dark, curving levels broken by private booths and lower pools of light.
People were drinking, dancing, kissing, and flirting in an atmosphere that was openly sensual without feeling cheap.
Xyst was beautiful.
Dark, expensive, decadent, and very obviously built by men who had never worried much about whether the rest of the world approved of them.
I turned slowly, taking in the crowded bar, the balconies above us, the security positioned where they could watch without hovering, and the staff moving through hundreds of people as though the entire place ran on an invisible set of rules.
“Lachlan, this is incredible.”
His gaze moved over the room as though he were seeing something far more ordinary than I was. “You like it?”
“I knew Xyst was successful. I wasn’t expecting—” I looked around again. “This. It’s gorgeous.”
His mouth curved.
“Me, Lucian, Gabriel, and Julian built it from nothing.”
“How long did it take?”
“Years. Finding the building was the easy part. Getting it built the way we wanted without half of Manhattan knowing exactly what we were doing took considerably longer.”
I smiled. “That sounds suspiciously like mafia code for a great deal of money and several favors nobody put in writing.”
“Now you’re learning.”
I looked over the club again, more impressed than before. “You should be so proud of this.”
He squeezed my waist.
“I am.”
As we crossed the main floor, people greeted Lachlan without making a production of it.
He didn’t have to announce himself or demand anyone’s attention.
Everyone simply knew who he was. One of the bartenders lifted two fingers in greeting before returning to a row of waiting drinks.
A security guard near the stairs stopped Lachlan long enough to give him a quick report about something happening below in one of the private gaming rooms.
Lachlan listened, asked a couple of questions, then said, “Move another man over there until the party clears out. No need to make a scene unless the idiot gives you one.”
“Got it.”
The guard disappeared.
We continued through the club. A bartender set a whiskey on the edge of the bar without being asked, and Lachlan picked it up while we walked.
“Come on. The others are upstairs.”
We climbed to one of the upper balcony levels, where the crush of the crowd eased without disappearing completely. The music was still loud enough to feel in my chest, but the private booths gave us enough separation to talk without shouting.
Lachlan guided me toward one overlooking the main floor.
Lacey spotted us first and waved us over.
Nik sat beside her with one arm stretched along the back of the curved booth. Lucian and Scarlett occupied the other side, drinks already on the table in front of them.
Scarlett’s eyes swept over my dress.
“Oh, that was worth the Black Card.”
“I thought so,” I said, spinning just enough to let the skirt fan out around me.
Lachlan’s gaze traveled over me with obvious appreciation. “Whatever it cost was worth every cent. She looks fucking beautiful.”
Scarlett grinned and slid out of the booth. “Come on. Get in here.”
I stepped past her and slid onto the curved seat. Lachlan followed and settled beside me, his hand resting on my thigh as Scarlett reclaimed her place next to Lucian.
He raised his glass to Lachlan and took a sip of his whiskey.
A server appeared almost immediately, and Lachlan ordered wine for me before I could decide what I wanted. Under ordinary circumstances, that probably should have annoyed me.
Instead, he ordered exactly what I’d been drinking at dinner, which was perfect.
I settled closer beside him.
Below us, the live band played and the crowd roared. From this height, the dance floor looked almost fluid, people shifting beneath sweeping beams of light.
“So?” Lacey asked. “First Broadway show?”
“I loved it.”
Lachlan tipped his whiskey toward me. “She nearly forgot I was there.”
“That is not true.”
“You shushed me twice.”
“You were talking.”
“I made one observation.”
“During the show.”
Nik’s mouth twitched.
Scarlett pointed at me. “Correct response. We’ll train them eventually.”
“Good luck with that,” Lucian said.
My wine arrived.
We talked for a while about nothing important, which may have been what I enjoyed most. No one was discussing governments, cartels, security threats, or who needed to be killed before morning.
Just six people drinking together on Valentine’s Day while music pounded below.
Lacey winked at me, then casually picked up her phone.
A few seconds later, mine buzzed on the table.
I picked it up and read the message from her.
Now would be a very good time to send the first photo.
I looked up.
Scarlett must have been reading the same message, the corners of her mouth curving up.
I managed to keep my expression neutral as I opened the locked folder on my phone, found the image I wanted, and sent it to Lachlan.
Nik’s phone buzzed against the table, and almost simultaneously, all three men reached for their phones.
I took a perfectly innocent sip of wine.
The photo I had sent Lachlan was the least scandalous one from the afternoon, which said more about the other photos than it did about this one.
I was stretched across a deep red velvet chaise in black lace, posed far more provocatively than anything I’d ever imagined doing for a camera.