The moment we reach the doorway, the man’s eyes snap open, like a hound catching a scent. He sits up so fast that his elbow strikes the proffered flute, spilling it onto the kneeling woman. He doesn’t even notice. The only thing he sees in that moment is Vanessa, and he’s on his feet in a blink, a smile lighting his face into something incandescent.
At the same moment he spots Vanessa, so does the big man at the bar. His is a very different kind of stare, something hard and almost possessive. He starts to rise, stops and downs his drink instead, pushing it forward for a refill. As the ginger-blond man passes behind him, his head jerks that way, eyes narrowing. He looks between Vanessa and the other man and then snaps his fingers for his drink, attention back on the bartender.
“I knew you couldn’t stay away,” the ginger-blond man says as he approaches. He pulls Vanessa into a half embrace, and she air-kisses his cheek.
“Marius,” she says. “I’d like you to meet my guests.”
Marius Archer. Arms dealer.
When Vanessa had been speculating on who might attend, she’d mentioned Marius Archer. Oh, Vanessa had smoothed over the edges on that one—he’s in the military technology business. And maybe the guy doesn’t actually sell weapons themselves, but yeah, mentally, he’s been “Marius Archer, the arms dealer” to me. The problem is that I’d already assigned that name to the guy at the bar, if only subconsciously, and it takes a moment to shift it to the handsome ginger-blond in front of me.
Marius turns our way. His gaze lands on Connolly first, and there’s a flash of something almost like pleased recognition, quickly doused with, “I know you, don’t I? Conlin, is it? No, O’Connell?”
“Connolly. Aiden Connolly. We’ve met. Multiple times.”
“Right. Of course. The Connolly boy. Luck worker. Good to see you again, Aiden.”
Marius turns to me, and his smile widens. When he says, “I definitely haven’t met you,” it could come with a leer or a creepy grin, but it’s light, off-hand flattery, like the appraising glance that accompanies it.
“Kennedy Bennett,” I say.
“Bennett?” His blue eyes spark. “One of the Bennetts, I presume. It is lovely to meet you, Ms. Bennett. I presume you’re here to help Vanessa procure an object she has very clearly, very definitively said she does not want.” He looks at Vanessa and lifts a brow.
“I don’t want the necklace,” she says. “Aiden does. His invitation, though, seemed to get lost in the mail.”
“Most did, I think. The Hill-Cabots have a very precise idea of who does and who does not qualify for their attention.” He looks at Connolly. “Your parents should have said they were fronting you. That’d have gotten you an invitation.”
“He has one now,” Vanessa says. “And I have the opportunity to wear a pretty frock and spend an evening among friends without having to jump into the feeding frenzy for that accursed necklace.”
A look passes through Marius’s eyes. Then he finds a blazing smile and says, “Well, it’ll all be over soon enough, Vess.”
“The necklace isn’t here yet, is it?” I say, scanning the exhibit boxes.
“Oh, no. That will be a very special presentation, full of pomp and circumstance.”
“Will they let the curse weavers near it?” I say. “That always helps. I’m presuming there are curse weavers here besides me.”
“Mmm, her, I believe?” He nods toward a gray-haired woman who is alone in a corner and pretending she’s busy checking phone messages, as if she hasn’t been abandoned by her host.
Marius scans the room, and his gaze lands on a blond hanging off an older man. “And possibly her, though if you ask me, I’m thinking she’s . . .”
“Paid companionship?”
He laughs. It’s a bark of a laugh, sudden and surprised. “Yes, that’s one way to put it, I suppose. The nicest way.”
“You didn’t bring a curse weaver yourself?”
“If I win the auction, I’ll decide what to do with it at that point. No sense putting the cart in front of the horse.”
Could that mean he already has a curse weaver? Hope? I’d used paid companionship to see how he reacted. He didn’t, and nothing in his demeanor or his word choice or his tone reminds me of the guy on the phone.
Vanessa rests her fingertips on his arm and murmurs. “As lovely as it is to see you, Marius, I’m afraid I need to . . . pay my respects. Before the tension grows any tighter.”
“Hmm.” Marius glances over his shoulder at the big man, who’s studiously working on his drink. “Would you like me to take your guests around? Perform the necessary introductions?”
“Thank you for offering, but . . .” She glances at him. “I think perhaps it’s a good time to take some air. It’s a bit stuffy in here, and you won’t want to miss the unveiling.”
A look passes between them. Marius forces a smile. “All right, then. I’ll step outside and see you all later.”
He leaves, and Vanessa assures us she’ll be back to perform introductions in a few moments. As she heads toward the man at the bar, Connolly leads me deeper into the room.
“Her ex,” he murmurs.
“Which one?”
“Both.”
I try not to gape at Vanessa and the man at the bar, but I can’t resist a peek. She’s beside him, leaning in, and he’s ignoring her.
“Ex-husbands, I’m guessing?” I say.
Connolly pauses. “I don’t like to gossip, but in business, it helps to understand the competition, including their interpersonal dynamics.”
“And there are definitely dynamics at play here.”
He nods. “Hector is her ex-husband. Marius is an ex-lover. She gets along very well with Marius, as you saw. Hector . . . is another story.”
“I see that,” I say.
Vanessa’s talking to Hector as he looks straight ahead. When Vanessa starts to leave, Hector grabs her wrist. I tense. Connolly puts a hand on my arm.
“Better not,” he murmurs. “That’s why she asked Marius to leave. Her relationship with Hector is fractious, but she prefers to handle it herself.”
Even as Connolly speaks, Vanessa is peeling the man’s massive fingers from her forearm. He grunts and takes his hand back and then says something, and they fall into conversation, his gaze on her now.
“Hector,” I murmur. “That’d be Hector Voden. Construction, right? He owns the Voden Group.”
While I’d pictured him as the arms dealer, this fits, too. As Vanessa’s ex-husband, though? No. Marius certainly fits as a former lover. But this guy at the bar, bristling with hostility and contempt for everything around him? Married to charming, vibrant Vanessa?
“He must have been a very different guy when he was younger,” I murmur.
“Presumably. Now, may I get you a drink?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I want to say I’ll go to the bar with Connolly, but that’ll seem as if I want to eavesdrop on Vanessa and Hector. Which I do . . . to hear Hector’s voice and see whether he could be Hope’s captor. Vanessa will make sure we are properly introduced, though, so I let Connolly head to the opposite end of the bar with an order for something bubbly.
The problem with such a small party is that it’s hard to people-watch without staring. Even harder when people-watching—and listening—is what I’m here for. These are the major players. I want to put names to faces. All I have so far are Marius and Hector, whom Connolly said are at the top of the food chain, along with Vanessa. There are a few others, but without more data, I need to wait for introductions.
The one I really want to meet is Havoc. She holds Rian Connolly’s debt. Is there a chance she also holds my sister? Playing it both ways? Or screwing over the Connollys?
Hmm, seems I had to get that necklace myself. Now you really owe me.
I scan the attendees, looking for someone who fits Vanessa’s description of “a capo who thinks herself a godfather.” Self-important and chafing at being kept out of the upper echelons.
>
That’s when the woman who’d been kneeling beside Marius sets her sights on Connolly. As he’s turning from the bar, drinks in hand, she lays her fingers on his arm, stopping him.
“Aiden Connolly, I believe.” Her voice wafts to me. “You look so much like your brother.”
I freeze. Connolly murmurs something I don’t hear. The woman laughs, a tinkling sound as her fingers glide down Connolly’s arm and over the back of his hand. He stiffens. There’s a look in his eyes I know well. I’ve seen it in every girl cornered by a guy at a bar.
I start toward them. Connolly doesn’t notice me. He’s listening to the woman as her fingers slide from his hand to the champagne flute he’s holding. When she tries to tug it away, he gives a tight-lipped, very un-Connolly smile and nods toward me.
“I can certainly get you a drink if you’d like,” he says. “This one’s for my . . .” He finishes that sentence with a nod toward me, and I’m impressed by how smooth that is, leaving the last word to her interpretation.
“Hey,” I say. “That looks delicious. What is it?”
“Kir royale. Champagne and crème de cassis.”
“Mmm.” I take the flute in my left hand and extend my right. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Kennedy, this is Havoc. Havoc, Kennedy.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ms . . . Ms. Havoc?”
“Just Havoc,” she says.
Vanessa appears and envelops the younger woman in an embrace. “Havoc, how lovely it is to see you.”
There’s no snark in Vanessa’s voice, but Havoc stiffens and disengages fast.
Before anyone can speak, Vanessa takes my arm. “If you don’t mind, Havoc, I promised to properly introduce my guests about the room. We should do that before the necklace arrives. After that, no one will have eyes for anything else.”
“Your guests?” Havoc’s gaze cuts from Vanessa to Connolly. “I thought you didn’t want the necklace.”
“I don’t, which is why they are my guests. Aiden is planning to bid, but he wasn’t invited. I was invited, and I’m not planning to bid. It worked out perfectly.”
“Then why’s she here?” Havoc jerks her chin at me.
“Because she’s a curse weaver.” Vanessa speaks in measured tones. “And the necklace is cursed. Presumably, Aiden wants it uncursed.”
Havoc glowers. “Obviously. I just mean why is she here.”
“To look at the necklace,” I say. “It’ll help me prepare.”
She sniffs. “I would think a decent curse weaver wouldn’t need that.”
“No,” I say evenly. “A decent curse weaver knows to take every opportunity to familiarize herself with a curse. Particularly such an infamous one.”
“So you’re saying it might be too much for you.”
Vanessa tugs my arm and inserts herself between us. “It may be too much for anyone, Havoc. That’s the point. The more homework Kennedy can do, the better prepared she’ll be. Now, if you’ll excuse us . . .”
“Take Kennedy around please,” Connolly says. “I need to speak to Havoc.”
Vanessa nods and leads me off. Once we’re out of earshot, I say, “I feel as if I’ve made an enemy without even trying.”
“Havoc is the sort of woman who considers herself ‘not like other girls.’ She prefers to associate with men.”
I make a face.
“My sentiments exactly,” she murmurs. “As for her reaction, you’re with Aiden, and that’s a problem.”
“She likes him.”
Her lips purse as we stop in a quiet spot. “No offense to Aiden, but this is about me. We have . . . history. She knows I’ve taken an interest in Aiden. She’s not sure whether I want him as a lover, an employee or a business contact. She’s covering her bases.”
I glance back to where Connolly is talking to Havoc, and she’s standing far too close, her face tilted up to his as if they’re having a very private conversation.
“Several months ago,” Vanessa continues, “Havoc and I were at the same party, as we often are, unfortunately. I was talking to Marius and several others, and Aiden’s name came up. Luck workers are always valuable assets. I was saying I thought he was worth cultivating. He has obvious talent. He’s confident and self-assured, but not a braggart or a grandstander. He’s intelligent, but never needs to be the smartest man in the room. Polite and respectful, but no fawning sycophant. He’s an excellent luck worker, who reflects well on anyone who employs him. A week later, I hear through the grapevine that Havoc has hired his brother.”
“She wanted her own Connolly luck worker.”
“Perhaps, but I’m more concerned that she saw Rian—who seems a bit of a wild card—as a way to Aiden. It didn’t take long for her to snare Rian in a debt he couldn’t repay. And then, oh look, there’s this necklace she’ll accept in exchange. A necklace Aiden could get.”
“Forcing Aiden to jump through hoops isn’t exactly the way to get his attention.”
“Havoc wouldn’t see that. She’s a doer, not a thinker. A better criminal than criminal mastermind.”
“You said she used to work for someone higher up.”
Vanessa nods toward a figure coming through a doorway.
“Marius,” I say. “I saw her trying to get his attention earlier.”
“Hmm.” She glances around. “Now, where shall we begin these introductions? How about over here . . .”
We make the rounds. I pay the most attention to voices but also to attitudes. Do they know who I am? Why I’m here? Do they treat me like Hope’s captor did? Do their word choices invoke him? The cadence of their speech?
Connolly joins us partway through, which helps. He can double-check my interpretations of attitude and voice.
It’s maybe a half hour later when we finally approach the last potential buyer. The guy at the bar. Vanessa’s ex. Hector Voden.
“Aiden could handle this,” I say to Vanessa. “You don’t need to speak to him again.”
She waves her fingers. “It’s fine. We’ve been divorced longer than we were together. We’ll never get on, but it’s not as if we did when we were married, either.” A tight smile. “When you travel in the same circles as your ex, you develop a veneer of civility.”
Before I can argue, she’s sweeping us toward Hector.
“Saving the most important introduction for last,” she says. “May I introduce Hector Voden. Hector, I’d like to introduce my guests for the evening.”
Hector turns. His gaze slides up me and then down Connolly. There’s nothing lascivious about it. Nothing flattering, either.
“I see you haven’t lost your taste for pretty young things,” Hector says, returning to his drink.
“Now, now. These are business associates. I believe you know—”
“The Connolly boy,” he says. “One of them anyway. This would be the prissy one.”
“Moving right along, this young lady is . . .”
“One of the Bennett girls. To uncurse the necklace that you insist you don’t want.” He peers at me. “Please don’t tell me you’re the middle sister.”
“Yes, I’m Kenn—”
He snorts and looks at Vanessa. “This is why you’ll never play at the top, Vanessa. What made you pick her? I could say it’s that weakness for pretty young things, but from what I hear, she’s not even the prettiest. Let me guess, she’s the only one who’d accept your offer.”
He looks at me. “Is that right, Miss Bennett? Your sisters turned Vanessa down?” His gaze shifts to Connolly. “Or did you do the hiring, boy? Had to scrape the bottom of the Bennett barrel?”
“Well, this was fun,” Vanessa said. “You are as charming as ever, Hector. We will leave you to the companionship of that glass and avail ourselves of the buffet.”
He mutters something as we leave. I’m sure it’s not a compliment.
As we walk to the food, I glance at Connolly. Alarm bells had rung nonstop during that conversation. Hector’s dismissive attitude. His sneering t
one. Calling Connolly prissy. Dismissing my skills. Referring to me as Miss Bennett. Saying I wasn’t the prettiest sister . . . as if he’s seen the one who is.
At my look, Connolly nods. It’s not just me, then.
Vanessa murmurs. “Was I right? That was the most important introduction of the evening?”
“It was,” I say.
“Yes,” Connolly says. “It definitely was.”
She sighs. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Chapter Thirty
That should fix everything, right? Hector has Hope, so all we need to do is . . . What, exactly? He won’t be keeping her at home. Wherever he does have her, she’s well guarded.
Do we call the cops and report him as her kidnapper? That’d only make things worse. Confront him and demand her return? Yeah, this isn’t a guy who quails at threats.
Vanessa murmurs that she’ll handle this. We’ll talk more later, but she promises to get Hope back for us, and knowing who has her, she’s convinced she can do it.
The main thing now is to not react. Hector feels secure in sniping against Connolly and belittling me without fear that I’ll realize he’s the man on the other end of that phone. Either he presumes I won’t figure it out or he just doesn’t give a damn. Like I said, it doesn’t really matter if we know it’s him. I have my orders, and I’m obviously carrying them out.
I’m assembling a small plate from the buffet while trying to figure out what’s what. Connolly leans over and whispers, “Any allergies?”
I shake my head. Then he starts very discreetly making recommendations. I’m picking up a shrimp puff when his gaze cuts left. I follow it to a white-haired man in a tux with a dark-haired woman on his arm. The guy must be in his seventies; the woman isn’t much older than me. They’ve just appeared through the back entrance.
“The Hill-Cabots,” Connolly whispers. “Josephine’s son, George, and his wife, Brianne.”
“Wife? Oh my God, she’s been cursed by the necklace!” I hiss.
He glances over, and then his lips twitch as he realizes I’m joking.
Cursed Luck, Book 1 Page 21
