“I think you do,” I said softly. “And I think that’s why you don’t want to be the face of YC.”
My suggestion seemed to land right between her eyes, which made her turn away. There was a tremor in her voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I stood to join her. “Look, I know she’s a scary person. I know she fucked up Devlin’s life, and yours too. Hell, she fucked up mine. That’s why we have to take a stand, Darcy. We have to fight back. We can’t let her get away with anything.”
She backed away from me like I was trying to hand her plutonium. “You know what? I forgot. I actually have somewhere that I have to be. Please. Take a look around. Take whatever clothes you need. And we’ll talk later. Okay?”
“Darcy,” I started but she had already grabbed her purse from under the clutter and ran towards the door. She had slammed out of the townhome before I could catch up with her. I sighed as I looked around. The clutter of the room was suddenly eerily symbolic of the mess surrounding the Masters and Suzanne Everhart. It would take a lot of digging to unearth anything useful, discarding all of the insignificant crap first.
Finally I climbed the stairs to her bedroom, where I knew most of her completed projects hung in the closet. As I passed one of the closed doors along the hallway, I decided to use the empty house as an excuse to peek inside.
I could tell right away that this was Devlin’s room, likely where he stayed if he stayed at the townhome with his sister, and where he had lived whenever his ill-fated liaison with Suzanne Everhart began. It didn’t look like it had changed much in the years he’d lived elsewhere. The bedding was navy blue plaid, and the furniture was plain oak. The clothes that hung in the closet were more casual, although there were designer pieces mixed in among the others, which I sensed had everything to do with Suzanne.
I prowled through the closet, which was nothing really but clothes. Finally I sat on the bed to go through the nightstand. There were packages of condoms, a couple of old magazines, as well as several books. Mostly mainstream fiction, but a couple of classics. There was also a stack of pictures, which gave me a sense of his life prior to Las Vegas.
There was the little three-year-old boy sitting at an old upright piano. Later the child prodigy sat in an old Brooklyn brownstone, next to a stout Italian, whose antique metronome sat atop her old upright piano as she guided him through his lessons. Then there was the dower teen, whose descent into the life of a bad boy began in earnest with Las Vegas as a backdrop, where he took pictures with the outcasts of his class, and whatever naughty girl wanted to sit in his lap.
Finally there were the San Francisco photos, of a young man in college, working on a tour boat, living hand to mouth out of a tiny closet of an apartment overlooking the bay.
Everything he had ever been before he met me, I held in my hands, and it was all exactly as he had told me it was.
“I may not tell you everything, but what I do say is usually always honest.”
I sighed as I replaced the photos next to a rectangular box made out of tin. I picked it up and pried it open. Inside were dozens of business cards. With a sinking feeling, I was sure this was where his life as an escort started. Every business card named a female, one after the other.
There were only two men in the mix. A cosmetic surgeon named Dr. Amos Feldt, and of course, Harvey Everhart himself.
The only other business card was a legitimate business, TIGG Conglomerate, which appeared to be based out of Costa Rica. I turned it over and back again, but there were no other details printed. It looked fairly old, as evidenced by the fact there was no website listed. Just a name: R. Tigg.
With a frown I decided it must be another one of Devlin’s clients. Ramona. Rebecca. Rita. The possibilities were freaking endless.
“You were different from all the others, and I had gone through plenty. Beautiful women. Successful women. Powerful women. Women who had it all. Me included.”
I scowled as I placed everything back in the drawer next to a box for an expensive watch, which reminded me of all the handsome male employees back at The Harvey. I opened it, where the stylish timepiece still lay nestled inside. I withdrew it and studied the black face with one diamond at the twelve o’clock position. The hands had stopped at 9:42.
I flipped it over to read the inscription on the back. For dedication of service.
I snorted to myself. I just bet.
There was nothing specific on Suzanne anywhere in those drawers, certainly nothing that would point to what Overture represented.
I was even more confused when I left that townhome. All I had to show for my trouble was an armful of clothes that I knew would look great on me, but I wasn’t especially excited to wear.
And none of which were appropriate to wear to some big birthday bash, which I fully planned to use as my excuse not to go.
I was still down in the mouth when I entered our hotel room. Caz sprawled across the bed, eating expensive snacks from the minibar as he watched a movie. He wore only his jeans, and even I couldn’t deny how sexy he looked as he lay there. It soured my mood even more.
“What are you doing, Caz?”
“Relaxing before all hell breaks loose,” he grinned with a mouthful of food. “I’ve got the bed all nice and broken in. Join me, won’t you?” He patted the covers next to him.
“No, thanks,” I mumbled as I hung my new clothes in the closet.
“Such a mood. Didn’t find out what you wanted, I guess.”
I sighed as I grabbed one of the bottles of booze from the fridge. “She ran out of that apartment so fast I think she left skid marks.”
He chuckled. “It took me six weeks to get her into bed. You really think you’re going to unlock all her secrets in one night?”
I flopped on the bed next to him. “What was I thinking?” I mumbled.
He curled his body around me. “Hey, listen. It’s still early, Vegas time. Let’s go downstairs and take some of that Everhart money.”
“I’m not in the mood to play any games,” I told him.
He ran his hand along my stomach. “So what are you in the mood for, pussycat?”
I glared at him. “Really?”
He leaned closer. “Camera’s off. No one will ever know. What happens in Vegas…,” he started but I lifted away.
“Finish that sentence and I’ll cut you.”
He chuckled as he pulled me back down. “Okay, okay. Fine. I was just thinking that if we could find Suzanne’s newest boy toy, maybe we could get some information. But if you don’t wanna…,” he shrugged as he made himself cozy on his side of the bed.
“I told you. I don’t want to play any games.”
His eyes met mine. “You can’t win if you don’t play, baby. Not just a rule for Vegas.”
Twenty minutes later, we were walking the casino floor. “And exactly how are we going to spot her newest victim?” I asked him as we navigated the dizzying maze between all the slot machines.
“That’s the easy part. Look for the handsomest guy with the most expensive watch. Likely he’ll be in a position that demands he use a little charm to make his money. A dealer. A bartender. Someone who has to hustle for tips, so he’s perpetually hungry.” He pointed at beautiful young man standing behind a bar in the party pit, mixing a cocktail to sexy rock music while dancing girls writhed on the tables behind him. “Bingo.”
His hair was dark and his eyes were blue. He stood tall and lanky, with a sexy smirk I already knew was Suzanne’s weakness every bit as much as mine. His beard was trimmed meticulously around his jawline, which made his whiter than white smile even brighter. The dark lashes around his eyes made them that much bluer. Everything about him was made to catch the eye.
Caz turned to me, inspecting my top. Deftly he reached over to unbutton it a couple more buttons, revealing my satiny bra underneath. “What are you doing?!” I hissed under my breath, instantly trying to cover myself.
He pulled my hands down. “Baiting the hook. Go get ‘im. T
iger,” he added with a smirk of his own as he pushed me towards the bar. I probably would have run the other direction had the bartender not turned into my panicked gaze. He smiled wide as he shamelessly inspected the cleavage I now had on display.
I cleared my throat and squared my shoulders as I approached, taking my place at one of the empty seats. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said, with a devastatingly sexy British accent. “What can I get for you?”
I mustered all my bravado as I leaned across the bar. “How about a Screaming Orgasm?”
He chuckled as he leaned likewise on the bar. “That sounds like fun. I’m a little busy at the moment, but I get off in about an hour.”
I pulled a hundred dollar bill from my wallet and slid it across the bar. “In that case, how about you keep the champagne flowing until then?” I glanced at his nametag. “Rhys.”
“A lady with taste,” he remarked as he reached for a flute. “I like it. So what brings you to Sin City, beautiful?”
“Business,” I shrugged as he poured my glass of bubbly. “All work and no play,” I lamented as I took a sip. “If only I could find someone to play with.”
He chuckled again. “A beautiful girl like you? I bet there are scores of men just waiting in line.”
“Aren’t you sweet?” I murmured as coyly as I could. “You know how it is. Business takes up so much of my life that I don’t really have time to date.” I offered a small pout, which made him grin.
Again he leaned across the bar. “Shame, that.” He inspected the girls with an unapologetic leer.
“Isn’t it?” I commented back. “Why do you think I need a screaming orgasm?”
He laughed. “Touché.” He studied me for a moment. “So what’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Coralie,” I answered.
“Coralie,” he repeated. “Never heard that name before.”
“It’s French,” I told him with a smirk of my own.
“Oui, oui,” he murmured as he topped off my glass. “Are you staying in the hotel, Coralie?”
I nodded. “The Prelude suite.”
His eyebrow arched. “Fancy.”
“It’s not too bad,” I shrugged. “I was kind of hoping for something a little more… impressive. Which suite would you recommend, Rhys?”
“I’m just the bartender,” he dismissed with a shrug of his own, but one that invited me to challenge the assertion.
“Really?” I asked as my fingers danced upon the face of his expensive watch, one I knew for certain cost five figures. “Your customers must really take care of you, then.”
His blue eyes pierced mine. “I can’t complain.”
I pulled my business card from my wallet before I slid it across the bar. “If you ever do feel the need to complain, I have an awfully sympathetic ear. And a whole lot of money.” I kept our gazes locked as I emptied my glass, then I scooted off the stool.
As I turned away, he called out, “What about your screaming orgasm?”
I turned back with a smile. “Rain check,” I offered. “If you can find me.”
My legs were still shaking when I caught up to Caz at one of the blackjack tables, where he likewise tried to charm a dealer with a pricy watch. “How’d it go?” he asked as I took my seat beside him.
“I baited the hook,” I grinned.
“That’s my girl,” he praised before he reached over to kiss my cheek. He lingered just a bit, which gave us both pause. “How long do we have before your little fishy jumps in the boat?”
I glanced at the dealer. “What’s the time?” I asked him, forcing him to look at his watch.
“Ten after ten,” he answered.
“About fifty minutes,” I told Caz. “Give or take the time it’ll take him to get upstairs.”
“So confident,” Caz praised with that smirk of his. “Did I do that? I feel like I did that.”
I glared at him. “Laugh now, Mr. Bixby. But this is your area of expertise, not mine. You’re doing this with me.”
He laughed. “I thought you would never ask.” He shoved his chips towards the dealer. “Color up.”
We got back to the suite with about fifteen minutes to spare. Caz ordered room service, including another bottle of champagne. We both freshened up in the bathroom as we waited, taking turns with brushing our teeth. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not having sex with him,” I said.
“Why not?” Caz asked.
I leaned forward and spit into the sink. “Because I don’t want to,” I answered, like he should have known.
“Why not?” he asked again, as if he didn’t. He spit as well. “He’s a good looking guy. From all the gifts Suzanne has bestowed, I’m guessing he’s pretty good in bed. Where’s the downside?”
I turned to face him. “He’s not Dev.”
Caz likewise turned to face me. “Still under your skin, huh, pussycat?”
“I know it doesn’t make any sense, Caz. But I still love him.”
“What’s love got to do with it?” he shot back. “I fuck people I don’t love all the time. It’s pretty rad, actually.”
I scowled at him. “Be serious.”
“I am serious, CC. You fall in love, you risk your heart. I’d rather risk a good chafing.” I sighed as I tried to walk around him but he pulled me back to face him. “What’s love ever done for you?”
He had me there, I supposed. “Haven’t you ever been in love, Caz?”
His thumb brushed my wrist. “Who says I’m not now?”
I yanked my hand away. “That’s not funny.” I stomped into the sitting room. Caz sauntered casually behind. I grabbed yet another tiny bottle of booze from the minibar. I knew it wouldn’t be enough. “God, I wish I could have brought my weed,” I grumbled. For my pity parties, intoxicants were my favorite favors. I knew I was just one overindulgence away from a 12-step program, but I didn’t care. I needed to numb myself. I was so tired of feeling bad I was ready to do anything to feel good. The way I figured it, pot was safer than anything else to do that. Including the alcohol that had already started to slow down my brain.
He sighed as he tossed the towel from his shoulder back into the bathroom. “I can take care of that, at least.” He turned for the door. “Be back in about twenty. Feel free to start without me.”
“You can’t leave,” I said with a start, unwilling to face off alone in a hotel room with a stranger who expected sex.
“Just make him work for it. Guys love a challenge.” He stopped at the door. “I’m coming back, CC. Keep him talking. That’s all you really want from him anyway.”
“Caz,” I started, but he had already slammed out the door. I was more confused than ever. Had I really thought we could unlock all of Devlin’s secrets just by coming to this crazy town where it all began?
At this rate I was going to end up in the very same trap both Devlin and Caz found themselves in.
The champagne arrived just a hair before eleven, and the handsome man who brought it eyed me like a steak as he uncorked the bottle for me. I practically shoved a twenty dollar bill into his hand and shoved him out the door before he could make this night any more complicated. After he was gone, I guzzled the booze straight from the bottle. With each passing minute, I was even more of a nervous wreck.
I turned to see what time it was on the bedside clock, before I remembered that Caz had unplugged it and shoved it into a drawer. Instead, I pulled my phone from my purse, where I realized that Oliver had tried to call me at least three times, no doubt to yell at me for spooking Darcy.
I couldn’t worry about that now. Instead I paced the room as I waited for the inevitable knock at the door, which finally came at ten after. My hands shook as I reached for the handle and I swung open the door.
Instead of a tall, lanky Brit with crystal blue eyes and a beard, it was a tall, imposing Irishman with blazing green eyes.
“Devlin,” I breathed.
He advanced towards me, backing me into the room, where he took the door and slammed it shut behi
nd us.
“Who else?” he asked before he pulled me into his arms and crushed his lips on mine.
CHAPTER NINE
I could barely catch my breath before Dev picked me up into his arms and carried me towards the bed. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry. We’re past the question and answer part of our evening,” he growled before he deposited me on the bed. My eyes widened as he tore open his shirt and wrenched it from his spectacular body.
He landed on me with another devastating kiss. I struggled meekly beneath him, so he raised my hands over my head and secured them together with one of his own. He stared down at my exposed cleavage like a starving man looks at the food on another person’s plate. “Fuck, Coralie,” he moaned before he kissed me again with a hunger I knew was born deep in his soul.
It was a hunger I knew all too well.
The minute his mouth dragged from my lips to my sensitive ear, I knew I was in trouble. “Dev, please.”
“Please what?” he repeated against my skin. “Please kiss you? Please touch you? Please fuck you?” he added as his hands slid down my body.
I shook my head. “Please stop.”
His eyes met mine. “Why?”
A tear rolled down the corner of my eye. “Because I can’t fight you. It’s not fair.”
“Fair?” he repeated as he cupped my face with one hand. “Nothing about life without you is fair, Coralie.”
The intensity of his voice coupled with that look in his eyes silenced me. I wanted so badly to believe him. “Dev.”
When he kissed me again, I didn’t fight him. I couldn’t. He was everything I had wanted. Nothing had changed that, even his affair with Suzanne. And I hated myself for it. I hated myself for the way my body arched towards him. I hated the way I ached deep within, unable to be fully satisfied unless he was buried inside me.
And I hated him for making me this way, so blindly in love with him that I was ready to throw caution to the wind and make love to him right there in Suzanne’s hotel despite it all.
There was no denying how my body warmed to his touch. My mouth opened to his kiss. And when I felt him reach for me, I knew that I could never want anything, or anyone, more. I arched my back towards him until his mouth finally trailed across my delicate skin and latched onto the sensitive peak through the satiny material. I couldn’t help but cry out.
Masters Forever (Masters #3) Page 10
