Page 41 of Burn for Me

As we pass a long table covered in treats and pretzels, Sam picks up a small velvet cake and holds it up in front of me. I look up at him silently, pleading for him not to make me eat it.

The waiter doesn’t stop, so Sam gives me a glance that calms most of the turmoil in my stomach. With an internal groan, I shove the small cake into my mouth, ignoring the heaviness of my eyelids and the numbness in my limbs as we follow the waiter up a large flight of stairs.

While chewing on the rough texture of sandpaper, I take a moment to look around. People are bumping and jumping in front of a large stage. A wall lined with glass mirrors stands behind a bar that stretches across from the long buffet we had passed.

"Are they calling for them?" The voice of a big bald man wearing dark glasses, standing with his arms crossed, pulls me back to reality as we stop moving.

My hazy mind wants to laugh because the man's voice is much lighter than expected. It isn’t as deep and raspy as I would imagined; instead, it’s a soothing and quiet rumble—almost like he’s singing.

Whatever the response is, it’s enough to lead us through an open velvet rope to a much classier setup.

A large glass window separates the upstairs area from the downstairs view, but it's tinted, creating a more intimate, dusky glow in the room. A plush white carpet, pristine and without a stain in sight, stretches across the floor, lightening the darker interior. Men dressed in various styles—from suits to plain jeans and white T-shirts—line the space. I find myself nearly buryingmy face in Sam's side due to the uncomfortable feeling I get from noticing that there isn’t a single woman in sight.

A man with olive skin approaches, tilting his head slightly, while another man with a lighter complexion remains seated, studying us over the brim of his glass.

I know them.I recognized them the instant they stepped into our elevator at the hotel.

“Ah, the Moranas and Astors. I apologize for interrupting your evening. I just wanted to look at the faces that will soon be hidden,” the man with olive skin says casually. It’s a good thing Sam’s fingers flex into my side because, with my current mindset, I'm half-tempted to go downstairs, grab the candle that has been taunting me, and throw it at the man’s feet.

I can’t blow my cover, though. They have no clue who I am, so if I remain calm and oblivious, everything will be fine.

Jonathan steps beside us, naturally brushing his hand against Delilah’s before extending it for the man to shake.

“Shut it, Rurik. Stop acting so damn formal. We’re all the same here,” the other man says, raising his glass. “Although, I must say I enjoy meeting people better when there’s a mask involved. There’s something thrilling about not knowing who’s behind it.”

Jonathan steps back beside Delilah as soon as his hand is released.

“Casey Gallardo. My uptight friend here is…” the man continues, waving his glass.

“Rurik Bravetti.” the other man interjects.

I focus on Sam, who nods but doesn't attempt to introduce himself.

“Thank you for your hospitality. This is a beautiful arrangement,” I say, speaking for us. When the words come out slurred, I clear my throat and decide against trusting my hand-eye coordination for a handshake, so I simply nod.

Rurik’s eyes narrow in my direction as his gaze lazily scans my form. My nerves get the best of me, and I worry if he’s doing what Sam does—looking for all my secrets. Fortunately, it’s been years since I’ve been home, and there’s no way for him to find me or my past. Even if he decided to call one of his groupies to do some digging, Sam and Moe took care of everything.

“Damn, I don’t even get a compliment on the hotel.” Casey laughs, and my stomach turns.

“Your father’s hotel,” Rurik interjects.

Casey scoffs but doesn't acknowledge the comment, “I must say, I'm disappointed we haven't gotten a show yet.”

In an instant, I'm jerked behind Sam's body all too fast for my already spinning head to process. Jonathan is stepping beside Sam, and Delilah is pulled behind him.

Tonight is not going well. They should act casually and gather any information they can, but no, they decide to behave just like these men would… Wait, it works, then.

I tilt my head into Sam's back, begging myself to stay steady and do as I’msupposedto.

Stay quiet. Let men talk, but always listen. Are you paying attention?My mom's voice creeps into my thoughts, and I gag, quickly throwing my hand over my mouth.

“Relax boys. It's only a joke.” Casey laughs.

“Mywifeis tired. As much as I'veenjoyedthis meeting, I'd prefer to get her to bed.” Sam's voice rumbles through his back against my head, and I laugh at how serious he sounds when he says,‘wife.’

“Understandable. Please forgive my colleagues' behavior. He’s had one too many drinks tonight. Maybe you two can join me at the gambling table during the Ball and discuss business. My father is always looking to expand. If I did my research correctly, the Moranas specialize in cafes, and Astors love their private clubs, correct?”

“Money.” Sam's words are cryptic.

---