Page 46 of Rake

“No,” she says, handing her coat and my scarf to the coat check girl. She drops some money in the tip jar. I do the same.

“Figures,” I say. “You want to cause trouble without even checking the place out?”

She just smiles and says, “Nice suit.”

God, she’s making me crazy already. How am I going to make it through this night? The suit’s bespoke, a dark charcoal that I’ve paired with a white shirt and a blue and silver striped tie. Very classic. Normally I like to go a little off the beaten path to annoy my father, but I’m not going to push my luck tonight. Not in that way, anyhow.

We walk to the event space where we’re hosting the gala. It’s a grand ballroom, too ornate for my taste, with a hideous pastel mural of a Greek pastoral scene painted across the ceiling. Heavy gilt moulding creates an absurd transition between the pseudo wanna-be-art-museum ceiling and the beige walls. My father should have let my mother choose the décor. Everything about his taste screams new money. It’s embarrassing. My mother has many faults, but she has an eye for style my father never will. Tonight the room has been configured for mingling, small cocktail tables spaced carefully throughout.

It’s a little past eight now, and all the guests should be here. Don’t want to keep the investors out too late on a school night, after all, but we don’t want to eat up their weekend time either.

Once we’re inside the opulent ballroom, I walk Sasha over to my father. At first I wonder if she’ll be nervous, then remember that her own father just hurled a beer can at her.

He looks at her appreciatively.

“You clean up well, Miss Saunders. I’d like to introduce you to some of my investors later. I hear your brother is heading to college and some of these folks have connections out at Stanford. I hear young Benjamin is interested in heading out west.”

“Sounds lovely,” she says. Her fingertips go white, but my father wouldn’t notice something like that.

I take her hand and wrap it around my forearm. “I’m going to show Sasha around. Give her a tour of the facility.”

“What a wonderful idea, son. Make sure you say hello to the staff for me.” He gives her a stiff smile. She’s not what he expected, and he’s thrown off. It’s embarrassing how easily that happens.

I take Sasha around to the various gaming tables. We watch people play for a bit, but neither of us find it very interesting. I find the slot parlor loud and garish, and rather depressing as zombified people pump coins in and pull the arm, hoping for a payout.

Maybe the problem is that I know the odds too well.

Not as well as my brother Callan does, apparently.

I suppose if people want to waste money, though, they might as well waste it here.

Some of the employees do a double take when they see Sasha, though whether it’s from who she’s with or because of how she looks is hard to say.

“Drink?” I ask.

“Sure.”

I don’t bother asking what she wants. It’s chauvinistic, but I’m feeling proprietary about Sasha. I lean across the bar. The bartender is a stunning woman named Jamilah. Normally I never miss an opportunity to flirt with her, but not tonight.

“Hi, Jamilah,” I say. “Can I have a whisky, neat, and a glass of the Chateau Lafite for the lady?” It’s a power move—that’s our most expensive wine and Jamilah will know it.

“Of course, sir,” she says. She hands the wine to me rather than Sasha. She’s no fool. I pass the wine to Sasha and leave Jamilah a fifty-dollar bill for her services after I take my whisky. I slide my arm down Sasha’s back again, resting it closer to the curve of her ass this time. She blushes, and it’s a good reminder that her bravado is mostly bluster.

“See? Our staff is well-cared for,” I say, letting my hand move slightly lower.

“I’m sure,” she says. “If that’s the case, you have nothing to worry about, do you?” She tosses a saucy look over her shoulder and takes a sip of the wine.

Bluster, sure, but sexy as hell.

We eventually head back to the gala, though I’m not excited about having to share her with the disgusting old men who ogle her the second she walks through the door. My sister Bridget is here, though, and floats up to me.

“Hi!” she says, standing on her toes to kiss me on the cheek. She still can’t reach, so I lean down. “No one else is here! Not even Catriona! And she never misses a party.”

True, but she knew this one was full of rich old men. Catriona’s interested in rich young men. She’s very strategic with her prowling.

She smiles broadly and holds her hand out to Sasha. “Oh my goodness, hi! I’m Finn’s sister Bridget.”

I don’t usually bring women with me to events. I bed a lot of women, but I certainly don’t introduce them to the family.

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