Page 3 of Shades of Mercy
Mercy smiled at the woman, but she responded with a frigid glare. It was clear there were some territorial boundaries that Mercy was being made aware of.
“Buy me a drink, handsome,” the blonde said to the man.
He seemed a bit agitated, but his smile didn’t slip. “Sure.” he said. Then, he pulled his arm from the blonde’s grasp and bent close to Mercy’s ear. “Come and find me later. I’ll make it worth your while, beautiful.”
Mercy had to bite her tongue to staunch the flow of words that threatened to spill forth.
As the couple walked away, Mercy positioned herself so that she could see every angle of the room. The décor featured a striking black and silver palette with opulent flooring—more suited for a mansion than an old warehouse converted into a club. An army of servers, clad in gowns likely pricier than a month’s rent, catered to the attendees' needs, ensuring they were refreshed and happy.
She navigated through the crowd, maintaining a low profile, and found a spot near a wall adorned with paintings. From there, she pressed a button on her purse and started taking pictures, aiming to capture as many party-goers as possible without raising suspicion.
She heard a hushed gasp wash over the crowd. When heads turned, she scanned the room to see what she was missing. A man emerged from a room and gained everybody’s attention. They applauded him as if her were a star.
Mercy recognized Cross. He was much better looking than his surveillancepicturesgave him credit for. She could see how that would play in his favor. He looked regal in a tailored suit with his sleeves rolled up, showing black ink visible on both arms. His hair was as black as his suit and long enough to touch his collar, but smoothed back in a slick style. His beard was neat and well-trimmed. She could see why he attracted attention, not just for his looks, but he had enough confidence to share with everyone in the room.
And he loved the spotlight, made apparent by his comfort.
As Cross moved further into the room, the crowd instinctively divided, with two towering bodyguards flanking him on either side.
Mercy took partial cover behind a group of men and captured photos.
As Cross passed in front of her, their gazes met. His eyes were nearly as dark as his hair. He walked to a door marked “Private” and he and his bodyguards entered.
Mercy couldn’t help but feel like she’d just met the devil in person.
Instinct warned her that she needed to leave.
She’d stepped into the vestibule when a beefy hand grasped her elbow. She looked up, seeing one of Cross’s bodyguards towering over her.
“Mr. Cross would like to speak to you.”
“I-I was just leaving.” She had a feeling that denying Cross didn’t happen often.
“He has requested your presence.” The bodyguard didn’t seem to care what she thought.
Realizing that making a scene might not be in her best interest, she followed the bodyguard into a door off the vestibule, which he had accessed with a keycard. She could barely contain the shaking in her knees as the door closed behind her, and she noticed there was no doorknob.
She followed him up a staircase.
While the front of the club belonged in a magazine, the back area wasn’t nearly as glamorous. The walls were soundproof, and it felt like a completely different place. The bodyguard led her down a darkened hallway, passed a room where two men stood watching a wall of monitors.
At the end of the hallway, she was shown into a spacious office. Behind the massive black desk sat Cross, his undivided attention pinned on a wall of monitors displaying the club. She started to speak but thought better of interrupting him. Instead, she took in the black leather couch, expensive paintings, and a lavish area rug.
What drew her attention most was the one-way mirror that overlooked the main room of the club. She stepped over to look down. Cross had a god’s view of everything.
“What do you think?” He had come to stand beside her.
“The club is amazing.” She tried hiding her discomfort.
“It’s a lot of work, but worth it when you see how much fun everyone is having. Did you have a good evening?”
“I did, thank you.” Why did it feel like a trick question?
He pressed a button on the wall, and a blind slowly lowered over the window. “You’re new,” he said.
“Yes. This is my first time.”
He gave a slight nod. “I make it my effort to know all the girls.”
