Page 12 of The Desert Prince's Jewel
CHAPTER SIX
MATEO
Lorenzo might be what’s officially on my birth certificate as my middle name, however, nosey-ass overthinker is more appropriate as I drive the catering van into the largest estate I’ve ever had the displeasure of working at. It rivals Renversé HotelandCafe Magnifique in terms of size. I’ve been around the filthy rich before, but this is jaw-dropping even for a jaded guy like me. After passing security and winding my way up a snake-like driveway that seems to encompass the entire property, Dimitri’s palace finally comes into view.
I take a deep breath, lingering in the driver’s seat while the rest of the crew unloads. I briefly daydream about heaven on Earth–a motel with a warm bed, take-out, and a hot shower after this is all over.
Wait? Can you daydream at night?I think as I watch my crew getting to work, Dimitri’s servants, I presume, leading the charge.
Guess that doesn’t matter. What matters is the fact that I should already feel rejuvenated and excited, seeing as I get a prize after risking my life for information. But Ranbir’s warning rattles around inside my aching head, and all I feel is a stomach ache from the mocha latte swishing around my otherwise empty stomach and mounting dread.
My target is close. I should get ready for war. But reality seems to have finally sunk in about how insane I am. Like, I even stand a chance of scooping shit out while catering this criminal’s guests. As things stand right now, I’ll be lucky to find the damn dining room before I find anything that may resemble documentation of Dimitri’s illicit dealings!
But I have to stay hopeful—I have to be delusional! If I let my cynical realism sink in, I won’t find the courage to try. I also won’t fail if I don’t try, but I have to keep that version of me locked away in a cage. No negative Nathan energy will stop me tonight, despite every ounce of my being screaming for me to run.
After getting myself together, it doesn’t take long for me to get the crew going. For a person who hates responsibility, I somehow find myself being the leader of every dead-end job I work at. I don’t know if it’s bad luck or my desire for money, probably a bit of both, but I don’t complain tonight, seeing as my gig at Bonnie Appetit went from helping me to pay back debt collectors to getting into one of the most exclusive parties in town.
Once inside, things settle into a normal rhythm. I prepare the central table while the rest of my crewmates attend to their various tasks. Things go off without a hitch, and I feel supernaturally calm, cool, and collected by the time the suspected murderer enters the room.
Suspected murderer is stretching it, seeing as everyone knows Dimitri’s reputation is well earned. So, seeing as the guy can’tsue me or hire a hitman based on my thoughts alone, I call him what he is in my head–a thief and a killer.
I tamp down my disgust for the bastard immediately and plaster on my award-winning fake smile as the silver-haired mobster greets the well-dressed guests. He’s fashionably late to his party as he schmoozes with the crowd. Most are also low-lives adorned with finery, people I should be concerned with and morbidly curious about. However, no one captures my attention likehim.After all, I suspect the guy got my parents killed, and possibly ordered the assassination himself.
“Mateo?” A perky blonde guy named Jaxon or Ashton or something modern like that bumps my shoulder. “S-should I pour wine or pass cheese? I-I-I’m a little overwhelmed here. Hahahaa!”
I blink at him in confusion before noticing he has a wine bottle in one hand and a platter of hors d’oeuvres in another. Knowing he’s nervous, I take the wine and win a bright smile. It takes a little more effort to pour than to pass. He looks too young to stick around here for long, but if he does, he’ll bring some much-needed pep to our team of chain-smokers, insomniacs, and some horrible combination of both.
With that sorted out, I move effortlessly through the crowd, every so often drifting back to Ranbir’s face earlier in the evening, which will surely haunt my dreams. I try to focus on my fake mission, finding some dirt on Dimitri. Or, at the very least, score Bonnie Appetit another invite to give me another chance when my nerves aren’t shot. But all I can think about ishim.
The stern set of his brow, the tick in his jaw, the warmth of his hand… They’re all seared into my mind. But more importantly, I can’t get over his concern. He seemed genuinely afraid for me, a virtual stranger, his enemy. I mean, we’re not exactly enemies in the traditional sense, as in I did something to deserve his contempt. But we’re not friends. And for some reason, I can’tstop my stupid heart from freaking out because he was so concerned over my idiotic scheme.
While lost in the memory of a man I’m supposed to hate, I catch a glimpse of a doppelgänger and freeze. Near Dimitri is…
“Ranbir?” I whisper in shock, almost causing the wine I’m pouring to overfill inside a gaudy woman’s cup.
Crises avoided, I slip away into the crowd before she can grumble about my lack of etiquette or something, when she’s probably married to a mobster.
I blink and rub my eyes as I draw closer, utterly confused by my archenemy yucking it up with the man he warned me to stay away from. Logically, I know Ranbir’s patrolling the hotel grounds right now, not entertaining Dimitri at an upscale dinner party for the wealthy elite of Princedelphia.
Even if my theory that he is stalking me is true, he wouldn’t warn me not to come and show up here so blatantly, where I’d catch him in the act. That would make logical sense. I know this, and yet I can’t take my eyes away.
A tall, bronze-skinned man sips from a flute, now seated at the table with the scumbag as they chatter away like old friends. His gaze, the color of jade, lands on me as I draw near, pretending all I want is to refill their glasses. Jade, not gold. So not Ranbir.
Why is he so familiar?I muse, shuddering from the intensity of the stranger’s stare as I close in.
“Tartarus is booming, Jaideep!” Dimitri begins, not paying me any attention as I eavesdrop and fill their glasses. “I believe we can expand deeper into the city with a second location soon. What do you think?”
I know that place. Cy and I used to club there when his boyfriend was paying the bills. It’s a super ritzy upscale nightclub. Interesting. I do remember seeing strange artwork on the walls. Maybe this night won’t be a bust after all.
“Yesss, but let’s discuss business somewhere more private. For now, we enjoy the party,” Jaideep purrs, his voice melodic yet menacing simultaneously.
My gaze snaps up to his as Jaideep drags a finger down my wrist when I begin filling his glass. When he sneers, definitely not flirting with me, everything clicks into place. I suddenly recognized him from a Bollywood film. I binged it on the streaming service I refuse to unsubscribe from, balled up in the back of my car with my phone near my nose.
Jaideep Singh or something. Mega star. Mega wealthy. Mega asshole villain on screen, and off. And, if the celebrity rumor mill is correct, a mega asshole bigger than even Ranbir. People say he resembles an older version of my teen heartthrob, Viktor, online, but it’s more like I’m staring at his evil twin up close.
Suddenly, a wall of fear stops me in my tracks as I try to step away, afraid of this man. But it’s like my feet are enchanted, fueled by my terror to start hightailing it out of the room. I excuse myself and push past my fear. But I don’t get five steps closer to the servants’ quarters before a smooth hand clamps down on my upper arm with surprising strength.
“Jaideep? What’s wrong? Did you want another type of wine? You can just ask the poor boy,” Dimitri chimes, his voice low and inquisitive.
