Page 64 of Where Wild Hearts Dance
She straightens and I turn my head this way and that, taking in all the details while she changes into a short pinafore dress over a chiffon T-shirt and Mary Janes.
My lips curls. “I only have my sneakers.”
“You can borrow these,” she says, then she reaches into her closet and pulls out a pair of soft brown leather thigh-high boots.
I almost choke.
She senses my trepidation. “You won’t look like a hooker. Trust me. These are Cristian Dior. Got them at a super high-end flea. Researched them and they sold full price for nine hundred dollars.”
I’m in awe as I take them from her.
“You’re a seven, right?”
I nod, bend over and slip my feet into the boots then unfold as I zip them up all the way to my mid-thighs.
Well, Christ on a cracker.
“Come on, a Lyft’s on its way. We should get going.”
I quickly text Allegra to say I’m hanging out with a friend from dance class, so she doesn’t worry that I’m not home for dinner, take one last look at myself in the mirror, then follow Paige out the door.
“What is this place?” I crane my neck to look up at the building. There’s no sign on the walls to tell us what we’re lining up to get into.
“It’s called Arena. It’s kind of exclusive—not many people know about it. Only the ones who matter if you know what I mean?”
“And we matter?” I raise a skeptical eyebrow.
She returns a wink. “We do to my friend who works behind the bar.”
“Good answer.” I grin and pan my gaze along the people in front. I count three Fendis, a real mink andsome exceedingly expensive looking shoes. There’s a lot of money in this line.
We reach the front and the guy at the door appraises us. His gaze flicks to me and hovers, making me look back over my shoulder to see the more interesting person behind me. There’s no one.
“It’s Paige Thorp. I’m a friend of Cassian’s.”
The guy’s focus slides down my body then he looks at the list in his hand.
“You can go right on in, Miss Thorp, and Miss…”
His gaze flicks back to me.
“Castellano,” I reply.
“Miss Castellano.” My name rolls approvingly off his tongue and I flush. I don’t have time to become too flustered though because Paige grabs my hand and pulls me through the ropes into the club.
We head straight for the bar and Paige introduces me to Cassian who clearly only has eyes for Paige because he barely registers my existence. Then, furnished with brand new margaritas we find a booth near the dance floor.
“So, you and Cassian…”
Paige takes a sip of her drink, then throws her head back and laughs.
“Me and Cassian… we’re not a thing, although he’s tried his luck a few times.” She leans across the table and points her finger discreetly across the dancefloor to another set of booths. “Buthim… Nowhe’sa different story.”
I slowly turn my gaze to follow her finger and the scene I arrive at turns me cold. She’s pointing to a table filled with suits. Sharp, blackItaliansuits, complete with expensive watches, leather brogues and—just guessing here—gunmetal beneath their jackets.
“Looks like a scene from Goodfellas, doesn’t it?” she giggles.
“Yeah,” I reply, my tone flat.
