Page 94 of Cocky Prince
I make my way to the elevator bank before I change my mind—only I’m not alone.
The man in the dark suit standing in front of the elevator doors looks over. And it’s William.
Dammit.
“Hey, beautiful!” He glances past me. “Where’s Adam—the guy you left with?” he says, because he clearly hasn’t figured out who I am. William thinks I’m one of the pinup girls here tonight. He doesn’t realize Adam and I know each other, or that William knows me, for that matter.
“Oh, I decided to stay.” I use a girlish voice I hope disguises my normal one, and it sounds ridiculous. Not that it puts off William.
“Tell me he didn’t leave you?”
“Um…sort of?”
William slides his arm around my shoulders. “That idiot. Allow me to fix this. I was just heading up to an exclusive party in one of the suites. Be my guest. There will be champagne and appetizers, and plenty of stimulating conversation. I promise.” He grins widely, his gaze focused in the direction of my cleavage.
William wouldn’t be talking to me and checking out my boobs if he recognized me. Okay, maybe he’d be checking out my boobs, but he for sure hasn’t recognized me. This could work. William is a Blue Star and he wants to bring me to a party in one of the suites. Which is exactly where I want to be. And if that suite is a part of Bliss? Even better.
“I’d love to.”
* * *
The party Williamtakes me to is, in fact, at the Bliss location. And I am blown away. This is nothing like the penthouse suites on the other side of the hotel floor. The suite we enter is huge, just as the plans from the facility manager’s office indicated, and so elaborate and beautiful I’m afraid to touch anything. Or spill my champagne, which is Dom Pérignon, of course.
Sensual music plays through invisible speakers, and my heels press into plush white area rugs so soft that I sink when I walk. The sound of glasses clinking at the bar and the chatter of men fill my senses—and cause the air to crackle with an energy that leaves stinging goose bumps along my arms. It’s caged and aggressive, and if I weren’t here for a good reason, I’d hightail it out. But I’m here because of Blackwell and the Blue Stars, and because my instincts tell me what they’re doing inside this casino is wrong.
I take in a shallow breath and spot Adam in a corner of the room talking to a huge guy who’s got to be some kind of professional athlete. Adam hasn’t seen me, or he’d be on his way over, riding my ass to leave. The suite is crowded, and if I don’t want him catching me before I’ve had a chance to look around, I had better move to another room.
“How about a tour?” I say to William.
“Whatever the lady wishes.” He gestures to a room on our right and I enter it, happy to be someplace Adam can’t see me, though I’m not sure this room is any better.
One by one, William shows me each of the bedrooms and shares his knowledge of drugs that reduce sexual inhibition, while I attempt to appear casually interested. William also asks if I want to take one of the rooms for a test drive, but that’s beside the point. Adam might kill me when he finds out I stayed after I said I would leave Blue. But not beforeIkillhim.
Adam is involved in Bliss, which I knew, but this suite isn’t your typical eccentric hotel experience. All of the rooms are elaborate and sexual in nature, with dance poles and crazy bathrooms designed for Roman orgies, but the room that really stands out is the one with the sex dungeon. I know for a fact that the casino doesn’t own a license for sex-oriented business. We had to make sure the burlesque dancers didn’t remove pertinent pieces of clothing during tonight’s show for that reason.
Mira and Tyler called the suite they’d found several months ago the “fifty shades suite,” and they weren’t kidding. Only, I’m pretty sure that whatever Mira and Tyler came across, it was nothing compared to Bliss. Mira described the other suite as large, with custom cabinets filled with sex toys—not an entire room devoted to chaining someone up. What the hell?
William and I return to the living area, and I feel it. That prickle of awareness that centers in my shoulders and spreads down my chest, sending heat to my lower belly—the sense I get when Adam is near.
I scan the room and find him staring at me. The athlete is still with him, but so are Eve and Blackwell. And Blackwell doesn’t look happy. In fact, he looks like he always does around me. Angry. Annoyed.
Does Blackwell recognize me?
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Adam
Gabe greetsme with a handshake after Paul walks away. “So this is Bliss?” he says, and looks around.
“Where all your dreams come true,” I respond dryly.
Gabe eyes the other men, then does a leisurely sweep of the women and the living space. He raises an eyebrow. “Excellent taste.”
“Indeed. I’ll show you the rooms, but first, I’d like to introduce you to Joseph Blackwell, the CEO. He just walked in and he doesn’t typically attend casino events, preferring to remain in the background. I’d like to catch him before he leaves.”
Gabe grabs a glass of champagne off a passing server, one hand tucked in his slacks, his demeanor casual and collected. He’d make a perfect fit for Bliss.
Blackwell catches sight of us as we approach, his gaze ever calculating.
