Page 25 of Twisted Lies
I watched the crazy scene progress. Overflowing into the street, New York’s elite were sauntering into the invite-only, fifty-grand-per-plate dinner that was being hosted by Mitch in honor of his newest pet project—mayoral hopeful Bigsby Calhoune.
Adjusting my bow tie, I strode confidently by the frenzied mess of paparazzi, who ignored me in favor of the star-studded elite, preening before the flashing cameras. I hated the press. Unlike most men with my wealth and power who gravitated toward the ego-stroking media, I avoided them like the plague, living my life in anonymity.
I waited impatiently while a white-gloved security staffer politely scanned my body with a handheld metal detector. Entering through the huge front doors, I immediately moved through the room—a cavernous, modern space with large columns and slab granite. The private, formal political party was in full swing as men in tuxedos escorted their diamond-encrusted ladies around the room like arm candy.
Blending smoothly into a throng of foreign dignitaries, businessmen, and socialites, I headed for the bar, ordered a drink, and absorbed the high-octane mixture of new oil money and old European wealth before the bartender pushed a glass of scotch between my fingers. The cigar-smoking men talked business as their beautiful flavors of the month looked on with blank faces, casually taking a glass of champagne or a canapé from the passing waiters.
Glittering, sleek women with strikingly sculpted faces smiled provocatively at me while circling around me in hopes of snagging husband number two or three. My eyes roamed over them with disinterest. They looked like most women I’d fucked over the years during my transition from crime lord to legitimate business mogul. Along with surgically enhanced breasts provided by top plastic surgeons, they all had hard bodies courtesy of hours in the gym with their personal trainers.
I was bored with the selection.
Sipping my scotch, I ignored them. Until now, it hadn’t occurred to me that I hadn’t fucked anyone who looked remotely like a real woman in a while. Even with a string of women and business successes over the years, I found I actually missed one thing from my days as the ruthless leader of the largest crime empire in New York—a woman with soft curves, pretty, girl-next-door looks, and a sassy, take-no-shit personality. Maybe it was time for a change, but finding a woman who could satisfy my distinct and dark sexual tastes would be nearly impossible.
My thoughts were interrupted by Mitch’s loud, animated introduction of the well-matched, beautiful couple—Cate Bellisario and Bigsby Calhoune—to a guest. Bored, I watched Bigsby shake the guest’s hand with an exaggerated flourish.
My body tensed.
My mind flared with recognition at the unmistakable glint of diamonds and rubies on Bigsby’s middle finger.
Pushing away from the bar with adrenaline coursing through my veins, I walked leisurely through the crowd and toward the trio. The guests shifted, cutting off my view of Mitch and the couple, but I easily found them again and confidently strode up to them.
“Core.” Mitch was all smiles as he shook my hand. “I’m glad you could make it tonight.”
Bigsby’s eyes narrowed on my all-seeing-eye neck tattoo. As Bigsby frowned, his gaze darted to Mitch. He clearly did not approve of my presence at his dinner event.
My expression darkened. “Is there a problem?”
Mitch shot Bigsby an irritated glare before laughing loudly. He clapped me on the back. “Apologies, Core.” He gave Bigsby an admonishing stare. “Bigsby is new to the intricacies and important players of our circle, so please excuse his ignorance. I’m still trying to get him up to speed.”
Bigsby’s body tightened as he ran his hand over his salt-and-pepper hair with agitation.
Mitch looked pointedly at the couple. “This is Core McKay—as in McKay Corporation. He’s one of my biggest clients.”
Cate’s mask of neutrality slipped as her eyes widened. “Well, this night is full of surprises. I get the privilege of putting a face to the renowned name.” She smiled.“Congrats on your recent billion-dollar merger.”
I inclined my head but remained silent.
Mitch looked at me eagerly. “This is Cate Bellisario.”
Cate nodded politely as I swept my gaze over her. From her formfitting designer dress to her perfectly coiffed hair and artfully applied makeup, she was the very image of New York socialite success. I smirked. I knew her perfection was a facade for the seedy dark side she kept hidden from her fiancé. On several occasions, the smoldering nymph had trolled my sex club, begging Ram to top her. The duality of her flawless persona amused me.
Bigsby cleared his throat. “I’m Bigsby Calhoune.” He smiled as he offered his hand to me before shaking it enthusiastically. “I apologize. I thought I knew most of Mitch’s friends.”
My face was a cold mask, barely hiding my disdain. “Leave the thinking to Mitch and your fiancée. You’re way out of your depth, Mr. Calhoune.” I stepped back, sipping my scotch.
Bigsby shifted uncomfortably before looking to Mitch for assistance, but none came. I knew Mitch expected Bigsby to grovel and make amends for his slight against me.
Bigsby’s smile was forced as he said, “Cate says I’m like a bull in a china shop at these events. Apologies, Mr. McKay.”
I tilted my head. “You’re from Brooklyn,” I stated matter-of-factly.
Bigsby looked visibly startled. “Uh…yes. How did you know?”
I stared at him shrewdly. “You’re trying too hard to hide the accent.” Effectively dismissing him, I turned to Mitch. “You pulled out the big guns tonight. You must think he’s a winner.”
Mitch beamed at Bigsby. “You’re damn right. If I have anything to do with it, Bigsby will be New York’s next mayor.”
“I wouldn’t start writing acceptance speeches. I know his opponent personally. He’s thorough and ruthless.” I narrowed my eyes on Bigsby. “And his specialty is unearthing his opponent’s skeletons.”
