It had been three weeks since my return to Manhattan. Lucy and the rest of the girls were a good buffer against Dom. It allowed us to be around each other, minus the unwanted pressure. Dom had been very gentle in the way he wormed himself back into my life. And worming was the right term. Was gentle manipulation the right term, too? I wasn’t oblivious, neither was I expecting anything less. He said he understood my hesitance, but he was not giving up.
I saw it in the way he made sure that Lucy and I had everything we needed in his penthouse, especially with food. He cooked dinner sometimes, and on other nights, he’d stay for a movie.
The other night, I woke up nestled against him after having an erotic dream. In my dream, Dom and I were watching a stalker movie and my hand brushed his erection. His breathing grew labored, and I looked up at him while I curled my wrist around his massive, hard cock. Then I swung my leg around him and straddled his lap, rubbing myself to an orgasm, and that was when I woke up with my pussy throbbing.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped.
His eyes burned right into my soul. And my pussy clenched, feeling the wet heat pulse for the first time in months. It was still spasming while locked in a heated gaze with Dom.
“You’re fine,” he murmured. “Were you dreaming?”
“No,” I lied.
But he smirked and knew I was full of shit. I glanced over to where Lucy was sitting, but she was the one who had fallen asleep.
Dom eyed me for a few more seconds, studying my face before he said, “You missed half an hour of the movie. Want me to rewind?”
I had backed out of my meds a week ago now that I’d found a purpose again in my life, waking up each morning with a mission. I guessed that was why my physical attraction to Dom was unleashed. In a way, I was kind of thankful that a companionship formed first, understanding his need to be a caretaker. He was wired that way, yet he allowed me to operate in my independence.
I was studying for the NCLEX, so I was mostly in the penthouse. We’d determined I would have more clout if I was a licensed nurse. I already had stellar recommendations from my instructors and nurse supervisors.
I glanced away from the tablet. My eyes were tired from reading the same text repeatedly. I wondered if Lucy would like to drop by Jabbin’ Java. Dom had a fully tricked-out coffee station, but I’d been craving one of Renz’s cappuccinos.
And as if I’d manifested her, a knock sounded on my door. “Sloane?”
When Dom proposed I live with his sister, I wasn’t sure how that would pan out. But like myself, Lucy functioned independently. The penthouse was so huge, we rarely bumped into each other.
I pushed back from my chair and opened the door.
Lucy had an irritated look on her face.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
“Is there a reason Margo Winthrop wants you at the Russian masked ball?”
“Margo? I’ve never met her though you already know she was responsible for my…uhm…trip to the Outer Banks. Dom asked me to the gala and I said no.”
She exhaled an annoyed huff and left me standing at the door. “Well, if you don’t go, then I won’t be able to,” she called over her shoulder, or at least that was what I thought she said.
“What?” I ran after her because her tone sounded a lot like her not going was my fault. “Why can’t you go? Isn’t your mother an organizer?”
“She is, but Pop doesn’t want me anywhere around Kirill since he still blames me for Kolya still being in jail. As if.”
Her room was at the opposite end of the penthouse, so it was quite a trek. She stopped right at the staircase, the dividing line between her wing and mine.
“Why don’t you want to go?” she asked.
“It’s not my thing, and I don’t want to cause conflict between Dom and your mother.”
“Are you getting back with my brother?”
My back grew stiff. “That’s hardly your business, and you must have misunderstood my previous relationship with Dom. We had a non-relationship.”
“Look. I’m not rushing you into a relationship with my brother. I love that arrogant ass, but God knows what he represents is a lot to take in. But if you think there’s a chance between you and Dom, you shouldn’t let my mother intimidate you because she’s going to double down if she knows her tactics are working.”
“That’s your mother you’re talking about.” My lips curved in amusement.
“I’m not blind to her faults. In fact, I’m the one who’s calling her out on her shit because my dad is so blind to her manipulation.”
“And Dom?”
“Oh, Dom indulges her, but he’s not blind to the Moretti brand of manipulation either, because it’s in his blood.”
“You’re a Moretti too. How do I know I’m not a pawn between you and your mother?”
Lucy laughed. “I really like you.” She resumed walking toward her room. “But I need you at that gala.”
Her bossy tone reminded me of Dom. I followed her. “Tell me why?”
She left her door open. I knew Lucy worked into the odd hours of the night and early morning. I didn’t think it was healthy, and she frequently looked exhausted. I wondered if that was why Dom checked in on us once in a while.
The first thing that hit me when I entered her room was holy hell, what a mess. The cleaner in me was getting hives. It wasn’t the type of mess that was a byproduct of moldy food or questionable hygiene. It was the type of mess stemming from the disorganization of papers and pens, notebooks and folders.
Pictures on the wall commanded my attention. The type of arrangement you see on TV of a murder board. The four walls were plastered with them.
“What the hell are these?”
Lucy sighed. “My client cases.” Dom’s sister was some kind of fixer, whatever that meant. I figured since she was in DC, it meant burying scandals that might affect people in powerful positions. One picture on the wall was Wade Stephenson. My GSW patient, who apparently was not only Lucy’s friend, but the friend of Elyse Bailey, whose picture was beside the lawyer’s.
“Oh my God, you wrote on the wall?” My skin was definitely feeling itchy.
“They’re erasable ink, although I made the mistake of using a marker on some.” She grinned as if she was pleased with it.
“Are you doing this so Dom sends you back to DC?”
“No, it’s just how I work. Besides, you think my brother cares if I make a mess in one room? He’ll just have someone come repaint it.”
I barely heard her when I stood transfixed, staring at a picture on the wall. The emerald necklace caught my eyes first before the person in the image. And just like that, a painful shard that was embedded deep inside a part of me was pulled out, and the wound started bleeding.
“Is this some kind of joke?” My croaked words barely scraped out of my throat.
“What the—?” Lucy asked. “What are you talking about?”
“This!” I pointed to the woman in the picture. She was in the same grouping of photos as Wade Stephenson and Elyse Bailey.
“Vivienne Tomlin? She’s the wife of the congressman I’m investigating.”
“You’re investigating Congressman Tomlin?”
“It was supposed to be a simple background check to find a scandal that would make him vote against the energy bill.”
“You use blackmail to change votes on a bill?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be naïve. Anyway, it wasn’t for me, it was for my client who wanted the congressman to vote differently. But then Wade contacted me. Elyse Bailey was his former coworker and friend who needed his help.” Lucy threw up her hands helplessly. “This became a sex scandal. I thought you knew. Didn’t you work for the Russians?”
“I mind my own business. Is that why Kirill is pissed at you?”
“He’s blaming me for instigating the whole thing, when really, it was Elyse and Wade who were building a case with the feds against the congressman. But when the Russians killed Wade—”
She cut herself off; her face darkened in anger.
“You became a dog with a bone.”
“This is why I hate the mafia,” Lucy growled. “People who try to do the right thing are silenced. Look, I would have left it alone if it were for power or money because I deal with that all the time, but I couldn’t ignore the sex trafficking of minors. Elyse showed me the evidence…well, part of it.” She exhaled a pained sigh. “Anyway, the congressman’s publicity machine suppressed any link between Elyse and his office. His wife is tired of fixing his fuckups.” Lucy’s eyes bored into me while I was spiraling into a past I’d rather remained buried, but she zeroed in on the pertinent question hanging between us. “But how do you know Vivienne?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.” I turned so I could retreat to my room or maybe go to the kitchen and finish that tub of chocolate ice cream.
“They’ll be there at the gala.”
I paused at the door and pivoted slowly to face her. “What?”
“The Zahkarovs are in a shaky relationship with the congressman. Other Washington heavy hitters will be there but I think the two are sniffing around each other because Grigori has fallen out of the bratva. But he left an important deal on the table that could cost the Zahkarovs billions if Tomlin voted for the energy bill currently being debated in congress.”
“Wouldn’t his appearance at the gala be in poor taste?”
“The thing with Russian organized crime is you don’t know what businesses are theirs with so many layers involved.”
“True.”
“I mean, I didn’t know I was going against the bratva until Wade got killed and my brother informed me Kirill put a contract on my head.”
“What? What happened to… ‘I know this guy’…” Despite my earlier spiral, I marveled at Lucy’s courage, or what her brother might call recklessness.
“Apparently, I’m not that good, as Margo likes to point out,” Lucy scoffed.
“I fear I’ll be waltzing into a trap if I attend the gala. I think Margo knows about my connection to Tomlin and it’s her whole purpose of wanting me there. Why exactly do you want to go to the gala?”
“She claims she has evidence against Tomlin, and she’s only willing to hand it over to me if I get you to go to the gala.”
“Leave me out of it.”
I exited the room, but this time it was Lucy who chased after me. “I’m going to find out your connection to—”
I spun on her. “Fuck you! Leave me out of your crusade. I don’t want any part of it.”
“Are you willing to let a pedophile get away with everything? Did he do something to you when you were younger?”
“No,” I whispered, but he could have. I could see Mr. Tomlin’s face. He wasn’t a congressman then, just a handsome, rich employer who seemed extra nice to me. It started with being concerned I was lifting heavy furniture in order to clean. Opening doors when I was hauling out the trash. Smiling at me. Tipping us extra after a job. He told me I had beautiful hair and stunning green eyes. That I should become a model. Anger surged. I didn’t doubt Vivienne Tomlin knew that her husband was a sexual predator. She could have fired us. But no, she had to be vindictive. She had to send us to the dumpster to look for her emerald necklace and then send me the picture every year to remind me I was nothing but trash.
“Because he’s out there ruining lives. According to Elyse, the girls in the sex parties are drugged out of their minds with GHB before they’re sexually assaulted. Are you going to walk away from this?”
No. I couldn’t.
I lifted my head and squared my shoulders, staring directly at Lucy. “How can I help?”
An hour later, I was driving toward Montauk with Lucy in my new Audi SUV. Dom accompanied me to a car dealership two weeks ago to pick my new ride, but today was the first time I took it out of the city. I spent a good ten minutes with the vehicle manual to figure out the gizmos. It was quite an upgrade from my rickety van.
A blacked-out Explorer was following us. Lucy’s security was now my security. I was surprised Dom hadn’t insisted on coming with us when he found out we were visiting Margo. Something was afoot. I was still reeling at how the puzzle pieces were falling into place.
We reached a gated mansion near a bluff. I didn’t see any guards, but the second my SUV was within sights of the gate, it opened, indicating we were expected and being watched.
I pulled right in front of the stone wall façade. The entrance was an understated wood slab and a woman, dressed in a stylish sage-colored pantsuit, was already waiting for us.
“Is that Margo?” I asked.
“Yes,” Lucy said.
“This looks like a house with an array of servants.” Or a butler to usher us in.
“From what I gathered, no one really lives here, not even during the summer. It’s just an investment property,” she explained.
Lucy and I exited the Audi and both of us stood beside it, not knowing what to do. Margo’s nose flared in distaste as she drank in our attire.
Lucy and I were similarly dressed in shorts, T-shirts, and sneakers. The weather app forecasted warm and breezy, so why not dress comfortably?
“Well, come on in,” she addressed us before looking at our bodyguards. “Not you.”
“I think we’ll be fine,” I told them. “Dom knows where we are.”
The lead bodyguard checked his phone. “Yeah, boss said it was okay.”
Margo pivoted in an elegant half circle to enter the house. Lucy and I followed more cautiously.
The mustiness of the place hit my nose and the cleaner inside me automatically shifted gears to the effort it would take to clean this place. But my brain had to remind myself I didn’t do that work anymore. The covered furniture and the accumulating dust on the shelves told me it would simply go back to what it was in a few years.
“So why do we need to be here?” Lucy asked when we stopped at the foyer.
“I didn’t ask for Sloane to be here,” Margo said. “All I said was she needed to agree to go to the gala.” Her gaze slid to me. “But it’s good to see you looking well, Miss Scott.”
When I agreed to go to the gala with Dom, I asked him if I should thank Margo for rescuing me from Grigori. Dom emphatically said no. The kind of “no” that made me read between the lines. And I was familiar with Margo’s type. She wasn’t on anyone’s side except what made sense to her bottom line and reputation.
I acknowledged her statement with a curt nod. When unsure on how to respond, say less. Dealing with Margo was no different from dealing with the mob.
She seemed amused at my lack of a courteous reply, but I also saw a flash of admiration.
“We could have negotiated over the phone,” Lucy said.
Margo leaned in. “Your enemies have ears everywhere.”
We didn’t have far to go. Her study was next to the foyer. She probably didn’t want her guests venturing too far into the house. I still didn’t understand why she chose this meeting place.
She pushed a folder toward Lucy. “Your hard copy if you want, but you have an email with a link to a secure server to sign.”
She scanned the document, and with a couple of clicks, she returned her gaze to Margo. “I’m comparing it to the original terms you sent me.”
The older woman smiled. “You know, you remind me a lot of my younger self. I admit you’re even more ingenious, but don’t always rely on technology, Miss De Lucci. Sometimes you have to do the groundwork to get results.”
“Oh, is that a compliment?” Lucy retorted.
“Face it.” Margo smiled. “You idolize me. That’s why you’re doing all this. Rattling my clients, so I’ll notice you.”
“Then why didn’t I sign a covenant with you in the first place? We know Dom wasn’t your target. It was me.”
“I won’t say your brother wouldn’t be a coup. But your mother is too set on the Zahkarov girl, who is totally wrong for him.”
I was getting more confused. “Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. What are you talking about? And, Lucy, you’re not signing anything.”
Lucy glanced at me and smirked. “Sorry. You’re not the boss of me either. Contracts are the same. Now show me the evidence.”
Margo tapped on the tablet, and Lucy stared at her screen.
“This is more disgusting than I thought.” Pink suffused Lucy’s face. “This is the man you’re protecting?”
“I’ve only acquired this evidence recently, and it’s what pushed me to give up my client. There are certain lines I won’t cross, and most of the time, I look the other way if it isn’t worth my time to intervene.”
Lucy was still transfixed on the screen, her jaw clenching and unclenching. Finally, I willed myself to look over her shoulder.
Bile rose up my throat. “That girl can’t be over thirteen.”
I looked away, but Lucy continued to watch.
“I don’t know how you can—”
A suppressed sob tore up Lucy’s throat. “Because I have to make sure there’s enough here to nail that bastard.”
“There’s more than enough,” Margo said.
She glanced at Margo. “Sorry, we’re not at the trust stage yet. This works. This will not be admissible in court…”
“But you know where the rest of Elyse’s evidence is located,” Margo finished. “And this is enough cause for authorities to get a search warrant.”
“Yes, and I’m not going to risk getting my ass thrown in jail to get it,” Lucy said.
I guessed she meant breaking and entering. I wouldn’t put it past her to do it too and had no doubt she’d done it before.
“This is better.” Lucy did a couple of taps on her screen. “The covenant is signed.”
Margo pushed forward two ornate envelopes similar to the one Dom’s mother gave him. “Then you two have some shopping to do.”
I couldn’t resist slipping out the invitation. I ran my fingers over the raised print of the event date and something clicked. “Is this September nine the reason why you wanted me to stay in the Outer Banks until this date?”
“Yes,” Margo replied with an enigmatic smile. “If either you or Dominic hadn’t pulled through with my expectations by the time the gala came around, then I would have cut my losses.” She walked around her desk, stepped up to me, and peered into my eyes. “But I recognize resilience when I see it.”
We didn’t hang around for small talk, but when we reached the grand foyer, Margo called, “Miss Scott.”
I stiffened and turned to face her.
“Show them you have what it takes to be the belle of the ball.”
“I’m not sure—”
“No limits, Miss Scott. I believe in you.”
