Niall (Vigilance 2)

I chatted with Dalton a bit as I pretended to sip cocktails and flipped through a magazine. At one point, Dalton went for a run, but the others seemed content to just lie there, soaking up sun and occasionally talking about skincare routines and designer bags. After a few hours, I felt like I’d been put through the wringer. I hadn’t realized being merely decorative could be so exhausting.

Since I had little to contribute, I kept to myself. Fortunately, considering Marco’s extreme possessiveness, they likely thought I’d been forbidden to talk to them. That suited me fine. It gave me a chance to listen to them while pretending to listen to music on the headphones I was wearing.

I was thinking I’d have to write the morning off when Lavender said, “I thought Swain was going to be here. I was looking forward to another night or two with him.”

Orly’s companion snorted. “You just like how much he loves watching you and Tib.”

Dalton wrinkled his nose. “He’s too kinky for me. Last time he wanted to piss on me.”

Tiberius flopped back on his chair. “I am so not into that, but Lavender doesn’t care. She’s got, like, no boundaries.”

“I know how to have fun,” she said with a primness that did not fit with her confession.

“Swain, like the congressman?” I asked after hitting record on my phone.

Lavender sucked in her breath and clapped her hand over her mouth. “I think I wasn’t supposed to mention him.”

Tiberius rolled his eyes. “Anyone should be able to guess that the man is a fucking pervert. Besides, who’s Niall going to tell?”

“He’ll tell Marco.”

“So what? He’s going to be in business with the guy. What difference does it make?”

I broke in before Lavender could respond. “Trust me, I know how to keep a secret. I mean, yes, I’ll tell Marco, but nothing will go past him. Nobody in his line of work wants to tell secrets, and I’m sure none of us want to get our men in trouble.”

“Too true,” Dalton said, and we giggled.

I was better at acting than I thought. I sounded just as inane as the rest of them. “So Swain was supposed to be here?”

Lavender nodded. “I thought so anyway. He’s usually here when they all get together, but I guess he decided not to come until Mr. Ricci has made a decision.”

“Oh, he’s definitely in. He says it’s a great business opportunity. He didn’t tell me much about it though. Do you know what it’s all about? Why are they so secretive?”

Lavender shrugged. “I don’t really know, but it makes lots of money. What difference does it make as long as they spend their money on us?”

“True enough,” I said, lifting my cocktail glass as if to toast her. She clinked her glass against mine and gave me an assessing smile as if wondering if I’d broken Marco’s rules about sharing behind his back.

No one else answered, but I noticed a look of concern on Dalton’s face. Did he know more or suspect it? How could any of them not know what kind of men they were mixed up with? Maybe, like Lavender, they didn’t care as long as they got the money.

The conversation shifted then, and I managed to look as though I was doing something innocent on my phone when I ended the recording and saved the file to a remote server.

When he finally joined us, Malachi was wearing a glittery cover-up over his swimsuit, and I couldn’t tell if he had any serious marks from the night before. He seemed in fine spirits this morning and was moving around well, but I was also fairly sure he was already high on something.

A servant came out to the pool in the early afternoon and asked if we’d like food brought out. He said the others were enjoying lunch as part of their meeting. Not long after we ate, Arlington walked out to the pool. He was beaming, and he said we were all to get freshened up and join him on his yacht for a celebration.

That must mean they’d come to an agreement, and Marco would, hopefully, have more details about their operation. Maybe Swain would even join us now. I knew the conversation I’d recorded earlier wouldn’t be enough to nail him, but it was a start.

I met up with Marco in the hall as I hurried to our room. Neither of us spoke, not wanting to chance someone overhearing the things we needed to discuss. When we reached our door, I knew we were in trouble.

I laid a hand on Marco’s arm before he touched the knob. “Someone’s been in there.”

“How do you know?”

I pointed to a piece of clear plastic about a centimeter square that was lying on the floor. “I wedged that in the door so I’d know if it had been opened.”