Terrance disappears into the crowd, leaving me on my own. I could go for a wander. Go see some sites. But that’s not part of my job. Being in public isn’t helpful, because I can’t be seen with Perry without risking his race for power, or pissing him off. But I can wander, observe, remain in the background. I need something. Well, I have something—Perry apparently has a new investor—but I need more. I need to be out of Perry’s life. God, how long will Nox have me playing the smitten mistress? Adams makes my skin crawl. I’ve gotten Nox pictures and video footage. I’ve told him what I’ve heard.
I start a slow wander toward the table where Perry is sitting, but I’m soon pulled to a halt by Terrance’s hand around my wrist. “Not too close,” he warns. I sigh, casting my eyes around the space. It’s bustling. Loud. Almost hectic. The casino floor of the Aria is deafening.
And suddenly, it isn’t.
Suddenly, you could hear a pin drop.
Suddenly, it’s like someone pushed the pause button on life.
Everyone falls silent. Everyone stills. Everyone looks in the same direction.
And everyone visibly tenses.
I frown with my glass at my lips, following their stares until I find what has their attention. My spine rolls until it’s straight, my glass lowering a fraction.
He’s flanked at every angle by heavies, four of them, and I swallow, letting my stare wander all over his tall, suited frame. His body is nothing short of lethal. His aura is nothing short of a warning. Sharp, dangerous, icy-blue eyes scan the space as the crowd moves to allow him through. It’s like the parting of the sea. The homecoming of Christ. And his face . . .
“Fuck,” Terrence says from beside me, pulling my attention to him. He yanks his cell urgently from his jacket and dials. “The Brit’s here,” he informs whoever’s on the end.
The Brit? My eyes shoot back to the man who has everyone’s attention. The Angel-faced Assassin? Danny Black? With the confirmation of who he is, I know I should be doing what everyone else in the vicinity is doing. Trembling. Yet I’m not. It’s been a long time since I allowed myself to be frightened, and if the man before me now can’t scare me, nothing ever will. I’ve heard whispers about Danny Black. His influence. His power. His ruthless and brutal approach to business.
But no one ever said he’s beautiful.
I look down at my champagne, noticing it’s splashing up the side of the glass. I’m well aware that this isn’t because I’m suddenly shaking with the fear that was absent. I should be certifiably quaking in my heels at his presence, along with everyone else. But instead, I’m rapt. Trembling for a whole other reason.
I exhale shakily, looking up through my lashes. I study him as he approaches Perry, and a quick glance at my lover confirms that he, above everyone else here, is shaking the most.
The Brit comes to a stop, one hand in his pocket, the other extended toward the man I’m fucking. Perry looks like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Danny Black can go fuck himself? I laugh on the inside. With Terrance distracted, I move forward, keen to hear what’s about to go down. What’s going to be said? My God, if I deliver something truly monumental to Nox, I may get more than a photograph of my boy this time.
“What a surprise,” Perry says, glancing around as he takes The Brit’s hand.
“A nice surprise, Perry?” The Brit is cool. Way too cool. It’s a dangerous cool.
“Of course.” Perry ushers him to the side and they speak for a few moments, Adams looking downright terrified, The Brit looking nothing short of impassive. I’ve been around these kind of people long enough to know what I’m seeing. I’m seeing a man in fear of his life and a man who wouldn’t hesitate to take it. I edge as close as I can without being obvious, listening.
“I’m getting impatient,” Black says, his jaw tight.
Perry flinches, and my eyes fall to their clasped hands. The Brit’s hold looks brutal, Perry’s flesh white from lack of blood flow. “I’m afraid I can’t do business with you anymore,” Perry says, trying to sound confident, but I know. I just know. “I have to go legit. I don’t have any choice. I’ll pay you back every penny,” he says, prompting Black to pull his hand free and turn it palm up. “No, no,” Perry says, shaking life into his hand subtly. “Not here. Not now.”
“I want it now.”
“I don’t carry around fifteen million in my pocket.”
“I don’t think you heard me.” Black bends a little, surely so Perry can see the deadliness of his stare up close. “I want it now.”
“I . . . I don’t . . . I don’t have it now. Not at this precise moment.”