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45
EMMY
Oh, for crying out loud.
“That’s Dan’s idea of semi-formal?”Black murmured.
Well, technically, she wasn’t wrong.Dan had paired a tuxedo jacket with matching micro shorts and black leather ankle boots.
“I didn’t realise she planned to take it literally.”
“At least nobody’s looking at the terrace.”
No, half of Ilya’s lapdogs were studying Dan’s ass, and the other half were staring at her boobs.We’d counted seven men so far, including one guy positioned at the bottom of the stairs in the hall, just in case the velvet rope and the “Please refrain from passing this point” sign weren’t enough of a deterrent.Every single woman in the room was checking out Armand, Miroslava Novikova included.She’d shown up with Timonenko, and he didn’t look happy about the situation.
The inside of the house wasn’t quite as ugly as the outside, although let’s face it, that wasn’t much of an achievement.An archway led from the large living room into an open-plan kitchen and dining area where a chef prepped canapés with a flair that was more theatre than cooking.Angelou had expensive taste.From Mack’s research, he appeared to be struggling with his finances, though.He’d maxed out three credit cards, and parties like this didn’t come cheap.What was his grand plan for paying off the debt?
Folding doors at the back of the house led to the terrace, and another henchman had positioned himself just inside to monitor the rear.Ilya himself was standing at the front door, giving each guest the once-over as they walked in.Alaric and Hallie had passed muster, and now they were out on the terrace, sipping drinks and making small talk with a bunch of industry types.A guy in a dinner suit played bland tunes on a grand piano in the corner, although his efforts couldn’t drown out the sound of Svetlana’s dog barking upstairs.
Ilya had missed me and Black, though.We’d come in through the back.Angelou only had one small boat, and there was plenty of space at his dock, so Alex had shuttled us over in the tender from theBlack Opal.Now he was playing the bored chauffeur, reading a paperback in the light spilling over from the terrace as he waited to take us back.And of course, he was also providing us with quiet commentary through hidden earpieces.
“Ravi and Spider are in place.”
By “in place,” he meant waiting farther along the beach, dressed in the same style of plain black uniform the waitstaff were wearing.When the time was right, they’d hop onto the terrace, pick up trays, and make their way to the side of the house, where they’d have an easy climb to the second-floor balcony.Ravi was basically a mountain goat in human skin, and Pale assured us that Spider could scale a wall in seconds.Was that where she’d got her nickname?
Angelou approached with Svetlana, and I put on my “trophy wife” face.Slightly imperious, a little bored.
“We’re so glad you could make it tonight.You’re from across the water, right?Our new neighbours?”He held out a hand.“Bryant Angelou, and this is my partner, Svetlana.”
Black shook hands with Angelou and kissed Svetlana on the cheek.
“Chuck Brown.”
I followed suit.The diamond on my ring finger left no illusion as to our relationship, but just in case Angelou was a complete idiot—he had gotten involved with Ilya Molotov and Marat Timonenko, after all—I made things clear.
“And I’m Emily, Chuck’s wife.”
Svetlana’s bio claimed she was twenty-three, but up close, she looked younger.There was an air of naivety about her.The way she kept sneaking glances at Armand as if she couldn’t quite believe he was real said she still played in the minor leagues, and now she was staring up at Black with the same fascination.I’d half watched one of her movies earlier while Bradley was doing my hair—she’d be all right in a romcom if she could sort out her accent, and she might do a half-decent job as the damsel in distress-slash-sidekick in an action flick, but she didn’t have the acting chops for a serious dramatic role.
“Have you been in Naples for long?”Angelou asked.
Black pretended to sip from his glass of champagne.“A week or so.We’re only here for a change of scene—the weather on the East Coast hasn’t been too kind lately.”
“That’s where you’re based?The East Coast?”
“New York, but we have friends in California, plus I do some business here.”
“What line of work are you in?”
“I have fingers in various pies.Mostly, I invest in things that interest me.And what do you do, Bryant?”
“I’m a movie producer.”
“Oh, really?What genre?”
Alaric spoke in our ears.“Good to go?”
Confirmations followed from Barbie, Ravi, and Spider, and when nobody raised any objections, Pale—who’d been nominated as director of tonight’s production—gave the okay.He was viewing proceedings from the terrace of the rental house, where he’d settled in with a beer he wasn’t drinking, a cigar he wasn’t smoking, and a book he wasn’t reading.