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Delia placed a possessive hand on Helena’s knee. “We’ll see what the game is first. Helena here does like a good time, though.”

“I can speak for myself,” Helena muttered.

Delia maintained a cool demeanor as she silently reprimanded the woman she had brought among such elite women. “Do you know who that was?” she whispered when Tara wandered away to speak to someone else. “Astrid Evans’s fiancée.”

“I’ve heard of her.”

“Good. Then you know she’s hotter shit than the four of us combined. She has close friends in every lesbian circle around here. She’s also a former high-end escort who married well and now wields more power both in the boardroom and out of it. She likes me well enough, and I want to keep it that way. So don’t go pissing off her girlfriend Tara. The girl likes everyone.”

“Right. So if she doesn’t like me, I’ve fucked up with my charming personality.”

“She’s not the type to be taken in by you flashing your body at her, no. She doesn’t sleep around like some of the others here.”

“What do you mean?”

Mira must have been listening in, because she couldn’t take Delia dancing around the point any longer. “This kind of party is a hotbed for partner-swapping and indulging in the kind of kinks that the feds don’t like. Why do you think it’s hosted here? The owners of this club pay off local authorities to look the other way when shit gets wild. For the love of God, do you know how Tara and Astrid met?”

“Yes,” Helena didn’t hesitate to answer. “This is the club that hosts the auction, isn’t it?”

Mira was mildly impressed that Helena knew. So was Delia, who had seen that listed on Helena’s bucket list. As if she knows what that entails. Wasn’t it quaint how many of these young out-of-towners thought they were ready for that kind of show? Tara had gotten off lucky, being bought by someone like Astrid. Everyone knew it. Everyone talks about it. The same couldn’t be said for some of the other women who put themselves up for the annual auction. Even then, the club rigorously auditioned them, because the tastes of the wealthy buyers were all over the place. But most of them are men, so you know how it is. Skinny, tall, blond, and unique. In Tara’s case, she had also been a virgin before Astrid got her.

Everyone knew the story. It was practically public knowledge.

“If I get in good with Tara,” Helena mused, “I could get in with that circle, huh?”

Delia was the only one who heard her. “Don’t forget who you’re here with. At least do me the honor of not abandoning me for a wealthier and more powerful woman the moment you have the chance. It won’t look good for me.”

“Of course not. You’ve given me little to complain about thus far.”

“Oh, well then, if you’re not…”

Delia’s thought trailed off when she realized everyone, including Helena, was captivated by the latest couple to walk into the room.

To be fair, they were a big deal. Not just former winners of the Summit, but two of the most expensive performers on the circuit. Speaking of wild kinks… Delia had lost some of her money to Vanessa Richards and her pet Michelle before. Money she did not miss.

Not as much as she missed that feminine body presenting itself, wearing nothing but dark pink underwear and a shoulder-length blond wig that caught the attention of everyone.

Eventually, Blair and Mira went back to talking about whatever had been on their minds. Delia glanced away from Michelle, who was sure to be the biggest attraction that night. She’ll choose the party game. I guarantee it. Delia turned to Helena, expecting her to be curious…

But not frozen solid, her brows bent in a furious furrow that transcended annoyance and catapulted straight to fuck that bitch.

“Whoa.” Delia stuck her head in Helena’s line of sight. “Someone you know?”

Helena sank into the corner of the loveseat, an invisible, impenetrable wall erecting between her and Delia. “You could certainly say that.”

The night had only become more interesting.

Chapter 12

You have got to be kidding me.

So far, Helena had recognized a handful of the women at the party. There was Blair from the lounge, of course, but Irene Feist’s circle had been so large that Helena recognized more than a few of the women wandering around the VIP area, sipping drinks, chatting with friends, and ogling the half-naked partners of their rivals and best friends. Irene loved hanging out with those types. More than once, Helena had been the half-naked partner being ogled at or felt up when Irene allowed it. She always allowed it.

But then there were the women Helena was content to never see again. Like Michelle and, to a lesser extent, her Mistress Vanessa.

A waitress came by passing out Mardi Gras beads. “For tonight’s festivities,” she said to Delia, who collected a total of three necklaces, one in each festive color of Mardi Gras. “We will be playing with these.”

“Thank you, darling.” Delia dropped her smile once the waitress was gone, leaving her with three long necklaces dangling from her hand. “Ugh. So uninspired. That must mean we’re playing the bracelet game but with necklaces instead.”