Page 9 of First Snow
“Vittu,” Arttu mumbles under his breath. On the flight, he did his homework on the BDSM community, so he hopes he passes as reasonably experienced. Nonetheless, Arttu feels out of his depth. His gaze sweeps over the crowd again, but no sign of Faeling so far. Arttu is way too sober for this shit. He makes his way over to the bar to change this misfortune. The bartender is a redhead with lots of piercings, rocking a revealing leather dress. Arttu would be tempted to flirt if he wasn’t here for completely different reasons.
“A lager, please,” he says as soon as he has her attention.
The woman smiles at him and unpromptedly opens a bottle of non-alcoholic beer.
Arttu frowns at her. “Thanks, but I didn’t order that.”
“You can give me that if you want to drink alcohol.” She pointedly looks at his bracelet.
“What?”
“Only play when sober, darling.”
Arttu rolls his eyes. “What kind of club is this? Fine, give me the alcohol-free then.”
“Good choice.”
Leaning heavily against the bar, Arttu sighs and turns to the main stage. After Tuulia sent him everything she could find about Faeling, it took him two weeks to file his leave and plan his trip to London. Arttu is not yet sure what Faeling’s motive was for killing his victims. He can’t even be sure if Mikael and Jenna Scott were his victims at all. But he knows a half-assed investigation when he sees one, and he won’t be satisfied until he has more evidence of Faeling’s innocence or, more likely, his guilt. He’s not going to let a serial killer get away just because he’s rich and handsome.
Arttu needs to find out more about Faeling and his ominous club. But without an official way to investigate, unfortunately, there’s nothing he can do other than getting to know the guy. Arttu is no stranger to working undercover. He knows it will be nearly impossible for him to infiltrate Faeling’s wealthy circle of friends, at least not without a police operation to back him up. So he has to seek him out at his club.
Unfortunately, Tuulia was able to gather little information about Faeling’s private life and his relationships. Arttu would have thought that it should be possible to find out what kind of sub attracts a man who owns a sex club and flaunts his identity as a Dom at every opportunity. But no such luck. So he has to rely on his natural charm.
Someone slips onto a bar stool next to him and sighs. A sideways glance shows Arttu that the petite brunette who orders a beer, non-alcoholic, is wearing a red bracelet.
“What?”
He’s been caught staring.
“Nothing, I…Sorry.”
“What? You take one look at me and decide I’m not worth playing with because I’m too short?” Her cheeks color, and she glares at him with a stormy expression. “I swear, the next person joking about my height or that I would be better off as a sub gets their eyes clawed out!”
“Okay,” Arttu says, raising his hands placatingly. He can sympathize with her misery. At 5'7", he’s short enough to feel like he’s heard all the jokes at some point, too. “I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. I’m just–” he breaks off again when he finally spots Faeling striding through the crowd as if he owns the place. Well, technically, he does own the place, but still.
“Just what?” she snaps before she follows his gaze. “Oh. Do you have a crush onhim?”
“No!” Arttu hurries to say, feeling his face heat up. “I’m gay.” There, finally. That’s something his undercover persona would say. Arttu considers himself bi, but for the sake of the mission it’s probably better to let Faeling think he only has eyes for him. With Arttu’s lack of sex life it doesn’t make much of a difference, anyway.
Despite his mortification, he can’t take his eyes off Faeling. He’s even more athletic than Arttu would’ve assumed from the photographs, dark and handsome like the villain in a black-and-white movie. Shit, how is Arttu supposed to seduce a guy who looks likethat?
“Oh,” the woman says again. “Sorry for assuming,” she hesitates while Arttu cranes his neck to make out where Faeling is going.
“I’m Emily.”
“Arttu,” he answers automatically, and well shit, there goes his opportunity to introduce himself with a fake name. He knew it was a rookie mistake not to decide on the matter beforehand. But forging a completely fake identity has perils of its own, so maybe going with a half-truth is for the better, anyway.
“Are you here often?” Emily asks.
“No.”
Emily laughs, sounding as awkward as Arttu feels. “I assumed again. You seem to know Mr. Faeling.”
“Well, you know him, too.”
“Yeah, he has quite a reputation in the community. But you looked—never mind! Don’t listen to me.”
Arttu watches as Faeling sits down at a table near the stage, which Arttu assumes is a VIP area. He snorts. What is it with these Brits? It was hard enough to get invited to this party. Arttu had to call in a few favors to even get here. What purpose would another VIP section serve? His heart sinks when Faeling starts talking to a ridiculously good-looking blond man. Well, if his target is going to hook up with the guy, Arttu might as well leave. He turns to Emily, who looks at him as if she’s bemoaning both of their fates.