Page 123 of Pandora's Pleasure

A pretty brunette strolled by me. She looked out of place in her ripped jeans and baseball cap, like she didn’t want to be seen. She was looking up in the direction of the club. I caught a glimpse of a mole on her right upper lip. Except for the dark hair, she reminded me of Marilyn Monroe. She wore a ruby pinky ring. An interesting choice; I wondered if she knew wearing it on that finger represented self-love and an aversion to commitment. Monroe’s doppelganger elegantly ascended the stone steps to the entrance.

Her lack of confidence was glaring. I’d grown up with the type of women who thought nothing of strolling into elite clubs filled with alphas with their heads held high. She didn’t fit the profile. I wondered what she was doing here.

On a hunch, I followed her up the steps.

The interior was pleasantly designed with marble flooring and classic wood molding to enhance the swanky style.

Peering through the front window, I watched her stroll across the foyer to greet Galante. He put an arm around her shoulders and they walked through a doorway.

Were they having lunch together?

It was none of my business, but it certainly looked like an affair. Or maybe she was his daughter and I was over thinking it.

Defeated, I returned to the car.

“Thank you for making that happen,” I told Randolph.

“You’re welcome, but please don’t tell anyone,” he said nervously.

“Never.” Pulling on my seatbelt, I said, “The Foxhall residence, please.”

“How did it go, Miss?” he asked.

I sighed. “As expected.”

What the fuck were you thinking?

I didn’t say it though. I merely leaned on the kitchen counter and offered Pandora a kind smile to reassure her that I was glad to see her home. She’d walked into the house a minute ago and stopped short when she reached the kitchen.

I wasn’t alone and it seemed to startle her.

Bardot had only moved in with me three days ago, and already, she’d almost destroyed an empire in less than twenty-four fucking hours.

From her expression of guilt, she knew that we knew what she’d done. Her uneasy gaze bounced from me over to Madeline. She was also probably wondering if she’d walked in on something between me and my ex.

I rounded the central island and pulled Pandora in for a hug, kissing her tenderly on the lips to show her all was well—or at least as well as it could be when your girlfriend had just met with the most dangerous media mogul in the world.

She had put herself on his radar, which meant I was now, too.

I rested my hands on her shoulders.

She forced a smile at Madeline. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Madeline gave her a warm smile back.

“Coffee?” I moved away, not waiting for an answer, needing to keep my hands busy while my brain ran through the best way to deal with the situation.

“Damien invited me over,” Madeline began.

“I’m glad.” Pandora looked fine with it, but then again that was her. Always accommodating and effortlessly presenting her best self.

I slid the fresh mug of coffee over the countertop toward her. “I know about your meeting with Galante.”

Pandora approached the barstool and sat down, her brows knitting together. “I thought so. But how?”

Madeline cast a glance my way. “Galante is dangerous. We think it’s best—”

“We?” Pandora’s frown deepened.