Page 35

After I joined The Orchid, I learned Sofia is his sister, and Elias provides The Orchid with the candidates and security for the men and women working on the Rose floors.

The more I’m embroiled in his shady businesses, the less likely he’ll let me go.

And as is, I’m already doing some financial work for him on the side to speed up the debt repayment.

I’ve even hired a private investigator to find the identity of my father, the only parent I have left in this world if he’s still alive. I cringe as a pinch of guilt makes an appearance. Mom would hate it if she knew I’m searching for him.

But don’t I have a right to know?

There’s only Taylor and me left in the world now, and if Mom’s death has taught me anything, life is fleeting, and I wouldn’t want to carry this regret with me when I leave this world.

“Ladies, ready?” A deep, rumbling voice speaks from behind us. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the person I’ll see when I turn around.

Elias.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, dressed in all black, just like his soul, his fingers playing with an antique lighter I’ve seen him toy with whenever he makes the occasional appearance at The Orchid. The odd thing is the man doesn’t even smoke.

His piercing green eyes meet mine, but unlike most men in this establishment, they don’t stray from my face. “I don’t need to remind you this event is important to the Andersons and myself. I’m running all the games tonight. So, you know what to do. Don’t disappoint.”

Elias steps into the light, drawing our gazes to the sharp scar slicing across his left cheek all the way to the temples. It’s almost a shame how the cut adds rugged appeal to his otherwise handsome face.

“And Genevieve, thank you for the analysis of my investments. It’s better than the ones my banker put together. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. If you don’t want to dance, all you need to do is ask. There’s a spot in my finance department with your name on it.”

I swallow and dole out a terse nod. “I’m fine here.”

Without changing his expression, he returns my nod with a brief dip of his head and stalks away.

I sense the weight of Camille’s stare at the back of my neck. “Camille, he’d never let me go if I enter the belly of the beast and see whatever details are in the little black book of his.”

Camille links arms with me as we walk toward the elevators. “Well then, you have one more year to go, and I’ll be here with you every step of the way. I say let’s go get buzzed with some top-shelf alcohol and duck or goose liver or whatever fancy crap they have downstairs.”

My heart pinches.

“Ew. Do you know how they make foie gras? They fatten up a duck or a goose just so they can harvest the liver. It’s barbaric! That’s why they banned it in the city for a few years.”

Steven arches a sardonic brow. “You and your bleeding heart. Why don’t you become vegan then? They do the same things to chickens.”

That day at Central Park was one of the best days of my life.

Steven, I miss you.

Lotus, one of the four ballrooms in the building, is buzzing with people when Camille and I make our appearance.

Most of the rooms in this building are named after flowers.

Along with the name of the establishment, The Orchid, and its parent company, Fleur Entertainment, I guess the Andersons must really love flowers.

In the past, I would be curious enough to pull up the search engine in my phone and immerse myself in research, not resting until I find out the reasons or history behind this.

But it’s as if the innate curiosity I used to have has disappeared in the last nine months. And I don’t find any reason to care anymore .

Still, it’s impossible not to be awed by this palatial room, with its towering ceilings and stained-glass windows depicting the delicate lotus flower, with its white petals unblemished, floating in the waters.

Lamplight from the outside filters through the windows, cascading the illusion of crystalline waters dotted with swaths of pink and white to the floors.

Floor-to-ceiling gilded mirrors adorn the walls, much like what I’d imagine I’d see if I ever get to visit the palaces in France.

The mahogany floors, laid in a herringbone pattern, are clean, and shine under the spotlights dotting the ceilings. Tall, round tables are interspersed throughout the room, with towering glass vases filled with peonies of every color on the surface, its sweet scent lingering in the air.

Next to the floral arrangements are longer tables with the classic green velvet covering—blackjack, poker, roulette, and craps—the theme tonight, Monte Carlo in Spring suddenly makes sense.

Clusters of well-dressed people gather around the tables, men in pristine suits and women in beautiful gowns focus on the cards in front of them, small crowds cheering as a gorgeous woman in a champagne dress blows on a pair of dice before her partner, a man who’s clearly already had too much to drink, tosses them onto the table.

The space hums with excitement, with energy, as the top one percent of the world mingles in throngs, eager to spend thousands of dollars like chump change.

I’ve heard this is a mixer for the elite in the financial industry, which means everyone who is anyone on the East Coast is probably in this room. My hands grow damp, and I sweep my eyes around the room, hoping I don’t see the tall, handsome silhouette of the man I’ve never forgotten about.

Pasting a smile on my face, I waltz up to the roulette table and smile at the gentlemen gathered there.

I’m Lady Luck, and I’m here to put you at ease and learn your secrets .

Secrets I’ll then relay back to Elias, whose rise to power, I suspect, has everything to do with the amount of sordid information he knows and barters for deals to be made.

Violence is so last century , he would say, before he disappears into the shadows.

“Hello, beautiful. Which firm do you work at?” A middle-aged man whose waistline tells me he knows gourmet food intimately smiles at me before extending his hand. “I’m Harold Jenkins from Finch Capital.”

“Genevieve, nice to meet you. I work here at The Orchid.” I gingerly place my hand in his.

His fingers tighten as understanding dawns in his eyes, and the professionalism from a moment ago slips away like a snake shedding its skin. He steps closer, temporarily forgetting the game as his eyes drift down my body in a languid perusal.

Acid churns in my gut, but I force myself not to move and to maintain the smile on my face.

Finally, his eyes meet mine again and his lips curl into a sneer. “A Rose girl? Are you open for companionship?”

Looking down at my manicured hands, I feign demureness, when I want nothing more than to kick his balls and relish in his howl of pain. “I’m not a companion. I’m a dancer at Trésor.”

“Ah. The burlesque club. I have not been there before, but…” he steps back and eyes me from head to toe, “I think I should visit.”

Revulsion curls around my throat like a noose and I murmur, “We’d be delighted to have you. In the meantime, would you like me to place a bet for you?”

Harold grins and holds his hands open, giving me access to his chips.

Smiling, I take a few chips and place them on the red number thirty.

Glancing at the dealer in front of me, I touch my right ear, the universal signal for a round to be in our favor.

With an infinitesimal nod, the dealer, a young man with reddish brown hair, rolls the ball into a wheel, which—I’m not sure how Elias engineers this—will no doubt land on my number of choice.

Stepping up to Harold, I watch his pupils dilate as my fingers graze his tie.

“So, Harold, I hear Finch is working on a deal to offload TransAmerica with the hostile takeover. I have some stocks in TA myself,” I bat my eyes at him, watching his oily face flush, “I’m worried about losing my savings. Would you know something about this? ”

I bite on my lip softly, as not to ruin the lipstick, and the crowd beside us cheer and the dealer announces, “Red, thirty.”

Clasping my hand to my mouth, I gasp in mock surprise. “Lucky me! Look, you doubled your investment, Harold!”

Harold laughs and slides his hand on top of mine, giving it a quick squeeze. “You’re my lucky charm for tonight.” He leans in and whispers, “And I’ll have you know…Finch is selling the shares to Pietra. I’d look at liquidating what you have…things will get ugly soon, honey.”

My pulse skyrockets at the name of the firm he works at. The place I used to dream I’d work at after graduation instead of here. My eyes dart around the room, searching for the unmistakable man, hoping the stars are on my side.

“Genevieve?” Harold’s eyes are glued to my cleavage again.

I let out a soft laugh, hoping I’m convincing, and lean in to kiss him on the cheek. Mission accomplished with the first target.

Pietra is in active pursuit and Finch is one of the marks. I knew Steven had plans months ago. I guess they are in action now. Elias should be pleased with this tidbit. Hopefully, he’d considered this as part of the signing bonus repayment.

“It was lovely to meet you, Harold. If you’re ever in need of entertainment, Trésor always welcomes you.”

With one last smile, I spin away, walking as gracefully as I can toward the refreshment table, so I can grab a piece of tissue and wipe off any remaining trace of him from my lips.

One more year, Grace. You can do this. My thoughts race as I hasten my stride to the table ahead, bitterness swarming in my gut. Life is one big adventure. Even on the scenic route, there’d be rough paths and winding curves. A beautiful view lies ahead.

Affirmations, mantras, whatever you want to call it, the flimsiest thoughts keeping me sane.