Page 51

My mouth drops open as I gape at my surroundings.

Deep reds, golds, and blacks, ambient and neon lighting—Trésor is the epitome of luxury, sensuality, and futuristic sophistication.

At the heart of the club is a large center stage, flanked by smaller floating stages, where girls in glittery burlesque wear are dancing to sultry music.

This place is classy—somewhere I can imagine hors d’oeuvres and champagne being served instead of dollar bills stuffed into thongs.

Instead of traditional seating, there are two levels of circular pods surrounding the room.

Each pod is private yet features glass walls that can turn opaque at a press of a button.

I imagine they’ll come in handy for private lap dances and other activities.

“Nova, are you okay by yourself right here for a few minutes? I need to talk to Trey over at the bar.” Ethan motions to the coworker I met when he was coaching me on financial ratios in his office.

“Sure. I see my friends. Do your thing.”

“I’ll be back before the show starts.” He scrapes his finger on my nose, and my heart flutters.

Giving me a wink, Ethan saunters off.

I head toward Grace and Taylor, who are next to the refreshments table.

“Camille! You’re working today?” Grace squeals and darts toward a stunning blond in a black-sequined leotard.

“Oui. Can’t pass up on opening night. The tips will flow.”

The girls giggle as I gape at them and Taylor saunters up to me.

“Grace did a stint here a few years ago. ”

“What? Grace was a stripper?” My eyes bug out.

“The term is exotic dancer. And it’s complicated. She didn’t completely strip or do lap dances. She was more of a burlesque dancer.”

“And Steven let her?” I eye the tall, commanding Steven Kingsley standing next to some guys, smiling at his wife.

“Pssh. He doesn’t get to let her do anything. She’s the boss of her own life. Long story, but we got saddled with massive debt and if we couldn’t come up with quick money, things would’ve gotten ugly. Steven didn’t know about our issues back then. It caused a lot of drama, to say the least.” Taylor sighs.

“My sister took one for the team.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say. You girls are tough cookies.”

“You need to be to survive the underbelly of The Bronx. Things are better here on the Rose floors than at other shady places. Elias keeps a tight leash on things. No funny business. The workers get the final say in what they want, or don’t want, to provide.”

“I heard my name.”

A tall, imposing man himself materializes next to us from thin air.

I jolt.

“Holy crap, Elias! You need a cowbell or something.” Taylor slaps her hand over her chest.

Oh, so this is the infamous Elias.

I’d heard about him before but have never met him until now.

“I don’t think a cowbell will go well with my outfit,” he murmurs, a barely there smile tilting his lips.

I eye the mobster, taking in the dark hair and piercing green eyes, the masculine features that almost look aristocratic if it weren’t for the long scar spanning his cheek.

He’s wearing a tailored black suit, no tie to be seen, and a green handkerchief tucked in his jacket pocket.

A gold chain peeks from his vest and, as if he knows I’m curious, he pulls out an intricate gold and silver lighter.

He flicks it on and off.

“What were you guys saying about me?” He stares at the flickering flame .

“Girl gossip. Don’t tell me you’re interested in that now,” Taylor deadpans.

“It’s good to broaden my horizons. In my experience, women often overhear things or have unique insights into issues. I value your thoughts.”

This is the weirdest conversation I’ve been part of.

“Tay was mentioning how you have a tight rein on the Rose floors.” I cock my head, trying to figure out if his lighter flicking has a pattern.

Morse code? His moods?

He smirks. Stuffing the lighter back into his vest, he turns to me.

“Too many people take advantage of sex workers—male or female.” His jaw works and he swallows.

“The Andersons know I won’t stand for that.”

Elias stares at me—the unnerving intensity in his eyes reminding me of Ethan.

“I may be many things, but I have a special hatred for crimes against women. Sex sells and will happen whether you like it or not. But taking advantage of the hard workers here—not on my watch.”

A chill runs through my body from the dangerous rasp of his voice.

This is a man I don’t want to cross.

“Charles is waving me over. I gotta go.” Taylor flashes me a peace sign and darts off, leaving me with the enigmatic man.

“I want to ask you.” He steps to my side, his voice a low murmur.

“Have you seen anything strange these days?”

Frowning, I glance toward the bar, searching for Ethan, because he’ll know what I should or shouldn’t say, but I don’t see him.

I only notice Dayton chatting with Trey.

“Ethan stepped outside with Maxwell,” Elias says.

I glance sharply at him, finding him smirking.

“Reading facial expressions comes handy in my job.”

I scoff.

“Scaring everyone in a five mile radius?” I slap my hand over my mouth.

Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?

Elias barks out a laugh.

“I get it now.”

Huh?

What does he get because I’m not sure what’s going on?

“What do you mean?”

“Ethan loves you. You’re the light he needs. I’ve always wondered about the woman who held his heart for all these years. He’d deny it, saying there was no one. But I knew he was lying.”

There’s a strange solemnness in his voice, and I glance at him.

He’s wearing a pained smile on his face.

“Ethan’s a good friend. Sometimes, when I look at him, it almost seems like I’m looking in the mirror. I want him to be happy.”

Elias’s words are nonsensical, like he doesn’t believe he himself can be happy.

It’s rather sad.

“Anyway, I’m helping him with his investigation. Ethan’s concerned about your safety because of the case he’s working on. I thought I’d talk to you—get your perspective. Like I said, I believe in women’s intuition.”

I scrutinize the man.

I believe in gut feelings, and perhaps it’s the small sliver of vulnerability he’s just shown me or how Ethan, my siblings, and my friends all seem to trust him, but I decide to take a leap of faith.

“Is this about Dayton?”

“Yes. I’m helping Ethan run things down and I want to do my due diligence.”

My fingers twitch at my sides.

“Everything’s been normal. Dayton texted a few times to check in after the cruise, but I’ve brushed him off. Nothing strange.”

“Hm. Interesting. Have you had any more visions or memories?”

I shake my head, the unease winding around my gut in tighter and tighter circles.

What is this random line of questioning?

“You know something, don’t you?”

“Not definitive. Just a hunch. The evidence tells me one thing, but it makes little sense.”

He steps into my vision, a lock of dark hair draping over his forehead, and hands me a thick business card.

“Here’s my info. Call me if anything comes up. Anytime. I’m glad things are okay for you. ”

Without waiting for my response, he slips away, soon blending with the dark shadows in the club.

Frowning, I eye the simple black card with gold lettering.

Elias Kent and his phone number.

“What’s that?” Ethan asks, and I jump.

“Dammit, you and Elias should be twins. You guys walk with no sound.”

“Elias?”

“He asked if I felt safe and if I remembered anything. It was strange. Then he gave me his card and said to call him if anything came up.” I show him the card before slipping it inside my clutch.

“I swear I don’t know what goes on in that guy’s head,” Ethan murmurs, staring at Dayton and Trey in the distance.

“But I’m glad he’s looking out for you. Elias has helped our family a few times. He may be dangerous, but he’s good to us.”

Suddenly, Dayton and Trey laugh before they clink their glasses together.

Then Trey looks up and catches Ethan’s eyes.

I see him dip his head in a brief nod before striding off.

Ethan relaxes and tugs me flushed against him.

The lighting dims in the club, and I gasp at the sudden display of twinkling lights on the walls and around the stage.

“They’re constellations.” Ethan presses his lips against my ear.

“People pay for out of the box experiences at The Orchid.”

Three spotlight turn on, illuminating the center stage and the surrounding floating stages.

The music changes into a new sultry beat.

The opening burlesque show is starting.

Ethan takes my hand and pulls me inside the closest circular pod.

He winks. “I reserved a pod for us. Ready for your first Rose floor experience?”