Page 4 of Wicked Games

“Banks,” I groused into the phone. “I need to sleep so I can be at my best tonight.”

“Rough getting old, isn’t it?” my boss countered.

Rough would be my fist smashing his porcelain-veneers once I finally got out from under his control. It would fucking happen, but until then, I’d play the part of his submissive servant well. “Something like that,” I murmured.

“Lucky, are you sure you’re up to this job? We can’t afford any distractions.” It wasn’t the first time he expressed concern about my capability to pull off a job, but all the other times involved the presence of a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed man I couldn’t forget no matter how hard I tried. Banks hadn’t said anything about Ryder working at the target museum, but something was clearly up. I decided to familiarize myself with the staff even though Deverish obtained all the details we needed to recover the fanyi ritual wine vessel before he broke his leg in a freak accident. Banks had made it clear to me I wasn’t his first choice for the mission, but Diggs was entrenched too deep in his current assignment to take over for Deverish.

Ryder.My heart raced with the possibility of seeing him again, but my gut painfully clenched because there was no way it would be a happy reunion. “I got this, Banks. Unless there’s something you haven’t told me.”

“I wouldn’t keep pertinent information from you, Lucky. Get in, get out, and get home.”

Home.I didn’t know the meaning of the word anymore. There were grand structures with immaculately designed rooms where I could lay my head at night, but I’d never call them home. The only time I’d ever felt at home was in Paris with Ryder. It wasn’t the gorgeous city, Ryder’s tiny flat, or even the luxurious hotel room that had made me feel like I could finally let down my guard and breathe; it was Ryder. His heart was the only home I had ever known and ever wanted.

“Will do, boss. Now, if you don’t mind…”

“Yeah, I know. You want your beauty rest. Be sure to set the alarm,” Banks said like I was an unruly child who couldn’t be trusted to get out of bed and dress himself.

“On it.” I hung up without so much as a goodbye.

Moments before, my eyes had been hooded and heavy with pending sleep, but I now found myself wide awake, wondering if it were possible. Was Ryder in Cincinnati? There was no hope for me going to sleep without knowing one way or the other. I pulled up the website for the Cincinnati Art Museum and looked through the pages lauding the staff’s qualifications and passion for the arts. I couldn’t find a picture of Ryder anywhere, but maybe this museum didn’t include information about their conservators. I began looking online at recently published articles on conserving and restoring art in the local papers and found a few with his name listed as the author. I googled his name and the museum together and found a brief article announcing that the Queen City’s very own Ryder Jameson had returned home to work as a director of art conservation at the museum where at least one of his family members had presided as a trustee dating back to its inception. I learned the current family member on the board was his mother, Celeste. The article detailed some of Ryder’s education and extensive training, but most of it was about his mother and her role as a trustee. I noticed the article wasn’t printed in the arts section of the paper; it was part of the society pages.

“How odd,” I said out loud. “Ryder isn’t listed on the museum’s site with other directors and the museum has never formally announced his employment. Were they ashamed of him?” I knew the answer to the question just as I knew the reason behind their decision. Shame washed over me.I’m sorry, Ryder.My apology didn’t seem like much of a consolation considering I destroyed his faith in humanity and possibly ruined his life.

Exhaustion finally overpowered my remorse, and I drifted to sleep for a few hours. I felt the opposite of refreshed when I woke up and as ravenous as if I hadn’t eaten a few hours earlier. I knew going to the gala event at the museum wasn’t a good idea, and it wasn’t part of my game plan, because Deverish had already obtained everything the team needed to recover the vessel after the gala ended. All I had to do was sit and wait, but I couldn’t. Included in the portfolios Dev had left for me in the glove box of the car was a ticket for the black-tie affair. I hadn’t packed a suit and either had to go with a more casual look or charge one to the credit card that came with my latest identity. If I did, Banks would likely be alerted, and he’d know why I was buying the suit.

I looked at the few things I’d packed and decided the black, V-neck sweater and charcoal gray pants would need to suffice. I knew fully well clothes didn’t make the man. I could walk into the gala wearing the fluffy bathrobe hanging in my hotel bathroom and make the attendees believe I belonged. It was all in the way a man carried himself.

I treated myself to barrel-cut filet with a cognac peppercorn sauce and lobster tail at Jeff Ruby’s Steakhouse on Walnut Street before heading to the museum for the gala. The stately building with its grand staircase and tall columns was illuminated by large floodlights reminiscent of something you would’ve seen at an old Hollywood movie premiere. Hell, the museum had even rolled out a red carpet for the attendees to walk, lending importance and sophistication to the evening.

I was careful to avoid photographers who were on hand to commemorate the evening for the rich and the connected. I handed my invitation to an attendant then snatched a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter whose smile indicated I could have whatever I might like. I ignored his offer and kept walking until I found the perfect spot to keep an eye on the door as well as the activity on the first floor and the beautiful double staircase leading up to the second story.

I watched in awe as a young woman wearing a butchered couture gown, black stockings, and biker boots mingled through the crowds with her head held high. She dared anyone to sneer at her and smiled smugly when no one took the challenge. I didn’t know the young lady, but I had behaved in a similarly brash way when I was younger, and it nearly cost me everything. She must have sensed my regard because she turned her head in my direction once she reached the bottom of the steps. Her light blue eyes twinkled with mirth when I raised my glass in a silent salute. It wasn’t smart of me to engage with anyone in the crowd, but I couldn’t resist. Rather than head in my direction, she pivoted and headed up the grand staircase.

I watched the people milling around, hoping for a chance to see Ryder without him noticing my presence. It turned out to be an easy thing to do with so many people checking out the displays set up to showcase the local art talent. I knew by the way my hair stood up on the back of my neck Ryder was near before I even saw him. I hardly recognized the distant, unapproachable man standing on the second floor observing the crowd below him. Tucked away in a quiet corner, I observed his mother approaching him and noticed he didn’t look pleased about whatever they discussed. It wasn’t long before the lady with the jagged pink dress joined them, and I realized her twinkling blue eyes were nearly identical to Ryder’s. She had to be his sister. They spoke for a few minutes before the lady accepted a drink and disappeared from my sight, leaving me to catalog the myriad of changes I saw in Ryder.

The man I fell in love with always wore a carefree, charming smile on his handsome face; the man I still loved scowled at everyone except the young lady in the pink dress. His posture was stiff and unyielding instead of warm and inviting. Guilt burned in my gut like cheap booze because I was the reason for his misery.

In Paris, we’d been too busy having sex to do much talking. At the time, I was fine with it because my cover story only went so deep, and if Ryder had gone digging, he could’ve discovered Sebastian Deveraux wasn’t real. In Cairo, well… It wasn’t much different from Paris except our time together was shorter. I regretted knowing nothing about Ryder as I watched him speak to his mother and sister.

After a few minutes of solitude, Ryder made his way down the stairs and walked over to a couple who were so lost in conversation they hadn’t heard him approach. The trio’s exchange was brief and somewhat awkward before Ryder excused himself with a polite but cool smile and headed away from the crowd. Rather than follow him, I decided to hang out and see if he returned. Surely, he wasn’t leaving so early in the evening? I continued people watching until I realized at least forty minutes had passed without Ryder returning. He’d seemed upset, and the urge to assure myself he was okay was stronger than the voice inside my head screaming for me to leave the museum and come back when it was time to recover the wine vessel. I didn’t listen, but I never did when it came to Ryder Jameson.

On the way up the ornate steps, I literally ran into the two men I saw Ryder speaking to earlier. They both looked disheveled and aroused, which explained the hastiness of their steps. The guys were nearly the same height, and both had dark hair, but that was where the similarities ended. One had an olive-toned complexion and dark eyes and the other was fair with pale green eyes. They made a striking couple.

“Pardon me,” I said. “I’m looking for someone. I saw him speaking to you earlier. Tall, blond hair, and blue eyes. His name is Ryder Jameson.”

“We haven’t seen him since we spoke to him down in the Great Hall,” replied the guy with dark eyes.

“Damn,” I said, noting I sounded irritated. “Thank you, anyway.”

Deverish had left behind detailed blueprints and notes, so I knew where to find the offices of the various directors unless they’d hidden Ryder’s desk in an unmarked broom closet someplace. Even then, Dev was so thorough he would’ve memorized and marked the locations of the broom closets in case he needed to duck inside one to avoid detection. I found the office for the director of art conservation, but I didn’t need the sign on the door to tell me where Ryder was. I heard his voice and recognized the sounds he made when he was enjoying a hard fuck. My heart fell to my stomach, but I deserved nothing less. From the corner of my eye, I saw a tall, svelte woman with long, curly black hair quickly exiting an office at the far end of the hall from Ryder’s. She wore a floor-length, scarlet dress which clung to her legs and hips, leaving nothing to the imagination. I’d recognize her confident, sexy walk anywhere. The woman stopped when she reached the corner of the hallway and glanced over her shoulder. I fucking knew it. The cocky smile on her crimson-painted lips meant a big headache for me and even bigger trouble for Old World Antiquities.

Ignoring my instinct to confront Ryder, I went in pursuit of the woman in scarlet, knowing it was futile. Sure enough, the hallway was empty by the time I turned the corner she had rounded less than a minute before me.Fuck me.

THE BALCONY OF MY HIGH-RISEapartment afforded a splendid nighttime view of the bridges Cincinnati was best known for, but I’d stared at the lights so long everything had gone out of focus for me. All I saw were blurred dots against an inky, dark sky. I heard life all around me, from the cars honking on the streets below to the laughter of two of my favorite people coming from my apartment, but I felt far removed from all of it. Isolated. Alone.

The sliding glass doors opened behind me then came the hesitant steps of someone who wasn’t sure if they should intrude upon my solitude. A spicy, rich-smelling cologne mingled with the rich tobacco scent of the celebratory cigar I held firmly between my index and middle fingers.

“I wasn’t aware you smoked cigars,” Trent said, stepping up beside me. He turned and leaned his back against the rail and looked at me. I could feel him searching my closed expression for clues. “It’s a bit nippy out here, isn’t it?”