Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I rise, staring Pia down. “How about you get the hell out of here?”
“I was about to say the same to you.” She grabs my arm, digs her long fingernails into my flesh. “My friend and I had the loveliest time with your so-called boyfriend just a few weeks ago. It was a cold January night, but we warmed his bed right up.”
That actually hurts.
Logically, I know that I have nothing to fear from this woman. At least, I know she’s not a threat to my relationship with Maddox. In terms of whether she could beat me into a pulp, she could be.
I grab her hair and pull it.
She screams.
Rouge grins. She’s enjoying the spectacle. It probably isn’t often that a brawl breaks out at Aces.
Clearly, she wants a show. And a bloody show I’ll give her.
I tackle Pia to the floor, and the crowd circles around us. She tries to get a punch in, but I keep her arms pinned to the ground, kicking at her legs with my feet.
I wore high heels tonight. I stretch my leg up and dig the heel into Pia’s thigh.
She cries out in pain.
Finally a strong pair of arms is on me, lifting me off the ground.
I turn to it, about to chastise Maddox for not taking this chance to go into Rouge’s office.
But it isn’t Maddox who’s pulling me off Pia.
It’s Chet.
I look around. Maddox took my hint. He slipped away while I was fighting with Pia.
“Miss Wonder, perhaps you should take a moment to cool down.”
“Get off me, Chet!”
I try to wiggle out of his grasp, but his grip on my arms remains firm.
“Thank you, Chet,” Rouge says. “I was worried that this might get out of hand.” She looks around. “Where did Mr. Hathaway go?”
Chet raises an eyebrow. “I believe he was grabbing Miss Wonder’s coat. They’ll be heading out.” He lets go of me and turns to Rouge. “But I do need to speak to you for a moment, Rouge. Somewhere private.”
She nods. “My office.”
Chet raises a hand. “I’d rather not meet there. We’ll just go into a private area.” His lips twist. “It won’t be a moment, I promise you.”
She narrows her eyes but then relents. “Fine.” She turns to me. “Ms. Maravilla, I hope you know that we have a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to physical altercations at Aces Underground.”
I brush myself off. “I didn’t see you stopping us.”
She chuckles. “In an outfit like mine? I don’t think I’d be very successful. That’s why I called Chet.”
“It took him several minutes to get here.” I meet her gaze. “Admit it. You were enjoying the spectacle.”
She widens her eyes, making the wings framing them take flight. “Nonsense. I loathe violence. Nothing upsets my poor heart more.”
I hold back a laugh. A woman who loathes violence would hardly behead one of her own employees for a simple violation of her absurd rules.
But I can’t let Rouge know I’m aware of that.
Not yet.
Not until Maddox reveals what we’re looking for.
Then we can put her behind bars for life.
35
MADDOX
Alissa’s a genius. That fight with Pia was the perfect cover for me to slip away into Rouge’s office. I’m able to slip in easily—she keeps it open during operating hours—without attracting the attention of any passersby. A lot of people are running to see the fight in the Diamonds section, and the people in Hearts—the closest to Rouge’s office door—have eyes only for each other.
Rouge’s office is decorated just as lavishly and obnoxiously as I imagined. The walls are upholstered in rich crimson velvet with gold trim. The lighting is deliberately low, with jewel-toned sconces shaped like inverted goblets casting a moody glow. A chandelier—massive, dripping with garnet and ruby crystal—hangs from the ceiling. The floor is dark mahogany, polished to a mirror finish and half-covered in layered Persian rugs in rich reds and golds. A decanter set rests on a bar cart in one corner.
Rouge's desk is lacquered cherry wood overlaid with red mother-of-pearl inlay. The legs are carved into sinuous curves like blooming roses. The desk accessories—penholder, paperweight, letter opener—are all gold and black. Behind the desk sits Rouge’s throne—a high-backed chair upholstered in crimson crushed velvet with clawed brass feet.
Interspersed through the office are curiosities, no doubt from Rouge’s travels to find waitstaff. There’s a Fabergé egg, a gold-dusted Venetian mask, a tiny carved obsidian panther. I look around for a knickknack that might be the writing raven from my father’s riddle, but no dice.
I’m also not seeing a way to get into Rouge’s private space where she and I fucked all those years ago. It must be through her office. The last thing I remember before those damned shrooms took hold was her escorting me into her office. There must be a hidden door somewhere.
I’ve seen it before. I close my eyes, try to remember… But I started hallucinating the moment I walked in her office.