Page 11 of Play With Me
“Now, now, Mellie. The detective comes highly recommended. We don’t want to waste any more time searching for someone else,” Mick soothes.
He pulls contracts from his briefcase, sliding them across the table to the three men. Larry, Paul, and Captain Krowder stand and make small talk about logistics with Mick. I watch as Anders takes in every single word of the papers he’s signing with complete efficiency.
“There’s a show tonight at the club. We put one on monthly. It’s basically an…open invitation for those who wish to watch or be watched. The rest of the club isn’t nearly as busy, so it’s a good opportunity to familiarize yourself with the place,” I explain.
I hate that I notice the way Anders’ pen freezes over the paper when I sayopen invitation. I hate that he’s a judgmental prick. I hate that he took the job.
And I hate that despite all those things, I still want to ride his fucking handsome face.
Martin and Nikolai get the address and disappear. Captain Krowder disappears to who knows where. Mick asks if I’ll be alright without him, before going with Paul and Larry to Paul’s office to discuss things that have more to do with politicsthan the club, leaving Anders and me in the meeting room.
Not wanting to have the inevitable conversation we’re bound to have, I scoot the chair back and rise to leave. However, his chuckle keeps my feet rooted as soon as I turn my back. “I knew you were too good to be true.”
Sighing, I spin around. “And I knew you were just a cocky asshole with an average dick and something to prove.”
His eyes darken as he stands, stalking toward me in a way that sets my senses on fire as quickly as lighting a match. “There’s nothing average about my dick, and you know that,Mellie.”
“Don’tcall me that,” I snap, putting my hands on my hips.
“Why not?” He stops when the toes of his shiny new Oxfords touch the black pointed toes of my stilettos. “Is that nickname reserved for the senator? Are you his mistress?”
Suddenly, my palm stings and shock shines in his eyes. I don’t even remember moving my hand. My reaction is as good as an admission. “How dare you.”
Anders walks forward, forcing me backward until I feel the cool glass wall of the meeting room at my back. “Did you just strike a member of law enforcement?” he asks. His breath smells like spearmint gum as it fans over my face.
“What are you going to do about it, smooth guy?Handcuff me?” I don’t mean for my words to sound playful, but they do. Anders’ eyes drift down to my lips, and I can see the memories of last night play out in them as he leans forward.
My breathing grows shallow, chest heaving against his as a few locks of his hair brush against my forehead. “I wouldn’t touch your tainted flesh again, even if you paid me,” he whispers the words the way a lover would tell you he loves you in the throes of passion.
My palm twitches to strike him again, but instead, I push him away roughly and turn to leave. “Fuck you, Anders.”
He laughs. “You already did,Mellie.Don’t let your senator find out.”
Anders
Whatever address was given to Martin and Nikolai, it isn’t the same as the one that was given to me. Mine leads me to a darkened dry cleaner business—obviously closed, and obviouslynota sex club. Per the instructions, I press the small white button next to the door. A light clicks on and a burly man with long hair, a braided beard, and a black mask that covers his eyes appears from the back to unlock it for me.
A faint red glow appears in the back of the space, coming from an open door leading to a brick hallway. After he shuts and relocks the door, he turns to me and holds out a mask like his, voice gruff with a faint southern twang as he says, “Name’s Ray. Rules are rules. I know what you’re here for, so no intake for you. Wear the mask at all times. Don’t touch the Angels, not even the ones that want to be touched.”
“Angels?” He leads me to the hall, where numerous other doors lead to who knows where. I make a mental note to find out just how big this place is and how many other businesses it can be accessed from. It’s dark, and anyone could easily slip in and out without being seen. Tying the mask around my eyes, I check out the ceiling and corners of the walls, searching for any type of surveillance.
Ray lets out a deep, throaty chuckle. “The bosses didn’t prepare you for shit, did they? I’ll take you to Luca. He can sort you out.”
Luca. Carmela mentioned him earlier about being as good as a bodyguard, but he’s the son of someone she and the senator are at odds with. Between leaving headquarters, and waiting to come to Désirer, I did my homework—pulled files on the Morronis and their other silent partner, Jackson Tailor. Pieced together that Morroni was doing back alley deals through the club, and Mick didn’t want to be involved with it, so he cut him loose before bringing Jackson’s deceased uncle into the fold. Since the club is being protected by upper law enforcement, it was the perfect place for Morroni to run his shady deals. I didn’t blame Mick for wanting to cut ties, but I’m curious as to why Carmela thought she needed to keep his men around—specifically Luca.
“The other two are already off exploring. Got themselves their own set of angel wings somehow, been funnier than hell watching them all night,” Raystates as we come to the end of the hall, where there’s a heavy dark door.
For some reason, this guy knows who Martin, Nikolai, and I are when there’s no need to—just another tick on my mental list of things to look into or bring up to Carmela. The less people who know about us, the better. She heard the guys. They can’t besilent assassinsif everyone is in the know.
Music pumps through the door as soon as Ray opens it. It’s not very loud, but I can still hear it over the crowd bustling about the space we’ve just walked into. I think I get the concept of theAngelsas I follow Ray slowly. There are women and men dressed in lingerie, wearing feathery wings on their backs. Some are light gold, some are black, but the majority of them are platinum-colored. I’m guessing these are the people who work here since that’s the main thing setting them apart from the patrons who are dressed in everything from lingerie to business casual attire.
“This here’s the Grand Room. It’s where everyone congregates before going on their way for the evening.” Ray lifts a hand and motions to someone at the giant oval bar in the middle of the room while I take in the rest of the place. It’s all brown furniture and muted red walls, a somewhat achromatic palette so the Angels can shine.
IfeelLuca’s presence behind me before turning my attention to him. He’s six feet like I am, butbigger.I pride myself on my body—working out, andtaking care of myself—but the muscle mass this man carries would slow me down while in the field. He’s dressed in all black leather—pants and a vest just like Ray, with a simple mask tied around his brown eyes.
“No one filled him in on how we run things around here. Figured you can be the one to do it since you know it better than anyone,” Ray tells him.
Luca sizes me up before jerking his head toward the bar, his deep voice booming around us without effort. “What’s your drink of choice?”