ProbablyOld Money.
But definitelyA Lot of Money.
Wealth.
Wealthy people with so much money that they didn’t want to stay where the celebrities did because they did not desire to be seen.
At the desk, the attendant smiled serenely at the two of them. “Welcome to the Baccarat Hotel. Mr. Moore, how lovely to see you again. And you’ll be staying with us for a week?”
After their phones had been keyed to open the suite, a bellhop led them up to a crystal-encrusted suite. Inside, every surface held a crystal candy dish or votive lamps, and matching bathtub-size chandeliers like glass-scaled Cthulhu-dragons dripping with frosted glass daggers hung over the dining table, living room sitting area, and king-size bed in the bedroom.
“What did you say the name of this hotel was?” Nicole asked him.
“The Baccarat. Yes, just like the crystal. It’s very French, but the service and the spa are incomparable. And the food, of course. We have an hour before our reservations downstairs.”
“Do you bring all your mistresses here?”
“Of course not. One takes one’s mistresses to the RH Guest House. Very discreet. No photos allowed.”
She turned and stared at him. “That just rolled off your tongue.”
He laughed. “I was wondering whether you’d catch it.”
“Do you have a mistress? Is it me? Am I the mistress?” She made it sound like a joke.
He walked over to her and smiled down at her, placating her. “You’re not a mistress. I’m not married and never have been. Even relationships have been few and not recently.”
She squinted up at him. “That’s what all the married guys say.”
His expression softened. “Did someone say that to you?”
“Oh, once.” She flipped her hand like she was flipping off nothing that mattered. “But it was a few years ago, and I don’t want to kill him anymore. Mostly.”
His eyes took on that blue-fire devilish sparkle. “Is that why you started buying medieval weapons a few years ago? To murder this knave who dared treat such a beautiful woman so badly?”
Um,yeah,it matched up, but she hadn’t thought of it that way. “Well, I started buying them when I graduated and passed the PE exam, so I had real money for the first time.That’swhy I started collecting them, not to kill that other guy.”
She had bought that first steel dagger quite soon after she’d figured out Jackass Face was a cheater and dumped him hard.
Weird. Huh.
“Tell you what, if we ever run into him, I’ll kill him for you.” Kingston lifted her hand and brushed his lips against her palm, then her wrist. “I would never want you to soil these beautiful little hands with blood.”
Lethal violence seemed excessive, probably, at least practically. “You would?”
He looked up from her wrist, almost vampiric as he gazed at her, and his voice was lower. “Try me.”
She knew he was kidding, or at least being chivalric, but she was turned on.
Which was probably why he’d said it.
He straightened and lifted her chin, kissing her. “Do you want to be late for our supper reservations?” he whispered.
“That seems rude,” she whispered back.
“Then we’d better hurry.” He grabbed her hand and lifted it over her head, twirling her away from him like a ballerina to face the bedroom. “Go.”
She began walking away through the living room populated with exquisite vases and cut-crystal bottles, and she passed a wet bar with glass shelves loaded with amazing glassware, wine glasses with blue crystal bowls and silver stems and highball glasses like ice sculptures.
