Those were the American businessmen then.
Scarlett hadn’t broken their enchantment with her during her last show; only the vampires and the Russians had lost interest, except the one who held her in his thoughts. Lev, the fucking assassin.
The one good that came from Everett’s discovery of our secret nightlife was that he was able to tell us what Nemours had told them. Therattohad refused to give Scarlett’s name—though he had no choice with Lev, the assassin knew all it seemed. The highly valuable contract would go to the highest bidder, and as part of the agreement, not even the new owner could release her identity. This was not done out of respect for her. Nemours knew it upped the mystique.
Nemours itched to be free of the contract. Scarlett was his golden goose, and with only a year left to the deal, he couldn’t pay off what he owed his French investors. They had caught wind of the situation and started frothing at the mouth. However, if he sold her contract, only a year’s worth, he would be debt-free, with some to spare.
Everett had met Nemours in Paris previously, so Travis was in the midst of attempting to buy him out. There was only one problem with this situation, other than Travis the coward being the proxy: another unidentified man had bid against him. Nemours refused to reveal the man’s identity.
Rocco continued to search for a loophole in the contract—the idea that he might sell never occurred to any of us, Nemours included, at the time.
I took my seat between Rocco and Maggie Beautiful. Aberto Colombo sat next to her. Mitch sat next to him.
Maggie Beautiful touched my arm and nodded toward Mitch, who nodded toward Violet, who looked up at a man, running a hand through her hair every so often, laughing at whatever he was saying.
Mick didn’t look pleased. Neither did Mitch.
“Is she busy tonight? After the show? I came all the way here to see her,” the man was saying. He looked familiar. He was built like an all-American athlete. Over six feet tall, he was about an inch taller than me. He sat with the businessmen. Or the perverts, as Everett had called them. One of them called his name—John—and he told them he’d be right there.
His team dawned on me then. He was a professional football player, a hot-shot who started making a seven-figure income straight out of college.
Violet looked toward me and pointed. The man met my eye and nodded. Then he came over to shake my hand. “John Taylor. I came here to see Scarlett.”
“Brando Fausti. Scarlett’s husband.”
Violet popped up next to him, smiling. “When Scarlett did the ad for American Sportswear, John was doing one of his own.”
I got the picture already, and I had the urge to tell him that this was no ice cream truck, and there was no fucking number to get in line. But I wasn’t the kind of man to waste my breath on useless chatter. Actions spoke louder than words.
“Your wife is—” he turned toward the stage and whistled “—she’s one hell of an athlete. I watched her dance during her shoot. Impressive. Thought I’d take in the show and see her live again.”
I studied him a bit harder, then turned to catch Everett’s eye for the briefest of seconds. This bastard was the one bidding to win her contract.
“John,” I said, grinning a bit. “You look familiar.”
He smiled back and told me that he was a quarterback for a famous football team.
“Nah,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “That’s not it.” I clicked my fingers. “Last night. I didn’t recognize you without your mask.”
“Oh. You were there?”
“Yeah, with my father in law and brother in law. Everett Poésy and Travis Becker. My brothers—Rocco, Dario, and Romeo.”
John nodded at each of them. All of them nodded back. Travis turned to face the stage after. The rest of the men kept their eyes on John.
“Sexy show, am I right?” I went to nudge him, and he laughed.
“Yeah, man. That woman—whoever sheis—can move.” He whistled low. “Except the end there. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Me either,” I said.
“Yeah, but it didn’t deter me.” He winked.
“No?”
“Nah. I’m a football player. I’m in a nasty business myself. And personally, the freakier the better.” His top lip curled over his straight white teeth. He looked around, making sure none of his friends could hear. “Are you going to—ah—bid for the contract?”
I nodded toward the stage. “I don’t need to. I have Scarlett.”
