The name jogs my memory. Arturo Morales. The youngest son of Esteban Morales, a popular movie star who owes his career to Dad. Esteban is a womanizer—just like Dad—and his sons seem to be competing to see who can screw more women than their father.
Arturo moves closer. Before he can hug her, I draw Molly toward me and wrap a possessive arm around her shoulders.No way you’re touching my girl. Arturo probably breathes STDs. I’m not letting him put his filthy, diseased hands on my Molly.
She gives me a curious look, but remains flush by my side. The feel of her soft body pressed against me is soothing. But if I were a wolf, I’d be baring my teeth at Arturo.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, looking him up and down.
I resist the urge to put a hand over her eyes. “You know this guy?” Esteban and his boys hang out with certain types, which Molly—thankfully—doesn’t fit.
“Sure. He’s the new personal trainer I told you about. You know, the one who took me to lunch?”
Thisis the asshole? He got cookies out of her for it, too. She told me she took some to work to share with him, although I bet they weren’t what he really wanted to eat. “What are you doing working at a gym? Don’t you have money from your father?” My tone might be smooth, but my eyes are mocking.
Arturo’s face twists with disgust. “Nah, bro. He cut me off for six months.”
“Get your dick stuck in a goat’s ass?” Arturo’s older brother supposedly had that happen. A few badly focused pictures went viral a couple of years ago, and Esteban wasn’t amused. Noah, who brought it to all of our attention at a brunch, wanted to know why people didn’t buy phones with better cameras.
Molly gapes, while Arturo turns red. He gives me a why-you-gotta-bring-that-up? glare. “I totaled a brand-new Lambo.”
“Too bad it didn’t total your dick,” I mutter.
“It wasn’t a big deal, bro. The cops didn’t say anything.” His eyes are on Molly, gauging her reaction. He must not like what he’s seeing. “Anyway, it was good seeing you, Molly. We’ll catch up later.”
“Yeah, sure.” She waves.
He struts away like he owns the hotel. He probably doesn’t feel particularly ashamed of his behavior—or his family’s. Money and fame tend to put a thick coat of Teflon over you.
I grab a couple of flutes from a server and hand one to Molly. “Just how closely do you work with him?”
“Not very. I’m an accountant, and he’s a trainer. I spend most of my time in my little office.” She sips her champagne. “Did he do something to you?”
“Yes.”He breathes near you.
“Oh. But you aren’t, like, enemies or anything…?”
“No.” If I considered him my enemy, he’d be dead…at least figuratively. Hopefully he’s at the tail end of the six months of punishment, so he’ll quit his gig at the gym soon. “Let’s introduce you to the hostess, by the way. She should be around. She likes to personally say hello to everyone who attends.”
We wander around a bit and soon find Elizabeth Pryce-King talking to a small group of businessmen. She’s a pretty blonde with sleet-colored eyes and an angelic smile that never fails to put you at ease. When she speaks to you, it’s as though you’re the absolute center of her universe. It’s a trick Mom can do when she puts her mind to it, but with Elizabeth there’s no whimsy or over-the-top drama. She’s in a modestly cut white dress that still manages to show off the lean lines of her body. She excels at navigating the line between classy and sexy.
Given the enormous charitable projects she’s spearheaded, some believe she’s a saint walking among us, but I don’t buy that. She runs her foundation with an iron fist—a charitable iron fist, but an iron fist nonetheless. A woman who was merely nice wouldn’t be able to manage it. Her family’s foundation is one of a few charities I don’t mind giving money to because most of the funds actually go toward helping the needy, rather than paying for overhead and cushy salaries.
She excuses herself and turns to us. “Nicholas! So nice to see you. And who is this lovely woman?” She turns to Molly. “I’m Elizabeth Pryce-King. Nice to meet you.”
“Molly Greene. A pleasure.”
They shake hands.
“Oh yes, I heard about you from Aunt Ceinlys. She’s around here somewhere. She’d probably like to say hello again.”
Molly flushes. “She was very kind to me earlier.”
“You didn’t tell me you met her.” I’m relieved that Molly had a good interaction with Ceinlys, who wields enormous influence. If she deems you boorish, social life in the upper crust can be difficult. I make a mental note to thank her for being nice to my Molly.
“You didn’t ask.” She gives me a sly grin.
Elizabeth smiles. “If she liked you, so will my uncle.”
I’d be on the alert if I’d heard this a few years back. But Salazar Pryce has reformed himself, so he no longer tries to screw every female he sees. Dad could benefit from spending some time with him.
