The lower we went, the louder the music and hum of conversation became. Jameson held up his watch and then his palm for a scanner to allow access. Then, large double doors opened, and there before us was an extravagant ballroom lit with glimmering sconces and chandeliers that seemed to sparkle just as the Chicago city lights had. Carvings on the walls seemed to represent Paradise Grove with vines that grew up from them, giving it a historic feel.
Tables were set with linens and candles that flickered in the low lighting.
This wasn’t just a meeting. It was a whole event, and even if Jameson was wearing his leather jacket and other men had helmets under their arms, they all dripped luxury.
Money.
Power.
Women and men milled about, but Jameson steered me to a center table where others gathered in suits, leather, and dresses that sparkled. Valerie was the first to beeline to Jameson, even with another man on her arm. As a waiter walked by, he pulled out my chair without a word. I sat down immediately, not wanting to eavesdrop on whatever she had to say.
Thankfully, Rosy, Olive, Pink, and their partners swarmed in around me. Callahan sat down right next to me. “Can’t escape us now. Want champagne or whiskey?”
“We all want tequila,” Pink grumbled as she plopped down on the other side of me. “I heard I missed the action last night.”
“It’s not fun action when bullets are involved, Bianca.” Bane frowned at her.
“Oh, speak for yourself. We never see that type of good action anymore.”
“You get enough action,” he murmured as he gripped her neck, and the blush on her cheeks showed she did.
A raspy laugh came from Valerie, and she touched Jameson’s chest before he nodded at her and the man she was with. Rosy put a hand on my shoulder as she bent toward me to whisper, “I’ll get us two flutes of champagne … each.”
Jameson grumbled at Pink to move over and then sat down next to me, but another man walked up and said, “Sorry to hear about last night. Won’t happen again.”
“Better not,” was all my boss said.
But he wasn’t just my boss. I found out he wastheboss. Every billionaire, celebrity, and politician gravitated toward him. It was like there was a silent queue to speak with him, and every time one person stepped away, another one stepped up to take their place. They looked glamorous and like they were all having fun, but their smiles were thin and strategic, all while men in black suits and earpieces subtly kept their eyes on everything.
This wasn’t a party. It was a syndicate event.
Even as our food was served, even as someone’s voice was overheard welcoming everyone, nothing of importance was discussed. The real dealings happened in whispered conversations, in handshakes, and over dinner.
I didn’t catch much of any of it. I only heard snippets of Jameson’s conversations as I made note of how security was hidden, but it seemed ironclad—from the scanners allowing us in to the armed men to the cameras blinking in the light fixtures. And still, I felt most safe at his side, especially when I felt constant eyes on me even while Jameson’s hand rubbed my thigh back and forth, back and forth.
That steady pressure of his large hand and how his palm dragged up further, closer and closer to my panty line, had me grounded even while I was surrounded by sharks and wolves. Men and women with this much power could sniff out blood, weakness, and opportunity in less than ten seconds. And maybe Jameson was the most dangerous one of all, because I didn’t concentrate on anything but his touch, on the low hum of his voice, on how the heat of his body near mine warmed my skin.
I was hyperaware of how he drew circles on me, almost thoughtlessly, like we’d been together for years even though we weren’t really together at all. But his touch was a test and a tease as his fingers grazed close to my panty line, like he was measuring how far he could go before I’d stop him.
All the way was the answer. I let him brush against the wet material and sipped my champagne when his eyes left the man talking to him to snare my gaze in his. He leaned in and whispered, “I’m fucking you tonight, Mia Darling. So don’t drink another.”
And then his hand left my thigh so he could stand. Another man, bulkier than most with blond shaggy hair, approached uson Valerie’s arm. The man’s smile was smarmy as he glanced our way. “Sorry to hear about the club.”
“Are you?” Jameson asked, and I saw how his tone was measured, taking in the man’s movements.
“Of course.” He laughed, glancing around like he wanted to make sure he could make a quick exit if need be. “I think O’Connor’s men just wanted to talk to Pink and Olive, but—”
Olive was quick to cut in from the table. “Trent, you want to talk to a Diamond, you make a meeting with us.”
Trent’s tone and posture changed as he stared down at her. “Well, you haven’t taken a meeting with any of them as of late, Mrs. Hardy. Is it because your loyalties shifted to your husband rather than the Diamond legacy?”
Jameson rocked back on his heels. “Watch how you talk to her, Trent. She may afford you leeway because of how long you’ve been a Diamond, but I don’t give a fuck.”
Trent’s composure was slipping. His face reddened, and he seemed to almost puff up in place as he growled, “Dalton and I deserve a little bit more respect, Jameson. I worked for your and Olive’s father for years—”
“That doesn’t afford you respect. It just makes me question your loyalties.”
“Loyalty?” he blubbered. “To who? I’ve always wanted what’s best for us. You think she does?” He pointed a thick finger at Olive, who just rolled her eyes like she didn’t have time for his outburst.
