Shit, this might actually be Maddox’s hat. He probably wore it the last night he came to the club with Alissa. Rouge probably threw it in this corner.
All the more reason for Bianca to don it tonight.
She looks at herself in the mirror. “I look like I’m about to play Sally Bowls in Cabaret.”
“And maybe this time, you’ll get lucky.” I plant a kiss on her, grind my crotch into hers.
Her face flushes. “I’d love to, Harrison. But we both know we don’t have time.”
“Right.” Blue balls for me then. But I’ll deal. My boner will go down once I’m focused on playing the role of the Ace. Especially if another older guy comes on to me. “How much time do we have?”
She checks her watch. “None. The doors should be opening as we speak.”
Damn. Time really does fly when you’re in the company of a beautiful woman.
It’s been a full fucking day. Only a few hours ago I was swinging down a hotel balcony on a rope of bedsheets. Then I stabbed a guy in the eye with a fountain pen.
But like I told Bianca at the library, I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant meeting her. Caring for her. Loving her. Making love with her.
She gives me one more smooch on the cheek, her eyes fiery. “You’re on, Ace.”
I kiss her hand. “Yes, my Queen.”
She grins and then pushes me out of her dressing room. I quickly—but not too quickly—make a beeline to the Clubs section. Mr. Night catches me and his eyes widen temporarily, but then he simply bows his head.
I have a feeling he’s playing a part, too. A part I don’t quite understand, but I’m ninety percent sure he’s on my side. He’ll have to be if we’re going to pull this off.
I glance around the club. Rouge isn’t here, at least as far as I can tell. Maybe she’s at one of her other clubs tonight. I hope so. The night will be a lot less complicated if I don’t have to dodge her the whole time I’m here.
“Ace, over here!” A man calls out.
I look up and meet the gaze of a middle-aged man sitting in one of the green leather chairs in Clubs smoking a cigarette.
It’s showtime.
23
BIANCA
It’s showtime.
I open my dressing room door and march over to the stage in Hearts. My band—minus Pierce still—is waiting. They greet me not with smiles but with stony stares.
They know I’m to blame, at least in part, for Pierce’s disappearance. Best case scenario, he was fired. Worst case, he’s pushing up daisies in some field by the airport.
Just before I ascend the steps to the stage, Jack waylays me, his eyes wide.
He can’t speak, of course. We’re on Aces property.
But I place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to make sure you’re safe when you get back to the hotel tonight.”
He presses his lips together.
“Hey, Jack!” a patron shouts.
He glances her way, nodding, and then turns back to me.
“I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
