Blue’s voice in my ear is pure, unadulterated command, and goddamn if it doesn’t send a jolt of arousal straight to my groin. I adjust my velvet lapel, checking my reflection in the glass of the double office doors that the head of security is reaching to open. The suit is impeccable. The hair is perfect. The grin? The grin is sharp enough to draw blood. I love it when she gets bossy. None of us should be surprised that Demi had her own plan all along. This girl has been twisting us up into pretzels since the moment we met her. It’s one of the reasons we fell so hard for her. I couldn’t weigh in with Thorne and Graves so close but I’ve always been a betting man and in this game I’m all in on our girl.
When Graves rushed over, interrupted us and whispered into her ear, her response was instant and my gut told me Demi had been burned somehow. Thorne had turned to me and tried to excuse herself.
I let the charming smile drop away, I just held her gaze, raising one eyebrow in a challenge, then turned my back on her and headed toward the side exit that leads to the terrace. It was a power move. It said,I have something you want, but you have to earn it. I only had to count to three to get what I wanted.
"Mr. Vane… Julian, please wait."
Her voice is smooth, cultivated, but I hear the edge of irritation.
I turned slowly. She’s followed me, not quite able to let the chance of the big cash injection slip away. Graves is a few steps back, his eyes scanning the perimeter, but he hasn't moved to intercept.
"Dr. Thorne," I say, giving her a lazy smile. "I was just leaving. Lovely party. A bit crowded for my taste, but lovely, and you appear to have more pressing things than me so…"
She steps closer, the scent of expensive lilies wafting off her. "Leaving so soon? We haven't had a chance to discuss that donation you mentioned. If you could just give me a moment. There’s been a small security alarm that requires my personal attention to deal with it."
"The eight-figure one?" I shrug, checking my Patek Philippe like I’m bored of this already. "I admit, I was intrigued but I’m a businessman, Aris. Can I call you Aris?" I don't wait for permission. "I don't write checks for twenty million dollars based on ice sculptures and canapés. I invest in infrastructure, in vision."
Her eyes widen slightly at the number. Twenty million. That’s the magic number Damon calculated would override her caution.
"I can assure you, our vision is unparalleled," she purrs, stepping right up to me. She rests a hand on my arm, her nails digging slightly into the velvet of my jacket. "And our infrastructure is state of the art."
"Is it?" I challenge, looking down at her. "Because all I’ve seen is a ballroom. I want to see the brain, not the face. I want to see where the decisions are made. I want to see the... what did you call it in your speech? The heart of the operation."
She hesitates. Her eyes flick toward Graves, then back to me. She’s calculating risk versus reward.
"My private office is restricted," she says slowly.
"And my checkbook is closed," I counter, turning away. "Have a good night, Doctor."
"Wait."
Her hand tightens on my arm. Greed. It’s the easiest lever to pull, and Aris Thorne is made of it.
"I can show you," she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. "But we have to be discreet. I can't have the other donors getting jealous."
I turn back, flashing the full-wattage dimples. "I love discreet."
She signals Graves. The security chief moves in instantly, his gaze hard on me.
"Ma'am?"
"I’m taking Mr. Vane up to the executive suite with us to check the alarm and then have a private conversation. I’m sure it’s nothing, just a small, inconvenient glitch." she tells him.
Graves frowns. "Dr. Thorne, protocol states—"
"Protocols are what I say they are, Graves," she snaps, the polished queen facade slipping just enough to show the tyrant underneath. "Mr. Vane is a VIP. If you don’t feel you’re adequate to protect us, then call your man, Graft."
Graves stiffens, his jaw working, but he nods. "Yes, ma'am." He shoots me a look that saysI’ll kill you if you twitch, but he steps back.
"Shall we?" She loops her arm through mine.
"Lead the way," I say.
As we walk toward the service elevator, I tap my ear casually. The elevator ride was short and tense as I listened to Demi lay out her plan. Thorne stands too close, her body heat radiating against my side. She’s a beautiful woman, objectively. But standing next to her feels like standing next to a mannequin made of dry ice. There’s no spark. No fire.
She’s not even in the same league as our girl. I think of her messy red hair when she first wakes up, her sharp tongue and the way she moaned my name the last time I was inside her while digging her nails into my back. That’s fire, that’s real.
The doors slide open on the second floor.
