We walk the short distance to the dining room in silence. I’m busy looking for exits, closed off rooms, and cameras—any clues as to where secret discussions might take place and what surveillance I might be able to tap into.
Erin’s sharp intake of breath makes me focus.
The dining room is impressive. Six circular dining tables laden with silverware, wine glasses and flickering candles. The air is thick with the scent of hothouse lilies and fois gras.
No expense has been spared, and rightly so. Invitations to this retreat came with a hefty price tag and a shopping list of fake connections.
Erin tenses beside me. “And there I was thinking I would feeloverdressed, notunderdressed. Even the servers look like they just stepped out ofVogue.”
I cast an eye over their pressed black vests and polished shoes. She’s not wrong.
A few couples have already arrived. Two of the men I recognize—one from the business pages of theNew York Times, the other from a shady deal Bernadi negotiated back whenGianni, the former don, was still alive. I wasn’t in the thick of that, so he wouldn’t recognize me.
It’s good to see our tip-off is checking out though. There’s definitely a black market presence here.
“You’re dressed just fine,” I mutter beneath a breath.
She barks out a sarcastic laugh. “Gee, stop with the compliments.”
I notice with smug satisfaction, my ‘wife’ is probably the best-looking woman in here. Don’t think I’ve missed the approving glances and not-so-discreet stares from across the room as we move deeper into it.
That yellow dress looks like she just poured herself into it. It hugs every damn curve she owns.
My mouth goes a little dry at the thought of what else she bought with my money.
I got the itemized bill of course—I know she has great taste when it comes to designers. I also know she splurged on some very expensive lingerie. That wasn’t part of my brief and I’m a little pissed I won’t actually get to see it.
I have to remind myself, this is a job and I’m paying her. She looks the part, so half the battle’s been won. She just needs to keep to the story I gave her and not ask too many questions when I disappear for an hour here and there.
We find our place names at a table in the center and lower into the seats. Erin’s gaze flickers to me briefly as if she’s looking for reassurance. Without thinking, I rest my hand on her exposed knee. It jumps under my touch, then settles as a light flush rises up her throat.
“You’re doing good,” I murmur.
When another couple arrives at the table, I stand briefly.
The man isn’t familiar to me and neither does he look familiar with these kinds of events. Pale skin, sweating profusely. His damp palm quivers when I shake his hand. Hiswife looks equally like a deer in the headlamps, wringing her hands repeatedly.
“August King,” I say to them both. “And this is my wife, Erin.”
“Todd Goldblum,” the man says, his gaze flicking nervously between me and Erin. “And my wife, Janey.”
“It’s lovely to meet you.” Erin beams at them. “Where did you travel from?”
Janey turns to her husband with a terrified look in her eye.
“We flew in from D.C.,” Todd answers. “You?”
My chest eases slightly. I could tell instantly he wasn’t part of a criminal family. There’s a chance he could be a financier, but I’d bet money on him being a wayward politician toeing the wrong side of the line, hence the excessive perspiration.
I step in, just until Erin settles into our story. “Long Island. It was a beautiful drive.”
“And this is such a gorgeous location,” Erin says. “Have you had a chance to look around?”
Janey gives a nervous shake of her head. “No, not yet.”
Erin leans forward, her eyes wide with delight. “There’s so much to do here, and the gardens are divine. We have a beautiful view from our rooms, don’t we, darling?”
My head snaps to her. Fuck, she’s actually good at this. “That’s right,darling. We do.”
