Besides our family’s clubs and restaurant, that is.
They knew me well enough here, a location that I’d frequented with more than one beautiful woman. Not tonight. One hour tops and I would be gone.
As I enjoyed a swallow, I pulled out my phone to ensure the nothing within the Prince family regime had blown up in my absence. Perhaps I was hopeful for a text or email from my Capo indicating confirmation of what he’d told me earlier in the day.
Seeing nothing annoyed the hell out of me. I’d rarely be considered a patient man, especially when it came to anyone with the misguided thought of invading our territory. As the music began to play, I scrolled through my other meetings, including a link my brother and Don had established as a reminder of our usual monthly business meeting. If I didn’t click the link for attendance, by the end of the evening he’d be hounding me.
Technology had certainly changed our world, something my father had shaken his head over, preferring the old-fashioned methods of doing business.
After a few minutes of easing the boredom, I shoved the phone into my jacket pocket and glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up an entire wall at my beloved city. While darkness hung over the city, the shimmer of outside lights reflected the attitude of Bourbon Street and beyond. New York might be considered the city that never slept, but New Orleans had to be a close second.
Applause captured my attention. Only then did I realize the performances were short. The least I could do was to pretend that I was enjoying the ballet if only for the thirty-minute allotment.
A number of artists came on, their styles all different, their costumes colorful and unique.
I was on my second drink when the last performer stepped onto the stage.
The lights shimmered in an entirely different way than the previous dances, the stage glittering as if polished with gold. The holographic effect was breathtaking yet unable to hide the beauty of both her fluid movements and the crimson costume she was wearing. While I was certainly no expert in Greek mythology, it was clear her costume of choice was Aphrodite.
The goddess of passion.
As she began the dance, I could easily tell without knowing a thing about ballet that she was more than simply professionally trained. She was perfect for the dance, her rounded curves and long legs accentuated in the stunning flow of sheer material.
With every step, every move of her arms as she swayed in time to the powerful music, I was even more enthralled. I wasn’t the kind of man to find myself in a vacuum around any woman, but this was an exceptional woman and I was holding my breath. When she was on point, lifting her arms toward the glittering ceiling, her expression of serenity had a calming effect.
Before I realized I’d even moved, I was standing only feet away from the stage. For a man who’d never truly valued art, her beauty and majesty held my attention.
And kept me fully aroused.
When she was finished, the applause was thunderous, people on their feet.
She seemed embarrassed at the reactions, backing away as if completely uncertain of what to do. Yet she recovered, bowing to the audience before taking a few seconds and making eye contact with everyone in the front row.
I was the last on the list and when she captured my eyes, the subtle and highly suggestive gesture of her tongue darting across her stained bottom lip was powerful enough my balls tightened. Holy shit. Those were the only appropriate words.
All time stopped, a ridiculous cliché but so truthful at this moment. My heart pounded, my blood pressure through the roof. She seemed to sense my condition, cocking her lovely head and allowing her gaze to fall in appreciation. To say thunder rolled wasn’t an exaggeration.
In turn, I lifted my glass, allowing my admiration to be known.
Every dancer made another appearance before the lights slowly began to dim. The unknown Aphrodite offered another look in my direction, finally allowing me to experience her smile.
The moment was as jarring as her performance. She was positively glowing, lighting up the entire room with her energy and beauty.
“Wow,” I said out loud.
While the audience slowly returned to their tables, I stood where I was. Irina was now on stage, using her arms as props. Hopefully, the ballet director was doling out accolades. If a man with no knowledge of ballet could enjoy a performance, something had been done right. Chuckling, I finally turned away, heading back to my earlier perch.
After a few minutes and four conversations later, I checked my watch. The goddess had disappeared and I’d grown bored. I’d made my appearance as my sister had asked. Now it was time to head home. Maybe tonight would be the perfect hot tub night.
I buttoned my jacket and headed into the corridor, moving toward the bank of elevators.
After pressing the button, I took a deep breath, noting a presence beside me mere seconds later.
The scent of light perfume tickled my nose, but it was the sway of material that caught my full attention. When I casually tipped my head, I was pleasantly surprised to see Aphrodite standing next to me. With a duffle bag slung over her shoulders, her toe shoes replaced with red tennis shoes, I was wildly smitten if only for the enjoyment of watching her move.
Which was why I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off her.
Still wearing the mask with gold flecks of glitter shimmering across the visible bottom of her cheeks and on her shoulders, she was a vision of beauty. She had long dark hair, the soft and easy curls dancing delicately down to the middle of her back. I longed to run my fingers through them to test the softness.
