Suck It Up, Buttercup: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (First Fangs Club Book 2)

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Suck It Up, Buttercup: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (First Fangs Club Book 2) Page 7

by Kristen Painter


  Charlie and Temo were in the living room. After Temo had helped her set up the security camera app on her phone, she’d asked them both to stay. Even though she was in the midst of getting ready, she wanted them around. Not just for the company, but in the hopes of getting to know them better.

  She’d also asked the manicurist to do Charlie’s nails after she finished with Donna’s. Charlie had made the visit possible, so it seemed like a kind thing to do.

  Pierce glanced at her hands, then nodded. “They look great. I like that you took my suggestion and matched the shoes. The color reminds me of drying blood. It should be a good reminder for Boris as well. Do you have a lipstick that color?”

  “Nice image. And yes, I do. You think I should wear it, obviously.”

  “If you’re not opposed to it.”

  “I’m not. What do you think about a smoky eye? Or should I go simpler?” She hadn’t had someone to talk to about clothes and makeup since Christina had gone off to college. Joe couldn’t have cared less if he’d tried, so she’d never asked his opinion on what she was wearing.

  If he’d hated something, he’d tell her. That was as much input as he’d given.

  Pierce sprinkled sea salt over the steaks. “A smoky eye would be great.” He traded the salt for the pepper. “You’re going to turn heads like no one’s business. I’m glad we’re taking Temo with us to Pravda. I know you can handle yourself, but he’ll be a good visual. And an even better deterrent for anyone thinking it’s all right to approach you.”

  “Plus, we’ll have Neo.” She liked the idea of backup. If things went poorly with Boris, which she was praying they didn’t, having extra help would be important. Especially because they were going to be on Boris’s home turf. His club. His advantage.

  Temo came in. “I heard my name.”

  She looked at him. “Just talking about going to Pravda tonight.”

  “Should be interesting.” He grinned. “I’ve never seen Russian mobsters. That I know of.”

  Pierce adjusted the heat on the grill pan. “Donna is going to attract attention. I want to make sure none of that attention goes further than looking.”

  Temo nodded. “There’s not a chance anyone will touch her.” He narrowed his eyes, and his mouth firmed into a hard, tight line as he clasped his hands in front of him, widening his stance. The transformation almost caused her to step back. Instead, she pulled her robe a little tighter. Like a few yards of chenille were some kind of defense.

  He tipped his head ever so slightly as he looked at Pierce, then Donna. A second later, he burst into a smile again. “What do you think? That’s my big-trouble look. As in, make a move and you’re in big trouble.”

  She laughed. “Well done. I hope you never look at me that way. You and my friend Neo are going to be all the muscle I need.”

  Pierce laid the steaks in the pan, filling the room with the sizzle. “Indeed. Very effective.”

  India, the young woman who’d come to do Donna’s hair, stepped into the kitchen. “I’m ready for you now, ma’am.”

  “All right.” She patted Temo on the arm. “Thanks for agreeing to go along this evening.”

  “Anything you want, boss.”

  With a smile, she followed India back to the salon and got settled in the chair.

  India started to put a cape around her, but Donna held up a hand. “I don’t think we need that. I don’t want a cut. Unless you think I need a trim?”

  India took a look, mostly at the ends. “No, it looks pretty good.” She hung the cape back in its spot. “What would you like me to do?”

  “Sleek, straight blowout. Very smooth and sophisticated.”

  “Same part you have now or in the middle?”

  “Which do you think? I want to look as boss as possible.”

  “Middle,” India said without hesitation.

  “Okay, I trust your judgment.” Donna closed her eyes and let the woman do her thing. Having someone work on her hair, in combination with the heat from the blow dryer, put her into a state of deep relaxation. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if that’s what Pierce had intended.

  Then she drifted off.

  When Donna woke up, India was smoothing some kind of serum on the ends of her hair.

  She looked in the mirror. “Oh. That’s incredible. My hair has never looked so good. I didn’t even know it could be that straight and sleek. I really like it parted in the middle too. It’s different. Makes me look a little mean. In a good way.” Laughing, she turned toward India. “You’re like the hair whisperer.”

  “Thank you. That’s kind of you. I am very happy to be of service.”

  Donna hopped out of the chair. “Let’s go make sure Charlie has you on speed dial.”

  She went straight for the kitchen, but Pierce and Temo were in the living room, watching what looked like rugby on the TV. The steaks had apparently been devoured. Charlie was sitting with them, but she was typing away on a small laptop and giving the game no attention.

  Donna put her hands on her hips. “What do you think?”

  All three looked at her. Temo whistled. Charlie smiled.

  Pierce nodded. “Gorgeous.”

  “I think so too. Charlie, add twenty percent to India’s tip and make sure we have all her contact information.” Donna stuck her hand out to India. “Thanks again. I need to go get dressed, but I know you’ll be back.”

  India shook her hand, smiling broadly. “I’d like that.”

  Donna gave the group a little wave, then headed off to her bedroom, which was easily her favorite room in the penthouse. She hadn’t bothered to look at it when she’d been here earlier because she’d figured Claudette’s stuff was still in it, but when she’d finally seen it, she’d been as impressed with it as the rest of the place.

  It still had all the same shades of gray with touches of white and crystal, but the bedroom was plush, instead of sleek, and decidedly more feminine. The wall behind the king-size bed was upholstered and tufted in a charcoal velvet that had a silver thread running through it. At certain angles, the fabric seemed to dance with light.

  Thick, fluffy carpets, like the ones she’d admired in the staff apartment, lay on most of the polished concrete floor, overlapping in some spots so that the paths to the bathroom and closet were completely covered.

  A sitting area just inside the door had an absolutely indulgent chaise done in the most breathtakingly bold fuchsia silk Donna had seen. The lounge chair was angled to take full advantage of the river view, and now that it was dark and the city lit up, she could see herself sitting there just taking in the beauty of that scape.

  The closet wasn’t as big as Donna’s old one, but then, she’d shared that space with Joe. This one was all hers. And still large enough to have a center island like she was used to. It also had a lighted three-part full-length mirror and a pretty chandelier made from shards of crystal that looked like icicles.

  The bathroom was all iridescent glass tile and white marble with the same polished-concrete flooring, but there were no rugs in here other than in front of the shower and tub. She figured out pretty quickly that the floor had radiant heat.

  She liked the feel of the warm concrete underfoot. She also liked the spa-like feel of the bath. And the size of the shower. And that the space in the closet was all hers. She liked the whole place immensely.

  She was getting used to the idea of being governor. But the meetings she had to get through were giving her some nerves, that was for sure.

  Time ticked ever closer to Fitzhugh’s arrival. She expected him to be early, so she wasn’t going to leave anything to the last minute. She planned to be completely ready by a quarter till.

  Not that she was going to actually see him until ten. If he was early, that was on him. He could wait.

  Or maybe she’d greet him a little early. Just to prove she was ready. She hadn’t quite decided that yet.

  She kept her robe on as she did her makeup, complete with the deep-red lip Pierce h
ad suggested, then got dressed, slipped her shoes on, and added jewelry as well. Done, she took a long look at herself in the triple mirror.

  This wasn’t the Donna she’d known for the last twenty-some years. This woman was brand new in so many ways. Older, but infinitely wiser. Smarter. Stronger. Bolder.

  And thanks to becoming a vampire, she looked better than she ever had. India’s transformation of her hair had done something too. The middle part had somehow brought her features into sharper focus and given her an edge she’d never had before.

  She liked it. She’d always thought about how she might reinvent herself when she got free of Joe. She’d never imagined it like this, though. This was good.

  A knock at her door called her attention away from the mirror. “Yes?”

  Pierce answered her from outside the open bedroom door. “Would you like a glass of wine? You have twenty minutes before Fitzhugh is set to arrive.”

  One glass wouldn’t do much. Her vampire metabolism took a lot more to get buzzed. “No, I’m all right.”

  She stepped out of the closet and into his line of sight. “What do you think?”

  He took a breath. “Total boss. You look stunning. I’m a little afraid of you right now.”

  She laughed softly. “I doubt that, but I’ll take it.”

  The doorbell rang.

  She and Pierce looked at each other, their eyes widening at the same time. He shook his head. “It can’t be. Twenty minutes early?”

  She frowned. “I am not going out there this early. I don’t want him to think I’m at his beck and call.”

  “Agreed.” Pierce held up a finger. “Let me go make sure that’s actually him. Be right back.”

  “Okay.” She stood there for a moment, then walked over to the windows to take in the view. As she looked out, she realized that was Fitzhugh’s territory she was admiring. That made her grimace. She’d never been much for politics, and now she would be stuck in the middle of them.

  The muted sounds of conversation drifted in from the other room, but with the television still on, the words weren’t clear. They sounded oddly happy, though.

  A few more seconds and Pierce returned. Before she turned toward him, she knew by the sudden wash of scent that he was holding flowers. And indeed he was. An extravagant bouquet of black roses, lavender roses, purple orchids, and bold greenery.

  He peered around them. “It wasn’t Fitzhugh.”

  “I see that. Who are those from?”

  “We didn’t open the card, but Charlie says they’re from Fitzhugh. She said he did the same thing before meeting with Claudette, sent over a big flashy arrangement.”

  “Is that so?” She came over and plucked the card from the overwhelming spray in his hands, taking a moment to sink her face into the blooms and inhale. “The roses smell amazing. I have to give him this much, he does flowers well. Not sure these would have been my color choices, but they’re very pretty.”

  “They’re very vampirey.”

  “That they are.” She opened the card and read the brief message out loud. “To our future endeavors and a wonderful new friendship. HF.” She lifted her gaze to meet Pierce’s. “He sure thinks a lot of himself, doesn’t he?”

  Pierce rolled his eyes. “He sure does. Where do you want me to put them?”

  She tapped the card against her hand as she thought. “Powder room.”

  Pierce snorted. “Oh, that’s good.”

  “When he leaves, we’ll move them out to the dining room table, because they really are lovely. I just don’t want to give him the slightest bit of upper hand here.”

  Pierce was still chuckling. “I really had no idea how mercenary you could be. If I wasn’t already mad about you, I would be now.”

  She grinned. Pierce always had a way of making her feel like she ruled the world. “You know what? I think I will take that glass of wine after all.”

  “I’ll bring it right back.”

  But by the time he’d put the bouquet in the half bath and returned with her wine, the doorbell had rung again.

  “It’s got to be him this time.” Pierce handed her the wineglass. “Charlie’s going to take him into the sitting room and offer him something to drink.”

  “Good. That’s perfect. We don’t want to be inhospitable. Even though I’m going to let him stew for five or six minutes before I go in.”

  “Do you want any of us in there with you?”

  She thought a moment. “Go see if he brought anyone with him. I want an even playing field.”

  “On it.” Pierce left.

  She sipped her wine, careful of her lipstick.

  He returned momentarily. “Other than his driver, who’s still downstairs in the car, it seems he came alone.”

  “Then I’ll meet him that way. Don’t go far, though. I’m fine with you guys listening in.”

  Pierce rubbed his hands together. “I’ll discreetly let Charlie know.”

  “Thanks.” She glanced at the time, her nerves kicking in suddenly. That had to be her need to make a good impression. And not get swayed by Fitzhugh’s games. Or allow herself to be intimidated by him, although she was already a little intimidated. He had far more experience being governor than she did.

  Impulsively, she downed the remainder of her wine in one big swallow.

  It was symbolic at best because the alcohol wouldn’t do anything. She knew that. But maybe it would have a little placebo effect. She blew out a long breath and shook herself, loosening up.

  So what if the wine didn’t work? She didn’t need it. She’d spent the last twenty-seven years of her life living with the Mafia. She’d faced down Big Tony, one of the most notorious criminals on record since Al Capone. She’d handled Lucinda just fine this morning.

  And she was a vampire. An actual killing machine. Not that she could ever see herself going on a rampage, but she was certainly capable of it.

  Fitzhugh wasn’t a man to be intimidated by. He was her peer. Nothing more. He simply had more experience, which didn’t mean he was more capable.

  She lifted her chin, stuck her chest out, and headed for the sitting room.

  Chapter Nine

  He stood in front of the windows, staring out, his broad back to her as he mimicked the pose she’d just held a few minutes ago. “The city is very beautiful at night, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” she answered.

  His dark pin-striped suit was impeccably cut, as was his hair, although it had been left just long enough to run your fingers through. His hands were clasped behind him, showing off an ornate silver ring set with a dark green gem polished into a cabochon.

  He was taller than her, but shorter than Pierce. Built like Pierce, too, with the kind of lanky ease that came with natural athleticism.

  In her heels, they’d be eye to eye.

  Finally, as if he’d been allowing her time to take him in, he turned. “Very beautiful,” he repeated.

  Charlie hadn’t lied about him being exceptionally good-looking. He was Hollywood handsome. Too pretty, maybe. Everything about him seemed deliberately meant to look unplanned. From his crisp white shirt left unbuttoned at the throat to his casually arranged pocket square. Even his stubble looked artfully cultivated.

  His thick, dark brows twitched ever so slightly higher as he appraised her. “But perhaps not as beautiful as the new governor of New Jersey.”

  Flattery, she thought. Nothing more. She offered him the same smile she used to give her children when they’d failed at something despite their best attempts. “Good evening, Governor Fitzhugh.”

  He bowed slightly. “Governor Barrone.”

  “Please, call me Belladonna.”

  “And you may call me Hawke.” He extended his hand, the one with the ring. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I understand your transition has been rather swift and unexpected. If there’s anything I can do to help you settle in, please consider me at your service.”

  She shook his hand. So far, so good. “That’s kind
of you. My team is all the help I need at the moment, but it’s always nice to know the offer exists.”

  He smiled. “You’re very fortunate to have a better team around you than I had when I was appointed.”

  That intrigued her. “Oh? Was your transition not smooth?”

  He glanced to the side as if remembering and stuck his hands into his trouser pockets. “‘Smooth’ is not the word I’d use to describe it, no. I took office much the same way you did. After a dispute. You’ll hear rumors that I started the thing, but I promise you those are false. Time has a way of exaggerating the truth for effect.”

  “I know that to be true.”

  “I imagine you do.” He touched his chest. “I would like to add that I am not the scoundrel I am often made out to be.”

  “Is that so?” She took a seat in one of the chairs, crossing her legs carefully. There was no wineglass on the coffee table. No drink of any kind. He must not have wanted anything when Charlie offered.

  “It is.” His gaze never strayed from her. “May I join you?”

  “Of course.” She gestured toward the chair across from her. This was going better than she’d anticipated. Although she expected him to say or do something at any moment to prove what she’d been told about him. Even if he claimed that wasn’t the case. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Certainly.”

  “If you’re not who everyone says you are, why, then, do you have the reputation you do?”

  He unbuttoned his suit coat and sat where she’d indicated, filling the chair with his form. “I suppose people like to talk about me. They like to talk about anyone who’s in a position of power.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. Not with her history. “So it’s just because you are who you are and not because you give them any reason to?”

  He nodded. “Exactly. I knew you’d understand.”

  He needed to hold his horses. She wasn’t Team Fitzhugh just yet. “You knew that about me? That I’d understand? How is that?”

  “Because you are… What’s the word? Mafioso?”

 

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