Maceo himself was in his office on the third floor. Alex knocked on the door and didn’t wait for an answer. Maceo looked up and grinned.
‘Alex, how good to see you.’ He got up and the two men bear-hugged. Maceo, his green eyes a contrast to his dark curls and swarthy skin, studied his friend. ‘How are you? Really?’
Alex sighed inwardly. He would be getting this question a lot today. ‘I’m fine, Maceo. It’s been months since Viola died and, not that I will ever get over it, but I have to try and function. So, I need this, I need to celebrate something good. The place looks incredible.’
Maceo nodded, grinning. Humility wasn’t in Maceo’s playbook. ‘Thanks, Alex. I admit, it does look spectacular. And you should see who we have exhibiting at the moment.’ He rattled off a few names, and Alex was impressed. Some of the biggest names in modern art – he had to admire Maceo’s work ethic. He doubted anyone said no to the young man in front of him.
Young man. Alex shook his head, smiling. He and Maceo were the exact same age; Alex just felt like the grandad of their group. The club. The Midnight Club. In truth, he had always considered himself the oldest of them – except for maybe Seth, but then again, he and Seth were as close as twins. Maceo was the young puppy of the group; passionate, confident, a visionary.
Maceo was gathering up a pile of papers and yelling for ‘Lucia!’. A gorgeous blonde girl walked in, and Alex smiled at her. She nodded back, friendly but professional..
‘You have an intercom, Maceo, don’t scream at me,’ she snapped at Maceo who grinned unrepentantly. She took the papers from him, and as she was walking away, she looked back over her shoulder. ‘I have to duck out for a couple of hours. Personal errand. Your other friends are waiting downstairs.’
Maceo hooted his delight. ‘Good! Come, Alex, let’s go see them.’ And he bore his friend away back down the main gallery.
Orianthi Roy stood outside the airport arrivals feeling lost. Lucia was late, and Ori wondered if she should hail a cab. Italy was new to her, and the flight had tired her out, and now she felt discombobulated as people pushed passed her, meeting their loved ones, loudly talking and yelling everywhere.
‘This was meant to be a break, a quiet break,’ she muttered to herself, then felt a flood of relief as she saw Lucia waving at her. Her friend hugged her.
‘God, I’m sorry, Ori, the traffic was insane. Is that your case? Come on, I’ll get you settled at home.’
Lucia drove them back into the city. Ori was surprised. ‘I thought it was all canals?’
Lucia grinned. ‘Not yet, we’re still on the mainland. Listen, I have to tell you, my boss is having his grand gallery opening tonight and so I have to work. But, I have arranged for you to be on the guest list – don’t worry, it’s an invite only thing and won’t go too late. But I would really like you to come.’
Damn it, Ori thought but kept a smile on her face. ‘Love to, Luce. Listen, I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay. I just needed to get away from all the craziness back home.’
Lucia looked at her with sympathy. ‘I knew it was bad, Ori, but I have to tell you, you scared me when you called me the other night. What has Janek done now?’
Ori felt sick at the mere mention of his name. Tyson Janek III. Congressman and her step-father. Recently outed by the mainstream press as screwing a lot of his colleagues’ wives, he had been forced to step down but even now was working to retake his position. The fact he was doing it by calling in favors from people less than respectable didn’t matter to Tyson Janek. He didn’t care who he stepped on, who he destroyed. When he had married Ori’s mother, Ori had been ten years old and in deep mourning for the father she had lost. Ori’s mother, Kathryn, disinherited from her father’s newspaper fortune had married the charming and handsome Tyson and had given birth to Ori’s younger half-brother, A.J. soon after. A.J. was the best and only good thing about the marriage as far as Ori was concerned.
Because almost as soon as Tyson had married her mother, he started to abuse Ori. At first, it was insidious - the odd touch here and there that could be explained away but on the night of her twelfth birthday, her mother was asleep when Tyson came into Ori’s room. That night he raped her for the first time. That night, he threatened the life of her mother, her baby brother, and Ori herself for the first time. It didn’t stop until Ori left for college. She never returned home. Tyson persuaded her mother to write Ori out of her will, leaving her penniless.
Determined not to take a penny from Tyson or touch the small amount of money her mother had left A.J., she worked in retail stores, bars, restaurants, diners, all to make enough to pay her rent and keep food on the table. At college, she excelled and graduated her arts program with honors. It was only when she started to be offered graduate programs that Tyson started to interfere again. Suddenly she would be turned down or rejected for places she had been offered unconditionally. Tyson broke into her apartment one night and told her that she would never be free of him; that she belonged to him. When her mother died five years ago, Ori had taken the still teenage A.J. and moved away from New York, hiding out in Arizona, putting A.J. through state school.
Tyson had found them within weeks and, threatening Ori with arrest, took his son back to New York. Unwilling to leave A.J., Ori had reluctantly followed, knowing as long as A.J. was underage, Tyson had them.
He raped her again on her twenty-fifth birthday, and this time, he beat her too. Leaving her bleeding and bruised, he had gotten dressed and grabbed her by the throat. ‘Try and leave me, Ori. Just try. They won’t be able to identify your body for weeks.’
But living in a world of terror can make the strongest person break. Ori quit her job and stayed at home for three months, not speaking to anyone. In the end, it took a concerned ex-co-worker to come find her and pull her out of the mire. Lucia had been over from Italy to see her parents, Italian immigrants to New York, and had been horrified to see Ori so depressed. She had told her then to come to Italy, to escape. Three years after that final rape, when Tyson’s scandal had erupted, and the press were all over their family, A.J. had checked himself into a facility for depression, and Ori had called Lucia. It had been her one chance to escape Tyson. Now she knew A.J. was okay, that he was safe where he was…it was time for her to look out herself.
‘Hey, penny for them. We’re here.’ Lucia nudged her, smiling.
Lucia’s apartment was huge. Her guest bedroom looked out over a canal and had a little balcony where Ori could sit and sketch or just sit and watch the day. She looked around the bedroom. Huge bed, vanity, en-suite bathroom. A small table and chair for her to work at. Ori smiled at Lucia gratefully.
‘Luce, this is amazing, thank you.’
Lucia hugged her. ‘I hoped you’d like it. Now, everything is handled. I’ve even taken the liberty of getting you a few clothes – now, I know you hate dressing up but believe me, try it, just for an evening. I’ve bought you plenty of jeans and tee-shirts too.’
Ori laughed. ‘I don’t know how to thank you, Luce.’
‘I want you to relax. Be yourself. Don’t worry about anything, money, or anything. I have too much as it is. Maceo’s a shit, but he pays exceptionally well.’
Ori was curious about her friend’s boss. ‘Why is he a shit?’
Lucia chuckled, rolling her eyes. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I like him a lot, but he’s a whore. A complete and utter man-slut. He’s already worked his way around my staff.’
‘You?’
‘Hell no. I’ve had my fill of Maceo’s kind – I’m happy with my boyfriend. And get this, Maceo has four friends, all gorgeous, all billionaires. All of them exactly like him.’ She told Ori about The Midnight Club, and Ori laughed.
‘Cavemen?’
‘Some of them. A couple of them are okay…Seth and Alex. Alex just lost his fiancé a few months ago. He’s a wreck but trying not to show it. Anyway, you’ll meet them tonight, no doubt.’
Lucia left her alone to rest, and Ori walked slowly
around the room, feeling the soft white voile curtains, the firm mattress of the bed. She curled up on it now, phone in hand. A.J. had messaged her. How’s Italia, sis? She smiled. Beautiful but wish you were here too. She checked the clock. A quarter of two. She wondered if A.J. would be in one of his group meetings about now. She didn’t hear back from him, so she assumed he was and closed her eyes. Just five minutes’ sleep. Within minutes, she was dead to the world as, outside her window, Venice basked in the early afternoon sun.
***
Maceo Bartoli said a few words at the beginning of the reception then, with a flourish, cut the ribbon and the gallery was open. He felt a certain pride as his guests chattered excitedly and sought him out to ask questions. He especially enjoyed the attentions of the beautiful women who drifted around the room. He glanced up and saw his four best friends huddled against the back wall, grinning at his easy flirtation with the guests. He managed to make his way over to them and gratefully took a glass of champagne from Seth, the tall Canadian.
‘Dude, congratulations. A triumph.’
Maceo raised his glass. ‘To us.’
Lisander, the brooding Argentinian fashion designer, nodded at some the exhibits. ‘Nice showing of South American art, thank you, Maceo.’
Maceo grinned. ‘If I could only persuade you to allow me to hang some your design sketches, Sander.’
Benoit, an elegant Frenchman, flicked his dark brown eyes across the room. An architect, he nodding approvingly at the galleries design. ‘This is a good space, Maceo. A very good space.’
Maceo grinned at him, his green eyes shining. ‘Enough about that,’ he raised his glass, ‘happy birthday, my brothers.’
Later, he was talking to a local artist, assuring the man that he would champion Italian art above all else. The man, although talented, had godawful dog-breath and so Maceo was edging away from him slowly. Finally, with a sigh of relief, he managed to escape to one of the balconies. He stepped out into the cool Venetian air and heaved a sigh of relief. He didn’t see the young woman sitting on one of the stone plinths until she gave a small, embarrassed cough. He turned to see a small brunette in a dark mauve cocktail dress. She had long dark brown hair pulled over one shoulder and her cheeks were adorably flushed pink. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.’
American. Soft, melodic voice. Eyes the color of the ocean, dark green and large. Thick, thick dark lashes and a rosebud mouth. Maceo felt his cock twitch and he immediately went into ‘seduction mode’. He’d exhausted his supply of assistants, and he was damned if he was going to sleep alone tonight. He ran his eyes over her body, taking in the curve of her waist, full breasts, shapely legs. He could already imagine that lush pink mouth around his cock. He smiled at the young woman.
‘It is my pleasure, Miss?’
She looked wary. ‘Orianthi.’
‘Miss Orianthi.’
‘No,’ she chuckled slightly, ‘that’s my first name.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ he said without missing a beat, his eyes locked on hers, and holding out his hand. She shook it. ‘Maceo Bartoli. Did you like the exhibit?’
‘Very much. You have a Hopper on loan, I see. He’s my hero. I also liked the Mamani Mamani selection.’
Maceo’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You know your paintings.’
Ori nodded. ‘I majored in art and I worked for a while as a curator.’
Maceo was impressed, but he was still distracted by her body. He could smell her scent, perfume, soap and clean laundry. Fresh air. He wondered how her cunt would taste, how it would feel. He shot a quick look in through the French windows…could he take her here? Suddenly being inside this beautiful woman was all he could think about.
He blinked, trying to concentrate on what she was saying. He smiled as she stammered to a halt, suddenly noticing his scrutiny. ‘Orianthi, would you care to have a late supper with me tonight?’
She grinned, and her smile made his cock thicken painfully. She really was gorgeous. But she shook her head. ‘Mr. Bartoli, I should tell you. I’m staying with Lucia Fernando; she and I are best friends and let’s just say…your reputation precedes you. Thank you, but no.’
She nodded, half-smiling and went back inside, leaving Maceo staring after her. Remind me to fire Lucia, he thought to himself, knowing that a) he would do nothing of the sort; he couldn’t function without Lucia running his business and b) …that whoever she was, the girl called Orianthi had just laid down the ultimate challenge to Maceo Bartoli. Get her into bed or die trying. Maceo grinned to himself and went back into the gallery to rejoin his friends.
They say the first time is the hardest. They say it gets easier the more you kill. Yes, he had found that to be true. Killing Viola had been life-changing. That surprise in her eyes as he shot the crossbow bolt into her at point blank range, the horror. Her blood. Carrying her lifeless body to the edge of the river and dumping her in. Watching her blood mix with the water. He had never felt such peace.
And now he knew he would do the same. To any woman that the Midnight Club grew attached to. Fell in love with. He would kill them all. He stared at the girl in the mauve dress. She looked like Viola too; dark, sensual, curvy. He hoped she would stay away from the Club, away from them all. Otherwise…it would be her death sentence.
Alex Milland rolled over onto his back and sighed. No sleep again. Three a.m. He considered then grabbed his phone. He knew one of his friends would still be up – well, he knew Maceo would also be up and fucking some hot girl he’d picked up at the opening. Alex grinned to himself. Maceo was a machine. Could turn his feelings off. Maceo was an expert at that and Alex envied him for it.
No, he could call on Seth. Seth, the calm center of their group. Quiet, fiercely intelligent and with an empathy that somehow the rest of them lacked, Seth was Vancouver’s answer to Bill Gates. A brilliant mind but, Alex knew, a solitary one. And, to Alex’s own benefit tonight, Seth was also an insomniac. He sent Seth a text message, and sure enough, a reply came back almost immediately. Bar is still open.
He found Seth sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of scotch. He looked exhausted but smiled at his friend, sliding a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue over to him. ‘How’re you doing, Alex?’
Alex shrugged. ‘Existing.’
Seth nodded in sympathy. ‘I’m sorry, man. I can’t even imagine. They still haven’t a clue who murdered Viola?’
Alex sighed. ‘No. I can’t get my head around it, Seth, I just don’t get it. I just don’t know what it would take for someone to do that to Viola, man. She was kind and loving to everyone. Such a fucking waste.’
‘I hear you, brother.’
Alex took a slug of scotch. ‘I tell you, man, never again. No more long-term things. I don’t think my heart could cope.’
Seth studied him. ‘Alex…you can’t let this stop you from being happy ever again.’
Alex gave a humorless laugh. ‘Look who’s talking.’
‘That’s different,’ Seth said shortly. ‘Irina cheated on me. Not the same at all. I just haven’t the time for relationships. I can get a quick fuck whenever I need it; why bother with the rest?’
‘Cold.’
‘Not cold; smart.’
Alex sighed. ‘Where are the others?’
‘Not being smart.’
Alex chortled. ‘God, you really did get up on the wrong side of the bed today.’
Seth rubbed his face. ‘I just want some damn sleep, man.’
‘I know how you feel.’
Seth put his arm around Alex’s shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, buddy. You must miss her. We all do.’
An hour later, Alex was back in bed, listening to the rain fall outside. He closed his eyes, but he could only see Viola’s face, pale, gray. Dead. Her body so still on the mortuary slab. The detective asking him to identify her.
Alex pushed the thought away and rolled over, finally, at six a.m., falling asleep.
Ori stood under the spray of the shower, trying to shake the dream she h
ad just awoken from. Not that it was a nightmare – far from it – and it was a change to have such a pleasant dream for once. Ha, she thought, ‘pleasant’ is hardly the word. Try hot, try sensual, try the sexiest, most erotic dream she’d ever had.
And of course, it had to be about that damn Maceo Bartoli, didn’t it?
Ori closed her eyes, and the water poured over her body, and for a second she indulged in the remembrance of the dream…the part where Maceo Bartoli ordered everyone out of his gallery except her, then made her stand naked in the middle of the floor while he circled her, watching, studying her and describing everything he wanted to do to her. God, she shivered as she remembered, her hand snaking down her thigh and into her sex, rubbing her clit as she thought of him ordering her to spread her legs before he took out his enormously hard cock and …
‘Ori?’ Lucia yelled through her bathroom door.
Ori’s eyes snapped open and, flushing guiltily, she shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around herself, she opened her bedroom door. Lucia looked apologetic.
‘Hey sweetie, I’m sorry. Maceo’s called me into work, so we’ll have to postpone our shopping trip.’
Ori was disappointed. ‘Oh. Well, that’s okay, I can just wander around, get to know the place. We can shop another day.’
Lucia smiled at her gratefully. ‘Thanks, darling, I am sorry. Look, I have a handy travel guide book that I’ve left on the table – it was invaluable when I first moved here. Just be vigilant – oh, look what I’m saying. Is there a place in the world where we woman don’t have to be vigilant?’
The Billionaire Bad Boy Plan Page 118