by Calinda B
He lifted his chin in acknowledgment.
Liam closed the door behind him and locked it. Wordlessly, he guided her to the elevator.
Adam followed at a discrete distance.
Once they stood in front of the lift, Liam pressed the open button.
When the doors whooshed open, he placed his hand on the edge to hold it open, and said, “You two go on up. I’m sure my mother has your every move planned.”
Savannah frowned, hesitating. “What will you do?”
“Get drunk. I don’t know. I plan on enjoying what freedom I have left until we tie the knot.” He stretched his mouth into a mirthless smile. “Go on now, little girl. Get on up there where you can be paraded around this stupid place. It’s a world of make-believe and broken dreams.”
Sorrow pierced her heart as she sauntered into the elevator, with Adam on her tail. He wanted to be a doctor. When she glanced behind her, Liam had already started his departure, striding down the hall toward who knows where—while she went to face more of the unknown and fantasy of the Diamond Club.
8
Shocked by the fortune of the stolen gems Liam had shown her downstairs, as well as his cavalier attitude about the club’s activities, Savannah fell back against the wall of the elevator, her legs shaky.
“This place,” she hissed.
Adam’s attention focused on the ceiling as if admiring the architecture. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
She eyed the cameras placed in every corner, forcing a smile. “It’s wonderful. Paris was nothing compared to this club.”
I’d give anything to go back there, even if it meant another ass chewing.
The elevator slid to a graceful stop. The doors whooshed open.
Adam helped her from the lift and escorted her into the same lounge where she’d met Liam.
Hanging back for a moment, she scanned her surroundings.
The dance floor resembled a giant orgy, as people in various stages of undress humped, pressed, and slithered around one another. The band pumped out exotic, erotic music, complete with enough booming bass to give Savannah’s organs an unwelcome sound massage. Conversation bled through the music, creating high-pitched overtones to the sultry sway of dirty, throbbing downbeats.
Across the room, near an elevator door, stood a large black pedestal with an even larger black man, dressed in a suit and tie.
The lift doors opened, and an elegantly dressed couple exited, coming to stand before the pedestal.
The suited man greeted them warmly. He scanned a tablet. He nodded and said something. The couple smiled and took a step back.
“This is the entrance we’ll use when we haven’t been drugged.” Adam gave Savannah a pointed gaze, loaded with meaning.
She shivered. “Right.”
“The host scans their credentials,” Adam whispered in Savannah’s ear. “Then, he’ll call for this guy.”
He inclined his head toward a tall man striding toward the black pedestal.
“He’s Sergio. He’s deadly. He’s got more training in combat than a Navy Seal. But here, he appears smooth and elegant. He’ll show them to their table.”
Savannah nodded, keeping the same gentle smile plastered on her face, should anyone look over.
“The bartenders are Colt and Truman from New Jersey. Also, trained in martial arts and hand to hand combat.”
“What about her?” Savannah inclined her head toward a pretty waitress, dressed in a short skirt and cleavage-revealing top. “Is she trained, too?”
“That’s Brianna. And yep, she’s a bitch with a blade.”
“Damn. So, everyone here carries or has special training?”
“Yep.”
She swept the room with her gaze, finding Ambrosia sitting with a group of friends around some sort of scene, like the Master Steele event. She took a deep breath.
“Okay. Let’s go hang with my mother,” she said, straightening her shoulders. With her newly practiced gait, she made her way across the room.
Both men and women lifted their heads to study her.
“You’re fresh meat,” Adam said discreetly. “And you’re beautiful. They’re all trying to decide how to get to you and what they’ll do once they get you in a private room.”
She trembled, then squared her shoulders, keeping her apprehension at bay.
“See all those doorways at different places around the space?”
She nodded, smiling.
“Those are the private rooms. Anything goes in those spaces.”
Same as the Diamond Strumpet’s Club.
As she approached Ambrosia, she slowed to make sure she understood what her eyes insisted they were seeing.
Spread across the large rectangular table lay a glamorous woman, dressed like a Las Vegas showgirl. A white diamond studded bra barely covered her ample breasts. Her skin appeared glittered with gold dust. A white feather boa had been draped around her neck. Her feet, clad in diamond-studded stilettos, were slung over the shoulders of a man dressed in an Italian designer suit.
His hands roamed her legs while he bent his head to nip and nibble at her ankles and calves. At the wrists of his suit, gold-square cuff-links shimmered. A smaller matching earring stud sparkled from his earlobe.
Coming to a halt a yard or so away, Savannah tugged Adam’s shirt sleeve. She squinted at the woman.
He leaned down to listen.
“Is she wearing crotch less panties?” She had to yell over the din.
“Sure looks like it,” he said, grinning. “And this is tame compared to what goes on in the back rooms. This kind of thing is designed to weed out the gawkers from the players. Guests are allowed here. Only members get the back access.”
Ambrosia spied Savannah and waved, gesturing for her to come over.
Savannah approached her, putting on a winning smile.
“Darling,” Ambrosia cooed.
Adam hung back, a discreet distance away.
“Mother,” Savannah said, leaning down to kiss her phony mother-in-law’s cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Oh, yes. Watch this.” She focused her eager eyes on the white-clad woman.
A handsome waiter-looking man stood near the white-clad woman. A blonde wearing a slinky gown stood alongside him. A small table, holding a bottle of liquor, a silver salt shaker and a silver bowl stood nearby.
Someone seated at the table called, “Give him another shot.”
The others laughed and agreed with the request.
The waiter plucked a lime wedge from the silver bowl. He placed it between his teeth, gently biting on the skin of the fruit. He leaned toward the blonde.
She grinned, opened her mouth, and received the proffered lime from his lips, placing her teeth upon the citrus flesh with practiced finesse.
Everyone sitting at the table oohed.
The Italian-suited man called out a deep, “Yeah. Give it to me.”
The blonde made her way to his side. She turned to her audience and waggled her perfect eyebrows. Then, she leaned toward the suited man and offered the lime wedge.
He took it in his mouth, nuzzling her with his nose.
Everyone cheered like he’d done a triple back-flip off a high dive.
Savannah eyed the man’s crotch which revealed his well-endowed, fully engorged erection. She thought of Master Steele and a burst of arousal shot through her core.
The suited man leaned forward and dragged the lime wedge across white clad’s belly. She shivered and arched her back. He spat the lime wedge from his lips.
The waiter whisked it away. Then, the blonde added salt to the lime-smeared skin.
After that, the waiter dribbled a shot of golden liquid from a crystal decanter into the white-clad woman’s diamond studded navel.
The audience’s attention seemed rapt, focused on the suited man’s next moves.
Suited man slurped it up, then lapped the salted lime juice from her belly.
Applause sounded, along with l
aughter.
It all looked well-rehearsed, like a play, as far as the staff were concerned. Savannah kept her gaze sharp. But here, there seemed to be only fun and naughty games. She imagined the real heist was being planned behind closed doors.
“Give him some more,” someone called. “You’ve hardly caught a buzz, Silas.”
The blonde plucked a tiny vial from her cleavage. She poured a line of white powder from the vial along the showgirl’s collarbone.
The waiter held out a deck of playing cards to one of the women watching.
“Pick a card,” he said, splaying out the deck.
She plucked a card with her manicured thumb and forefinger.
“Queen of Hearts,” the waiter said, holding it aloft for all to see. He handed it to the blonde.
She used it to line up the white powder in a neat line.
Silas leaned forward, pressed one nostril closed, and sniffed the substance into his nose.
“Fuck yeah,” he said, tossing his head back and forth.
Ambrosia clapped her bejeweled hands. “Wonderful!” She tugged Savannah close. “Naeva, would you like a turn?”
Savannah’s belly did a flip-flop. “Honestly, Mother, I’m exhausted. I’d like to return to Fleur Rouge if you don’t mind.”
She let a gracious smile crossed her face.
Ambrosia’s eyes widened. “Fleur Rouge? Oh, we wouldn’t dream of letting you stay outside the club.”
Her heart instantly launched into a panicked stutter. I need to talk to Margaret. I need more info. I must go back to Fleur Rouge. What about my daily routine? My briefings?
“All of my belongings are there. All I want to do is curl up in my bed and sleep. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning.” She forced her smile to remain.
“Nonsense.” Ambrosia waved away her concerns. “I’ll send someone to retrieve your belongings.”
She turned back to the body shot scene.
Savannah’s breath caught in her throat. Her heartbeat clattered against her ribcage.
“Mother, no,” she said, hoping her alarm wasn’t evident. She’d left her dossier, her notes, everything, in plain view for prying eyes thinking it would be safe.
Ambrosia ignored her, intent on watching the suited man.
He proceeded to slurp the alcohol and the salted lime, then lowered his head between the white-clad woman’s legs and licked.
She arched and moaned.
A jolt of shame-laced arousal shivered through Savannah. She’d never witnessed this kind of behavior. She found it both disturbing and stimulating, in a dark and dirty sort of way.
Swallowing, she placed her hand on Ambrosia’s shoulder. “Mother, please.”
Her head turned to face Savannah. “What?”
“I’d prefer to stay at Fleur Rouge.” A Naeva detail drifted through her mind. Something about spending time at Marcus’s apartment with her supposed mother for the last time before she died. “I…you know how sentimental I am about that place. My mother and I…”
She faked a sorrowful moment, complete with teary eyes.
Ambrosia glanced at her, offering a sympathetic gaze. “Oh, fine. I’ll send for a driver… for you and your bodyguard.”
She turned toward a suited man standing against the wall watching the crowd. Lifting her hand, she snapped her fingers to get his attention.
When she snagged his attention, Ambrosia pointed at Savannah, pressed her palms together, and placed her hands on her cheek, indicating Savannah wanted to sleep.
He nodded, planted his fingertip to his ear, and said something to whoever he was wired to.
Ambrosia resumed staring at the suited man who kept up with his lusty cunnilingus appreciation of the woman before him.
Savannah turned to Adam.
He did that double blink thing.
She took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
A few minutes later, a light tap, tap, tap landed on her shoulder. She turned to see an elegantly suited woman, with her platinum-blonde hair in a neat bun.
“Hello,” the woman said loudly. “I’m Jenessa.”
She held out her hand.
“Naeva.” Savannah took the woman’s hand and softly shook it.
“Please come with me,” Jenessa said.
At least, that’s what Savannah thought she said. The noise in this room was deafening. She nodded.
Jenessa gestured to Adam.
The two of them followed Jenessa from the lounge. They strode past the black pedestal.
Jenessa stopped, telling the host, “For the future, whenever she arrives, Ms. Weathersby is to be let in immediately. She’s top level.”
He nodded.
“You can take her retina scan if you have a moment.”
“Of course,” he said. He reached behind the pedestal and produced a small black device. “Ms. Weathersby. Please stand here.”
He pointed in front of the podium.
She did so. Her stomach twisted and churned with dread. She drew her fingers into fists, trapping her anxiety. If the real Naeva ever comes here, I’m dead.
He tapped his right ear and said, “Look right here.”
She obliged him, nodding politely, while her anxiety spiked in sharp, angular thunderbolts of alarm.
A blinding light flashed in her eyes.
She blinked, trying to rid the whirling spots in her field of vision. She sought Adam’s calming gaze. I’m so screwed.
He focused his gaze on her, nodding his head at her almost imperceptibly.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling. He keyed in something into a screen reader, as Jenessa beckoned them to follow.
“What about Adam? Doesn’t he need his retina scanned?”
“Under no circumstances will he be allowed in the building without you.” Jenessa fit a gold key into a slot in the wall of the lift. The doors parted.
“I see.” Savannah gave Adam a side-eyed glance but made no further comment.
They stepped into the lift and descended the hundred floors to the bottom.
When the doors whooshed open, Jenessa placed her hand against the door frame and gestured for Savannah to exit.
They strode in silence until they reached a formidable looking metal door.
Jenessa lifted her hand to a security console and pressed a series of buttons. She leaned toward a retina recognition device and let it scan her eye.
A click sounded, and the door eased open.
“Next time, you won’t need me to accompany you.” Jenessa smiled curtly at Savannah. “You’ll enter through a different door.”
They stepped into a small room. A body scanner filled the space.
“Arms overhead, stare at the mirror.”
Savannah scanned for the person issuing the commands. All she could find was a small speaker, and black-domed camera lens pointed directly at her. Sweat popped out on her forehead and neck. Will they determine I’m an impostor? Savannah did as ordered while staring at the reflection of her bewildered expression. She forced her face to relax into a neutral expression. “Who reads the results?”
“The guards outside the door. They’re prepared to dispose of impostors. Discreetly, of course, not in full view.”
Dispose of? Savannah’s right eye ticked. Her scalp prickled. “I see.”
“You only have to do this once. After today, your physical signature will be programmed into the Club’s security system.
“I feel so safe knowing the Club uses such high levels of security,” Savannah lied.
“Don’t we all?” Jenessa said.
After Adam strode through the scanner, Jenessa pushed open the exit door. She stepped into an austere room, like the kind one might find at airport security. Void of anything remotely hinting at a personality, it consisted of beige walls, a beige tiled floor, and, a wooden table holding a computer monitor. Several monitors had been placed on the walls. Live videos of the club flashed on the screens. Double doors at the far end, faced her.
Two h
ulking bodyguards, indistinguishable from the others Savannah had met so far, stood outside the door. It seemed their sole job consisted of watching this door and scanning the monitors.
“Ms. Weathersby,” one of them said, nodding, his expression grim.
She lifted her chin in acknowledgment.
“Allow me.” With one giant stride, he reached for the double doors and opened it for them to exit.
Savannah stepped into the finest hotel lobby she’d ever encountered. Her gaze swept the room.
Two-story windows flanked two walls revealing a stunning, night-lit cityscape. Elegant chairs and low tables lined the plush rugs near the marble foyer floor. A fireplace roared with gas flames. At the far end stood a counter, with crisply dressed staff serving clientele.
“Is this where you enter the Club? I’m afraid I’ve never been inside,” she added, not wanting to blow her cover. She scanned her mind for memorized facts. “And I was all of seven when I last saw the building. We drove by but did not enter. Father never let me see much when I was a child.”
She lowered her gaze, trying to look demure.
“How silly of me. This is the main lobby of the Weir building. It’s been completely remodeled since you were here last so I doubt if you’d remember a thing. DC clientele use this area as a hotel. Those of your status take the lift we just rode to access the Club via a separate entrance. Here’s your key.” Jenessa extended the gold key.
“Thank you,” Savannah said, pretending she accepted keys to multi-billion-dollar fuck clubs every day.
“And here’s the secret code you need to enter.” She leaned close and whispered in Savannah’s ear.
“Got it.”
“Do not tell anyone!” Janessa commanded.
“I won’t.” Or, what?
“You’ll enter those doors where Boris and Silas let you in.” She pointed to the double doors. “Guard it with your life. No one, and I mean no one, can enter the Club without consent, without a code, or without that key.”
“Of course,” Savannah said, allowing herself to exchange another glance with Adam.
Jenessa led them outside to where a sleek black limo waited. The same driver who’d picked them up at the airport stood next to the car. He tipped his hat and opened the back door for Savannah.