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When she didn't answer me, I rushed to catch up. "I don't know that I need to meet with the board. Maybe there's a teller, or a loan officer..." My words trailed off as I watched her pull out an ornate key from her pocket, smoothly fitting it through a keyhole.
"Unfortunately, we don't employ any of those positions here."
"But...” I was so confused.
"We provide specialized, personal service. Each of our members receives one-on-one assistance.” She gave me a tight smile, extending her arm to guide me through the doorway. “Go ahead. I’m not allowed entry.”
"Oh." I walked forward, entering a dark hallway lit with soft yellow sconce lights on the walls. “Why no?—“
I was cut off by the door shutting behind me, and a definitive click of the knob. My mouth dropped open.
Did she just lock me in?
I tried it. The knob rattled but didn't budge. Stunned, I swiveled on my feet, panic flittering through my chest.
Now that my eyes were used to the low light, I could see another door at the end of the hallway. "Okay then," I spoke to myself, "Guess I'll just go that way." This place was definitely weird.
Steeling myself, I walked quickly towards the exit to find another black iron door with the same insignia as the front entrance. I swung it open. What had you been into, dad?
I jolted when I saw a large group of men and women in the shadows of the room, all staring at me.
CHAPTER 14
Rook
My gaze burned through Maxon, who was standing in the shadows of the dining club.
I didn’t usually attend the monthly conclaves—they were meant for socializing and making deals, but I was here to look for any cracks in Saul’s security. And though Maxon’s eyes were sharp, his gaze continually on the room, he pointedly avoided the area where I was seated.
And yet, I had no illusions that eyes weren’t watching me; Maxon would have other means to keep tabs on me.
Powerful men sat in pewter leather sofas at glistening mahogany tables. Plates with stuffed lobster, steak au poivre, and truffle mushroom risotto. Deep red-blood wine stained greedy lips.
The air was pungent with the murmur of conquest and gluttony. Men here to stuff their swollen bellies with both food and cash. Assistants adorned their sides, immaculately dressed and mute.
A movement at the front of the room caught my attention—Saul looking up from his phone and towards the door. Then he leaned back in his chair, pulling the chain tight on his pet alligator.
I tightened my fist on the knife by my untouched plate. If only I could jump over the tables and kill him with his own steak knife.
“Please, gentlemen,” the black, bald man sitting in the front of the room cleared his throat. The room lulled in conversation at the quiet command from the Magnus. As head of the Magnolia chapter, Emerson Forten could destroy you with a simple word and thus, demanded respect.
As the front door swung open, Saul’s gaze moved to me.
I froze, holding tight the impassive look on my face. Whatever came next, I knew I wasn’t going to like it.
I narrowed my focus in on the form now entering the room. It was a woman—the blue velvet of her dress moving like flowing water as she slid through the black, gothic, iron door.
The shock of her white-blonde hair gave her away, and my heart caught in my throat. Shit. Shit. Shit.
A grin slithered up Saul’s face, his eyes alight with bright curiosity.
Fuck!
What the hell was Summer Duvall doing here, at the Magnolia?
I’d been attempting to dispel her from my thoughts, despite keeping an eye on her. And yet, here she was, like a fucking curse.
Despite the inner turmoil raging inside, I effected a bored look, forcing my gaze away from the innocent bunny who’d entered the slaughterhouse.
