We entered the house and Barrett was bombarded by her children. They wrapped their arms around her legs, and I watched as she tried not to cry, tried not to let every fear she’d ever had leak out into their lives.
She spoke quietly to the nannies that cared for the boys, asking them to spend the night because she needed to head to London. I handed off Piper’s carrier to one of the waiting young women, knowing Piper was in good hands and would want for nothing.
“I need to pack,” Barrett said to me. “And then I need to borrow your jet.”
Chapter32
BARRETT
The bellman standingoutside the burlesque club shot me a sympathetic smile while his gaze raked over me. I was dressed in a vintage cigar-girl costume, complete with big hair and bright red lips.
“I’m sorry, miss. The club is closed to the public this evening.”
I appreciated that he’d called memissand flashed him a flirty smile. “You’re new, and you don’t recognize me.”
“I just started a couple of weeks ago,” he said in a posh English accent. It went well with his black and gold uniform.
“Flynn Campbell…he’s inside the club?”
“Yes. How do you—”
“Do me a favor,” I interrupted. “Tell him Barrett Schaefer is here to see him and let him know I’m wearing a vintage cigar-girl costume.”
“I don’t know,” he hedged. “I don’t want to get into trouble. He said not to be disturbed under any circumstances.”
“Trust me.” I winked. “I’ll see to it you get a hefty bonus if you do me this favor.”
My words finally swayed him. I watched as he squared his shoulders and then opened the heavy wooden door of the burlesque club. Sounds of big band music momentarily filtered through the lobby, but when the door closed, all was silent again.
There had been no long-lasting effects of the seizure. Aside from a little bit of tiredness and a few sore muscles, I felt fine.
I wasn’t, but I wanted to play dress up and make-believe. For just a little while longer.
A few moments later, the young man returned. “Enjoy your evening, Miss Schaefer.”
I flashed a saucy grin. “Thank you.”
He opened the door for me, and I sauntered inside the burlesque club that looked the same as the one in New York, with only a few minor differences which would appeal more to the English propensity for opulence.
Two young women were performing a song and dance duet, removing satin red gloves, and tossing them into the audience full of Japanese businessmen.
I surveyed the room. Flynn was sitting alone in a booth. He saw me and beckoned with a chin nod. A zing of excitement trekked down my spine. I loved it when we played games.
A waitress came to him and dropped off a drink and then flitted away to serve the patrons who were clearly enjoying the entertainment.
Vaudevillian bulbs lined the stage and illuminated the dancers, but the club itself was dark except for the gas sconces on the walls. The brass band was loud, the drinks were plentiful, and the tone of the room was full of excitement.
Blood pumped through my veins, the boldness of the music transporting my soul to a different time and place.
The song came to an end and the red velvet brocade curtains shut. One of the dancers popped her head out and blew the audience a kiss. Patrons rose to their feet, clapping in exuberance.
I sauntered up to Flynn’s table. “You look lonely, Mr. Campbell,” I purred. “Might I be able to cheer you up?”
He turned his head and looked up at me. A sensual grin spread across his perfect lips. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
I slid into the booth next to him, grabbed his drink, and took a sip. It wasn’t SINNERS. I raised my brows. “Balvenie?”
“Of course.”
