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My father’s driver drove us away from the house, knowing exactly where to go. This little get-together, which was more like a party than anything, was the first time I would be meeting the others. Having all those Black Hand wannabes in the same room should be interesting, not to mention all their heirs as well. My father had one of his guys check the place out. It had surveillance in every room, the high-rise building smack-dab in the center of downtown Cypress. If anyone tried anything there, they were stupid.
And no one had made it this far by being stupid.
I tried not to let my nerves get the better of me during the drive. The car was silent, save for the radio that played—at the lowest volume, of course. My father would never jam out to any tunes; he wasn’t the kind of man who ever let himself rock out or try to sing every fast word of a rap song. Doing so would be stooping beneath his level, and heaven forbid that.
I wasn’t sure how much longer it would be until the new Black Hand member was officially chosen. As far as my father was concerned, he had it in the bag, but I wasn’t as hopeful as he was. I did know, however, my father would do anything in his power to obtain the position and the power that came with it. The respect. The automatic allies. The way he would be able to skirt more laws every other citizen had to follow, all because the Black Hand had the police and the mayor in their pocket.
He’d interviewed with one of the Black Hand members already, but that’s all I knew. The pool had been narrowed down. This decision couldn’t be one that was done lightly or quickly; the Black Hand would take their time in order to make the right decision.
I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t anything. I was simply there for the ride, doing what my father wanted. That’s how I got through life most years, although lately I’d been wondering more and more what it would be like to do things for myself. It’s why I applied at the Playground.
Soon. I’d take back my life one step at a time.
We pulled up to the tall, fancy building in the center of downtown. The newest skyscraper among the rest, it stood out with its architecture gilded in gold and marble. A valet was stationed before it, but as we got out of the car, my father waved him off, giving the driver instructions on where to wait while we were here; when we were done, my father would call him to come pick us up.
My father offered me his arm, and even though I really, really didn’t want to, I took it, sliding my hand around the crook of it. It helped that he was wearing a suit, so it wasn’t skin on skin contact. I fought the waves of uneasiness rising inside me with how close I was to him, and we started to walk up the carpet that had been rolled out of the lobby of the building.
Zander walked behind us, and I knew his eyes were once again on me. My father probably told him to watch over me during this thing, and he was going to do his damnedest to never let me leave his sight. Goody. I loved having a babysitter.
We walked in through the open glass doors, greeted by someone on the waitstaff. They wore red and black, a small hat on their head. Must be the outfit of the night, because the valet had been wearing exactly the same clothes. We were led down the carpet, through the lobby. We passed a pair of golden elevators, rounding into a hall, still following the carpet all the while.
The heels I wore were only an inch and a half tall, so I had no trouble keeping my father’s pace as I clung to his arm—like I needed to be escorted. Or, I supposed, like I was escorting him.
The hall eventually ended beneath an archway, and beyond that archway was a rather large, spacious room with high ceilings and glass chandeliers. A stage had been set up on the far side of the room, while tables had been positioned on the side closest to us. The middle area of the ballroom looked to be the dancefloor, although most who were there were simply gathered around, talking to each other.
As the hostess left us, I did a quick count of the people in the room. Less than fifty. All were dressed in their finest, and the majority were men. That much wasn’t surprising; when given the choice between a son and a daughter, most in this line of work wanted a son, someone who could continue the bloodline.
Although girls did, too, but we lost our maiden names when we were married off. It’s what was expected of us.
My father dragged me through the tables, stopping only when we found the place cards that had our names on it. Just me and my father; Zander would have to stand around like a creep all night, I guess, but he had to be used to it by now.
Finally, my father let go of my arm, and I held in a sigh when I wiped the palm of that hand down along my dress, as if trying to wipe off the lingering sensation of my father’s warmth. I missed my gloves. I hated that he’d told me not to wear them. They made situations like that slightly more bearable.
Although, if I was serious about the Playground, I supposed gloves should be the least of my worries. I should get used to no gloves, get used to people touching me. That was the whole point, wasn’t it?
Almost immediately, a waiter came to ask what we’d like to drink, and my father ordered for us both, “Wine for me. Sparkling water for my daughter.” As the waiter bowed his head and walked away, my father’s eyes moved to me. “Well, let’s get the introductions started.”
I said nothing, and we waited for the waiter to return with our drinks on a golden tray before pushing away from the table and heading into the crowd in the center of the room. Zander didn’t come with us; he remained near the table, his hands folded behind his back, looking like a watchful hawk.
As we walked over, my father whispered, “I trust you will do your best not to embarrass me tonight. You know first impressions are important. You need to leave a lasting impression on the Hand.” He took a sip of his wine.
“Yes, Daddy,” I said, wishing I could toss the sparkling water in his face and walk away, leave this stupid place, and never come back.
We approached a man and a woman on the outskirts of the crowd, and the moment they saw us, their expressions brightened. “Miguel,” the woman spoke, a wide smile on her face. “I was hoping you’d change your mind about tonight.” A middle-aged woman with blond hair stood before us, wearing a dark gray dress that hugged her body snugly. Diamonds sparkled on her ears and neck, and she could not stop smiling, even as she turned those eyes to me.
Beside her, the man who must be her husband offered my father his hand, saying, “It’s good to see you again, Miguel.”
“And you,” my father replied, taking his hand and shaking it. “I can’t thank you enough for supporting me in this.” He did not smile, but he looked as amiable as he ever did. “Have you met my daughter yet?”
I knew who these two were. My father had a few connections in Cypress, and this family was one of them. The Palmers. He’d done business with them years back, and something about them had made him keep them close. Maybe my father was waiting for a chance to pounce on the Black Hand, and a vacating position was the perfect excuse.
“I don’t think so, no,” the woman spoke, offering me her hand. “I’m Molly Palmer, dear.”
Though I knew it might anger my father, I didn’t take her hand. I just gave her a smile and said, “Giselle. It’s good to meet you.” I made sure to sound as sugary sweet as possible, but even that wasn’t enough to make her forget about the snub of me not shaking her hand.
There would be a lot of that tonight. My father should’ve let me wear my damned gloves.
“A pretty name,” Molly Palmer spoke before introducing her husband. “This is my husband, Randy. You should go upstairs—my son is with many of the other heirs. You could tell him dinner will be served shortly.” Giving me an order, and we’d just met. Yeah, that sounded about right.
