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“Think someone binge-watchedLifestyles of the Rich and Famous?” Eric muttered, and Rhianne snickered a little, appreciating the moment of levity. But a moment later, her nerves had reasserted themselves, reminding her of all that was at stake. She squashed down the thoughts that were trying to intrude—her reaction to Eric’s nearness, how she felt about what she and Eric had done, how she felt aboutEric—and centered herself in the moment. She needed to keep her focus on the mission.
She didn’t need Eric’s discreet nudge to get her to notice the guards ringing the landing of the next floor up, looking down on them…or Arturo, flanked by his choicest sentries, circulating among them. It was obviously a formal vetting event. She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if she said or did something to blow their cover now.
“Ah, the lovely Raquel!” Arturo raised a hand to wave at her and Eric and, oh God, came over. “Welcome to my home!” He threw his arms wide, then clasped her upper arms and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
Rhianne’s skin crawled. For a horrifying second, she was afraid she’d throw up, and it took everything in her to smile graciously back at him.
“Beautiful place,” Eric said, drawing Arturo’s attention away from her, for which Rhianne was beyond grateful.
Arturo beamed. “Thank you. The artwork is, of course, original.” He draped an arm around Eric’s shoulders. “Let us go talk to the men, yes?” He gestured to the right of the staircase, where a handful of male guests were sitting on small sofas and chairs grouped around a table, with waitstaff hovering. “Leave the women to their gossip?”
He jerked his chin to the other side of the hall, where the female halves of the couples were gathered and from where exclamations and trills of fake laughter rang. As Rhianne locked eyes with Eric, not wanting to leave his side, Arturo made a shooing motion with one hand.
“No drink?” he scolded Eric. “I have only the best tequila.”
“Sounds good,” Eric replied.
“Oh, it is. You’ll see. Tequila shots?” he called across to the men, who all signaled their agreement and enthusiasm for his suggestion. “Raquel, go get us a tray of tequila shots, hm? All of my waiters seem to be missing so you can run along and fetch it for us, yes?” He pointed across the hall to where the bar was set up in an alcove.
Rhianne met Eric’s eyes and she pasted on a smile. With a fake, “Of course!” she skipped off before Arturo could slap her ass to send her on her way, like he had done to the hostesses in the club. She didn’t know what she’d do if Arturo touched her again.
“Look at that. You’re a lucky man,” she heard Arturo tell Eric as she walked off. “To have a piece like that all your own.”
Rhianne fought the instinctive balling of her hands into fists, especially when Eric replied, “Yeah, I know.” She would have been even more angry if she hadn’t caught his, “Boy, do I know.” He sounded absolutely smitten.
Okay. She’d fetch drinks from the bar set up off one side of the hall, like a glorified waitress…and take the opportunity to look around the first floor, like a spy. Moving slowly and sticking close to the wall, she circled the perimeter of the hall without attracting any attention, then slipped behind a huge potted palm. She’d noticed the dramatic plant earlier—it blocked off the beginning of a small corridor leading from the main hall. She’d give herself ten minutes to look around. That was reasonable, wasn’t it?
The corridor seemed normal, except it narrowed as it went on, around a bend, and the glamorous décor from the main hall was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it led to servants’ quarters? Rhianne thought her guess was correct when the passage ended in a wide door. She rushed to try it. Damn. Locked tight. It wouldn’t budge an inch.
Her heart banged under her ribs as another thought occurred to her—maybe that was where the girls were kept? She examined the lock, wishing she knew anything about how locks could be picked. The keys to such a door would be kept somewhere safe—like on Arturo himself or with a trusted guard, and she couldn’t imagine she’d have the chance to get her hands on them. She pressed her ear to the door and heard muffled thumps behind it. Footsteps! Someone was emerging. She couldn’t be caught here!
Taking her shoes off and hiking up her dress with her other hand, Rhianne sprinted to the top of the corridor and the plant she’d seen from the main hall. She had just enough time to slip back on her shoes and smooth down the creases in her dress before approaching footsteps told her the man was right behind her. A second later, a burly figure pushed past the makeshift screen and almost cannoned into her.
He loosed a string of apologies at the same time he eyed her with a little suspicion in his gaze. Neither his words nor his mistrust grabbed her attention as much as the huge submachine gun he toted did.
“I don’t speak muchEspañol,” Rhianne lied with an apologetic grimace. “But I was looking for the bathroom. Um…el baño? Is it this way? No? Do you think I should try over there, then?” she asked, pointing across the main hall where there was another hallway—this onenothidden behind a palm tree. That probablywasthe actual place to find the bathroom. Either way, heading over there would get her away from this frightening-looking man. Without waiting for him to answer, she flashed him a smile and hurried out into the main hall.
Just in case the guard was watching, she went down the other passageway and ducked briefly into the bathroom, long enough to check her appearance. Then she went to the bar and ordered the tequila. Her hands shook a little as she carried it over to the men, and she forced herself to breathe in and out slowly to calm down.
“I’m so sorry for the delay!” she exclaimed, bending low to set the tray down in front of Arturo, hating herself for using her cleavage as a way to distract him. “I had to stop by the little girls’ room first.”
Arturo waved away her apologies, returning his focus to the men after he’d taken a good long look down the front of her dress. She wondered if he’d even heard what she’d said. “Gentlemen…” He took a shot glass and gestured for the men to do the same. “To your very good luck at the auction! You will surely find what you’re looking for there.”
His smile lecherous, he knocked back his shot.
11
Eric saw Rhianne slip her untouched post-dinner liqueur back onto the tray when the server came over with another round. He didn’t blame her for abstaining, or for not having more than a few bites of the entire four-course meal. He’d had to force himself to swallow anything down, too.
He’d been trying to study the house’s layout as much as possible and estimate the number of staff and guards to try to gauge how much opposition they’d face if something went wrong at the auction, but it was frustratingly hard to be certain. He couldn’t wait to touch base with Charlie, feeling certain that his friend would have gathered more intel for them. He could only hope it would be enough.
Between his eagerness for an update, and his disgust for absolutely everyone at the event except for Rhianne, he could hardly wait to get out of there. Rhianne was just as eager as him to leave—but her reason seemed to be that she had something to say, because they were barely out of the main door when she pulled him closer to her. “Eric—”
“Not here.” His reply was swift. The few people who were strolling in a loose group with them back to their cabanas might not seem to be paying attention, but Eric knew better than to take anything at face value. He also assumed the staff and guards were probably ordered to watch and listen for anything untoward or suspicious. “Wait.”
Something Rhianne wasn’t very good at.
“Night,” Eric called across to their neighbors at last when he and Rhianne reached their door. His arm around Rhianne, they both waved.
