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Hunting-chic, if that were a style, would be how I’d describe Neri’s watery lair.
“Perhaps you’d like another drink before we move on?” Neri asked. He must have seen my graceless moves in the helicopter. My arm felt sticky from the spilled champagne.
I spotted the bar ahead, with a lot of brass adding to the white marble. “Um. Sure.”
Neri’s man moved toward the bar, but I stopped him. “No, it’s okay. I’ll do it.”
The man ignored me and kept moving.
“Henry, it’s fine,” Neri said. Then, he turned to me. “We’re not dealing with our usual kind of poppet. This one has a few more preemptive moves than what we’re used to.”
I offered a tentative smile before passing Henry and taking up position behind the bar.
“Afraid I’ll do something to your drink?” Neri asked, his voice containing the velvet of a tempting threat.
“I’m afraid anyone will, given the opportunity,” I responded.
Glasses, glasses, where were the glasses … I bent down to search the lower cupboards. My heartbeat had to be as loud and audacious as the helicopter blades that had just departed. Subtly, I reached into my cleavage.
“I have no such fear. Pour me one as well, my dear.”
I straightened, propping two lowball glasses laser cut from crystal on the bartop. Turning, I found a fourteen-year-old scotch that should do nicely, and despite the circumstances, the glug and slosh of the copper liquid were comforting sounds in this otherwise silent room. Not even the waves dared to splash against the yacht’s hull.
“Wait.”
Henry held up an arm when I made to carry the drinks to Neri, who had sat himself on the couch below the—Elk? Antelope? Impala?—red-painted skeleton horns. I didn’t realize Henry had taken up such close residence near the bar.
“I’ll try it first,” he said.
“Neri has a poison-taster?” I asked before thinking to shut up.
Henry didn’t bother to respond. He grabbed a small straw from the bar, sipped, plugged the mouth hole to prevent any backwash, then discarded the plastic.
Aprofessionalpoison taster.
Henry held up a finger when I went to take the glass, I guess waiting for any effects. Sighing, I said, “Should I make you one, too?”
Seemingly satisfied, Henry handed the glass back. “I’ll take this one. Make the boss a fresh one.”
I didn’t waste time, bending down to grab another glass and poured. Henry was close, but easily distracted by my ass. When I straightened, I made sure to adjust my breasts, an added bonus. I then went to Neri, who unfurled from his laid-back stance and nodded his thanks.
After tasting, he said, “You chose one of the good ones.”
“I know good scotch when I see it,” I said.
“Excellent. Then you won’t mind drinking some of mine.”
He patted the cushion next to him, and after brief hesitation, I took it. Every synapse in me wanted to scream out, but I met his stare with placid calm.
I smiled, took his glass, and drank deep. I made sure my swallow was audible when I handed it back.
“Good girl,” he said calmly. He turned the glass until he found my lipsticked rim, tilted it so his lips met my stain, and drank. His eyes didn’t linger on anything but me.
“As wonderful as it would be to sit here and pick your brain,” Neri said, lowering his glass and resting against the pillows with no cares, no fear. “You only have so many hours at my disposal.”
If it was a question, I didn’t want to answer it. He discussed this night like it had allotted hours, like a transaction, but his attitude contradicted his words. I’d been involved in a lot of fucked-up moments and avoided plenty, but this was not a time I was here for. The deepest part of me, the part of my mind I’d inherited millions of years ago from my ancestors, told me that there was another plan in place, something sinister.
Neri set down his drink and rose, and I automatically mimicked him.
