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“No,” I said simply.
“Okay, I’ll have someone drive by to pick you up to drive you to the warehouse to get ready.”
“Why don’t I get ready here?”
You might not have noticed, but the water isn’t on. Casey is working on it. I assumed you’d want to take a shower.”
I don’t need to sniff under my arms to know I needed one.
“You’re right.”
“I’ll have Casey order a few dresses, and you can pick one of the litter. You’re my plus one at a charity gala at the Watermark.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“The Watermark Hotel? So, a high-end guest list, huh?”
“Right. Part of the gala displays native artifacts and art local to the area. You’ll use your unerring ability to figure out which artifact is the one we’re looking for next, and we get it and leave.”
“Got it, Boss.”
“It will be a black dress, though, tonight. You need to not stand out.”
“Sounds good. See you soon.”
I gaze longingly at the bed, lusting for a nap and knowing I won’t get one.
The driver picked me up, and twenty minutes later, I strolled into the warehouse’s atrium. Casey barely glanced up to greet me, and the day doorman winked at me on my way past.
Sure enough, five black cocktail and evening gowns hang in the walk-in closet in the bedroom Thorn assigned me. I discarded the plunging neckline Bodycon, which won’t leave me room for tools under it, and the ultra-mini, even though it’s so cute I want to take it home with me.
I settled for a strappy A-line that fell a couple of inches above the knee and a pair of black pumps. I twisted my hair back to make the blonde stand out more than the pink and kept my makeup simple—mascara, raspberry gloss, and a hint of raspberry blush.
Nothing would stand out or make people watch me too hard. However, I did appreciate the black silk stockings with tiny rhinestones that made my legs sparkle. If they last the night, those are going home with me.
A knock sounded at the door as I tucked the last flyaway away from my face.
“Ms. Barlow, your car is here,” one of the guys called.
I looked myself over one last time in the mirror and decided I was good to go. Heading down the stairs, the door guy gave me a long wolf whistle.
“You clean up good, Bloodhound.”
“Bloodhound, that’s a new one. I think I like it.”
“Got me whistling for you, that’s for sure.”
I’m blushing as he opens the door for me. “You can whistle, but I can’t promise that I’ll come.”
He leaned in like he did the other day and whispered, “I’ve had no complaints from the ladies before.”
Waves of lust rolled off him, and if they weren’t so overwhelming, I would be flattered. Chastity’s warning that the Hand of Belial amplified lust rang in my head once more, and I decided it wasn’t as much fun to have men drool over me, knowing the object in my chest compelled men to act like this.
I nearly stumbled, stepping down the first step out the door, and I cleared my throat to cover for the near-gasp I made. “Have a good night.”
Before me, a stretch limo waited. The driver opened the back door and winked at me as I entered. Thorn waved me in and handed me a flute of champagne from a bottle that came from a silver bucket of ice at his side.
I took the glass and sipped the wine as the driver shut the door after one long look at my legs.
