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What the hell was the asshole getting at? Now wasn’t the time to grill him as I usually would, if for no other reason than Lark didn’t need the additional stress.
At least she pressed her back against my chest, accepting my gesture.
After a few seconds, he shifted his attention to something else. “Incidentally. Thank you for handing over the case. I’m looking forward to gaining national attention.”
“Good luck with it, Jeff. I’m certain you’ll do well.” Her remark was laced with her usual anger.
“Good to meet you, Lachlan. I’ve enjoyed spending time in your club and plan on continuing to do so. See you around, Lark. Enjoy your week of… caring for the animals.” Jeff laughed as he walked away, and she immediately bristled.
“Why are all men such animals?”
I laughed. “Because they can be. It’s in our nature to be primal. Hunters and gatherers?”
“That’s why women should rule the world.”
“I agree with you. Another case you’re working on?”
She didn’t answer me at first, narrowing her eyes as she walked away. “One I shouldn’t have been assigned in the first place.” The fact she remained annoyed with the man didn’t surprise me, but I sensed a hint of nervousness remaining.
“Come. You wanted to see if I worked for a living. Why don’t you meet my two partners?”
That seemed to surprise her. “I’d like that. Perhaps I’ll learn more about what makes you tick.”
“That could take several years,” I teased, guiding her toward the locked door leading to the bowels of Carnal Sins. As soon as I led her through the door, I glanced over my shoulder, noticing Jeff was still watching us. His abject sense of superiority grated my nerves.
When she started to walk away from me, I wrapped my hand around the back of her long neck, keeping her close. She shivered from my touch, the softness of her delicate skin a scintillating contrast to the rough pads of my fingers. Maybe it was wrong of me to enjoy parading her in front of hungry, powerful men, but the desire to gloat in a sea of expectant wolves was an unexpected pleasure.
I led her up the stairs, moving through the main sequestered bar. Both Grant and Jameson were entertaining Philip Dumas, the Frenchman celebrating his signed contract.
If she noticed there wasn’t a single man who wasn’t interested in her presence, her body language didn’t reflect it.
Jameson noticed us first, lifting his head in recognition, a sly smile crossing his face. “Our illustrious CEO had decided to join us,” he said, giving Lark a onceover.
“Welcome,” Grant murmured, lifting his glass. “The beautiful woman from the auction.”
“Lark Winston,” she said before I had the opportunity to introduce her.
Philip immediately rose to his feet where my partners remained in their chairs. As the Frenchman took her hand, bringing it to his lips, a fleeting moment of jealousy slammed into my system. I’d yet to determine whether I could trust Dumas, even though every deep dive into his personal life hadn’t offered a single indication that he was anything other than the accolades featured on his lengthy resume.
“When a woman of such exquisite caliber surrenders both her body and soul to a man such as Lachlan, it must be considered a gift from the heavens above.” Philip was stretching himself, yet I’d gotten used to the same kind of arrogance Lark had accused me of.
Lark’s reaction didn’t surprise me, her disdain toward dominating men the armor she enshrouded herself in to keep from facing the truth buried deep inside.
“That’s what I’ve been told, but I won’t be finding out,” she answered, both Jameson and Grant tossing me amused looks. Oddly, she shifted her body so she could see my reaction, tilting her lovely head to do so.
“My guest for the week doesn’t believe that Carnal Sins is a true business.”
“I didn’t say that exactly,” she corrected. “I just don’t understand the significance or the need for such a club.”
“Ah,” the three men said at the same time.
“Jameson, I thought you could provide a brief history of our creation. It might be beneficial for Mr. Dumas as well, if he hasn’t already heard about our illustrious careers ad nauseam.” While I provided the recommendation, I studied the men in the room. I’d heard a recent report on the girl’s murder as well as a report of another woman who worked at a sex club, as they’d called it. Although no details had been provided whatsoever, the reporter had alluded to the BDSM scene, his reaction much like Lark’s had been initially. The press was touting the murder as a sex crime when I knew otherwise. Perhaps it was because of misused instinct, but it was my belief that the person responsible for taking the young woman’s life had used the lifestyle as a cover.
Did that make it impossible that Davidson or another member wasn’t the killer? Of course not. But I’d bet my right testicle that it was a convenient shadow for his otherwise monstrous nature.
My gut also told me the police would be pounding on my door a second time, demanding information as well as insisting I turn over a membership roster.
That wasn’t going to happen.
