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“He’s obviously desperate.”
He smiles, a deliciously dark smile that makes me relax almost immediately. I can always rely on my brother to rise to the occasion, and it’s obvious he has.
“Gina overheard a conversation with a man called Victor Gregory.”
“The lawyer?”
“Apparently so. He was angry. He was yelling and neglected to close the door to his den, and didn’t realize Gina had let herself in. Anyway, she recorded his side for my eager ears and the upshot was he was referring to your visitor.”
“Allegra?” My blood runs cold as Killian nods.
“He was shouting that she gets a cut of his father’s will over his dead body and there must be something they can do to change it. He called her and her brother bastards, who have no right to his inheritance.”
I lean back as everything becomes clear and I shake my head and say thoughtfully, “Am I mistaken in thinking Jefferson was good friends with Mario Bachini? Such good friends that he wasn’t averse to taking part in a few rituals himself?”
Killian grins. “You know, I heard that too. What a small world.”
We share a look because Gina has outdone herself this time. We have our motive, and we have our man. Now we need to mess with his plan.
CHAPTER35
ALLEGRA
Alice is a godsend. A miracle worker and a star. Somehow, I made myself look respectable and as soon as I arrived in my office, there was a coffee waiting for me and a broad smile on Alice’s face.
“I’ve been working on the campaign.” She says almost before I close the door.
“I figured we needed an angle. Something to draw the crowds in. An incentive even. Something with a short timeline, blink or you’ll miss it kind of thing.”
“That sounds great. What do you have in mind?”
Her face falls. “I don’t know. I’ve tossed a few ideas around, but they’ve been done before. It needs to be something enticing. A must attend kind of evening.”
“Evening?” I raise my eyes.
“Yes.” She grins. “I don’t pretend to know a lot about lap-dancing clubs, but I can guess. We need to understand the clientele. Discover what they like, why they go there and what makes them tick.”
As I remember my own experience of that club, I wonder if I should tell her.
She taps her pen on the desk and appears thoughtful.
“An event perhaps. A golden ticket to something amazing. We have such a small window of opportunity we need to go all in on this.”
“I’ve got it.” I stare at her as the lightbulb goes off in my head.
“Fantasy.”
“I don’t understand.” She looks puzzled as I stand up and begin pacing around the office, the dots connecting in my head as I speak.
“We could call it fantasy night. Be whoever you want to be.”
“Fancy dress?” She looks doubtful, and I laugh.
“No. Masquerade. Everyone wears a mask concealing their identity. That way nobody need worry about being seen by their boss or their wife, husband, or whoever else they would prefer to avoid. Nobody knows who you are, and you get to enjoy the facilities anonymously. Tickets can be purchased online, and no personal details will be revealed. All they must do is turn up on the night and enjoy the show.”
She stares at me thoughtfully as she processes the information, and I say with excitement. “We could call it the golden ticket night. Anonymity guaranteed. A night when you can step outside normality and be anyone you want to be.”
“Do you think it will work?” she says doubtfully, and I nod.
