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“They aren’t my keepers, and you know that. No one is my keeper.” Her words are a bit cold but I watch this interaction and wonder about their history. “I’m sorry, Murph is rude. I’m Isabel Marcos. I’m the host, well my husband and I are the hosts of tonight’s event.” This must be Penn’s client.
The name Marcos is very familiar. “Nice to meet you. I’m Anisten Atkins, a partner with Coultier, Artmann, Mann, Armstrong, and Atkins.”
“Yes, Penn told me you’d be here. But, Anisten, you say, right?” she asks, extending her hand to mine.
“That’s correct.” I don’t miss the exchange between Isabel and Finnegan.
“It’s so nice to meet you.” Her smile is sincere but I still can’t place why she seems so familiar.
A very thin but tall man with balding hair quickly approaches us, placing a protective arm around the beauty I know as Isabel.
“Let’s go, honey, we’re needed on the other end of the room.” He shoots Finnegan a death glare by the looks of it and mouths only for us to see, “Stay the fuck away from my wife.” And they disappear into the crowd.
“I’d assume she’s an ex of yours?”
He downs a shot but nods his head slightly.
“Sorry,” I offer. And he waves me off.
“Used to it. It’s my fault after all. Don’t ever get involved with your best friend’s little sister. Lost the girl, almost lost the friend.”
“Yeah, I can see it being a bad thing all the way around, but he doesn’t seem like her type.” Unlike Penn, a silver fox and any woman’s dream, Isabel Marcos’s husband is not. The man is in his late fifties or early sixties. Then Finnegan’s words hit, with the name Isabel had used for him, and the familiar look I couldn’t place. “Wait, Finnegan, is Isabel…?”
“Heaven?” the voice calls to me and I wonder if I’ve dreamt it because he’s always in my dreams.
“The answer would be yes; she’s Luc’s sister.” Finn grins when a protective hand wraps around my waist, a snarl from Luca’s lips is a warning to his friend.
“I’m not touching, don’t worry. But look at the time. I’ve given my money and my thirty minutes, so I’m out of here. After all, there’s this event I don’t plan to miss tonight.” He gives me a wink and pats Luca on the shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, but my body freezes and I can’t seem to move.
He sips his amber liquid and sloshes it around before answering me. “This is my sister’s charity event. And you, what’s your reason?”
“Penn had something come up last minute. He asked me to attend in his absence.” I barely get it all out. But as I process I’m in the same room and space as Luca, I back up. I’m afraid to touch him because I might not stop.
“Yeah, I’m familiar with what came up. The same reason Murph left so quickly. He can’t stand seeing my sister with another.”
Isabel Marcos didn’t look happy when her husband, easily twenty years her senior, wrapped his arms around her. Or, how she looked longingly at Finn when he dragged her away. But I keep this to myself.
“Let me guess, you know Penn through…” I trail off because I don’t want to think of Penn, my friend and boss, as a Dom. But I don’t know Finn well, so I can be a little more invasive. “Finn is a member, too? Of that sex club you’re a part of, am I right?”
His eyes burn with my question. Yes, I may have overstepped but I don’t care. “This is all you’ll get out of me, Heaven, concerning this topic. Don’t you ever try to make someone’s desires sound twisted or perverse. Everything is consensual, as it had been with us.”
Knowing Luca as I do, it’s all he’ll say of the matter, for now. I know nothing of the lifestyle, but I’ve been warned that the club is very tight-lipped in their community and respects the privacy of others.
“First gold, now silver. You’re beautiful shining in all that glitter, Heaven.” He continues to stare, lowering his gaze to the plunge of my cleavage.
I still haven’t gotten a free drink from the bar, and my three champagnes aren’t enough, not with my body too close to Luca’s.
“Need a drink?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing my hand and tugging me forward. “A vodka tonic for the lady and your top-shelf bourbon for me.”
He turns back around. “Ever been taught manners, like please and thank you?” I jest.
“Nah, that shit’s overrated. Anyway, haven’t you heard? I’m Luca De Santos, baby. People expect me to be rude.”
The bartender slides us over our drinks. “Thanks,” I call out, and I’m given a small smile but when Luca hands him a twenty-dollar bill, the man brims from ear to ear.
“Anyway, Heaven, I know how to reward people for a job well done. They don’t want words of affirmation, but real-life results.”
