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What I need to do is leave.
No. What I need to do is wait a few minutes.
He’s still up there and these are unusual circumstances.
Normally, I’d have been out the door or window so fast and quietly that only the most alert of security would have seen me. But he knows I was up to something. Hendrick knows who I am. If he thinks I stole, if he found the missing necklace, then he’s going to make a move now.
He’ll have security looking, searching the grounds, the entrances, all these rooms.
I’m at the bar in the corner, a good vantage point. If there’s a ripple of commotion, even one that shifts beneath the surface, I’d notice.
I’m already marking out the best places to go in here if that happens. I can call and send the car off and hide in the mansion until it all goes down.
Stealing from the coat check sounds great, but it’s not ideal. That’s all about timing and luck and then I still have to get out the door.
The back kitchens where deliveries come and go could be smart…if I had a uniform.
But hiding, waiting, and then working my magic and dismantling the alarm system after the place is shut down and darkened when this party ends is the best bet.
If the ripples appear, Hendrick will expect me to leave immediately. So I’ll wait. Pretend our fluids aren’t wet on my thighs. I didn’t bring anything like a cloak or coat or even a shrug. It’s not much of a distance from the door to the car when it pulls up.
I check my phone.
It’s there.
I text the driver I’ll be out shortly, and I take a final swallow of my drink. I’m about to set it down when a shadow falls over me and all my nerves spark and jump.
“Did you fucking do it, MG?”
“Fuck off, Jac.”
He grabs my wrist, his hand squeezing tight. “You changed your hair.”
“You shouldn’t be talking to me.”
Jac Miller offers me a nasty smirk. His free hand, the tattoos quite beautiful as they show from his snow white shirt, slides up to my throat. He brushes his finger over a tender spot there, then he slips down, between my breasts, and over so he can cup one beneath the fabric.
The brazen move shocks even me, even though I watched him do this to Nora, even as he closes his fingers to grip my breast.
“Nice little tits, MG. Did you do it?”
For a moment my brain goes to sex with Hendrick. But then I realize that’s not what he means. He’s talking about me stealing jewels no one knew were here in the first place. “This is not the place—”
“You think,” he says, shifting in close, that lavender, leather, and honey of him winding about me, “you think I give a fuck about where we are? You think I give a fuck about Hendrick Agnossio and his boring and staid fucking ways? The guy’s worthless. Probably can’t fuck his way out of anything.”
“And you?” I ask.
“What do you think?”
“I think…” I’m almost positive he’s up there with Hendrick in his skills between the sheets, that the confidence isn’t just ego, it comes from truth. That doesn’t change the fact he’s an asshole and I don’t like him, but he’s not delusional that way.
He’s far more dangerous than a man with a small dick and bad performance complex. Worse than a man who has no idea how to please a woman.
“I think,” I say again, “that you’re the kind of man who’ll maul a girl in public because he can because he’s a sadistic SOB with issues.”
“Really?”
I lift my face to him and bring my free hand in, sliding it over his cock. “Really.”
