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I turn and pull my hair up for him to zip the dress. His tongue trails up my back just ahead of the zipper, then he slides a hand between my legs, and I open for him. If I had any doubts before, I have none now about why this dress has such a high side slit.
“Take off your panties,” he growls in my ear.
“W-why? We’re going to be late.”
He smacks my ass with his other hand. “You’re being such a bad girl right now.”
“Brian…”
“Because I want easy access at the party tonight.”
His words send a bolt of desire through me even more potent than what his hand between my thighs commands.
“How do you know Drake?” I ask again, leaning back against him. He presses open mouthed kisses over my throat, playing at the edges of my collar that most people outside the house believe to be just a nice piece of jewelry. The platinum filigree choker, inlaid with onyx stones to match my grandmother’s ring really does go with everything.
“I’ve done a few jobs for him in the past,” Brian says.
I pull back and spin around to face him. “What?!?”
“How else would he know so many professionals?” He says this as though the only profession in the world is murder for hire.
“So now you all are fighting to be the one to kill him?”
Brian shrugs. “It’s just business.”
I think there’s more to it, but I let it go.
“Is it an open contract?” I ask as I go to our closet and slip into a pair of black heels.
“I’m assured I’m the only one who’s been asked, but I’m not sure I trust the guy.”
“If you don’t trust the guy, then why are you taking the job?”
Brian shrugs, and I know he has no plans to say anymore about this right now.
It’s after dark when we arrive at the Windsor Estate. The heavily guarded iron gate extends around Drake Windsor’s massive property which seems to go on for miles. I grip Brian’s arm and lean in to whisper in his ear as we walk along the well-lit path up to the front door.
“What about weapons?” I whisper.
“No weapons,” he says. “They’ll pat us down and send us all through a metal detector inside.”
“Then how in the fuck are we going to do this? Are you planning to kill him with your bare hands?”
Brian shrugs. “I could. He’s too refined to get his own hands dirty. He’s old money.”
“What does he do? Besides hiring assassins to kill all his enemies.” You’d think Brian would have listed this man’s profession on the murder wall.
“Oil magnate.”
“Is that even still a thing?”
“Apparently,” he says.
“I thought you’d tell me he was in the tech industry.”
Brian laughs. “I saidoldmoney.”
“Fossil fuel. Checks out.” Dinosaurs are for sure old.
