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When they departed their hotel suite in Puerto Vallarta, Mitch was completely at Candace’s mercy. People would ask questions, such as why Vanessa would “loan” someone as precious as the infamous Michelle to a woman for such a high-profile party. Candace claimed to have everything sorted, such as leaving it all up to her, and to wear and do as told.
At least she has good taste in clothes.Mitch did her own hair and makeup, but the outfit was 100% Candace, all the way down to the blue corset dress and fishnets that disappeared into a pair of black pumps. Mitch was far from the only scantily clad woman milling about the ballroom and downing shots or nursing glasses of wine. While Candace wore a black cocktail dress that left much to the imagination, Mitch was surrounded by both older and younger women in either full-fetish getups or showing off more skin than they could get away with in a club.
“Stay close to me,” Candace said as they approached the main bar in the ballroom. “People are known to not keep their hands to themselves at this party.”
Mitch was already distracted by a short woman in bunny ears and a cotton tail who squealed to hear two half-drunk men fight over her for the night. “I thought that was part of the appeal,” Mitch said.
“Cute. Keep your clothes on when you’re with me.”
“If we get separated?”
“Listen.” Candace squeezed Mitch’s forearm as her voice fell to a crisp whisper. “I’ve struck many deals with your Mistress these past few weeks, but I took the last one to heart. You’re not to be alone with anyone but me. You’re not to allow anyone to touch you, do you understand? If someone helps themselves, tell me immediately. I personally know the man running this party.”
“Do you have clout with him, though?”
“I’m his fucking godmother, so I better.”
Mitch hadn’t anticipated that. It was another piece of information to tell Agent James when they debriefed the next week.
“I know the rules,” Mitch said, maintaining the playful demeanor this woman paid her for, “but Vanessa won’t be mad if I enjoy the view. There are a lot of pretty people here.”
“My God.” Candace was already on edge, as Mitch hoped. “You really are a slut.”
Mitch didn’t care if that was Candace’s opinion of her.I think she’ll find me a little less “slutty” this weekend, though.The heavy conversations Mitch had with Vanessa before departing for Mexico didn’t simply include safety tips and what to do should Candace suddenly sell Mitch to the highest bidder onboard the ship. It was about how Mitch should act, dress, and compose herself. Agent James agreed that “Michelle” should be the same persona she exuded every time she put on her wig and collar. But Mitch had to stay as astute as possible, not only for her safety but in case she discovered some new damning evidence about Candace Lister.
Once again, it was too dangerous to wire Mitch up, but she had a damn good memory for names and faces.
“Remember why we’re here.” There was only one other guest in front of them at the bar. Candace had yet to stop squeezing Mitch’s wrist.Does she have to make it feel good?This was the real gamble on Mitch’s part. Embracing the ticks that made “Michelle” the life of the party was often at odds with the chip on Mitch’s shoulder. Which was supposed to be the point.Life is much more interesting when I’m allowed to let go.It felt pretty great, too. “You’re here to advertise the club with me. If they know women like you are waiting for them in Club Night, they’re more likely to visit, which makes me more money. We like money, Michelle. Money makes the world go ‘round.”
They reached the bar. Everything was free for the guests, but Candace still took her time deciding between various years of red wine. Mitch was offered a simple cocktail and informed that was all she got that night. While Candace surveyed the room, Mitch surreptitiously watched the bartender to ensure nothing made it into their drinks that wasn’t supposed to be there.
For all of the drama told about this secret party, Mitch couldn’t say she was scandalized by the things she saw consensually take place. Most of the guests were only interested in keeping to their intimate friend groups when they weren’t ordering drinks or conducting backdoor business deals in the spa or saunas.So, another normal night at my kind of club.Mitch had been to many of the high-brow clubs around the Western world, including the “hands off” kind and those that catered to fetishes she understood well. Watching people throw money at a naked woman who climbed up on an empty bar and announced that monetary denominations only held one’s place in line or witnessing two men going at it in the restroom was nothing to Mitch, who was careful of where she sat before ensuring it wasn’t covered in cocaine dust – or worse.
Because of course there were a lot of drugs at this party. Why wouldn’t there be?
“Any smoke has to be in the designated areas!” that was one of the only rules the armed guards barked as they went from room to room finding the source of a large marijuana cloud. “On the deck or in the back! Take your pick, but it ain’t here!Comprende?”
There were plenty of guests who didn’t speak English as their first language. Mitch’s Spanish was good enough to know that one heiress brokered a drug deal for her Miami club with a cartel representative, but her Mandarin was too fuzzy to know why two Chinese men had a heated argument over a third who begged one for mercy while the other attempted to slap handcuffs on both wrists. Mitch knew better than to ask questions. The only reason she saw these strange scenes was because she followed Candace from one side of the yacht to the other, mingling with guests who stared at her cleavage and asked her if her blond hair was real. (It wasn’t. Why the hell would it be? Did these people not know a freakin’ wig when they saw one?)
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Christopher,” Candace asked a man she had been talking to for five minutes longer than Mitch had the attention span to pay attention to. “I’ve been searching for him since we arrived.”
“Afraid you missed him if you weren’t the first wave of guests to get here,” the man said. “Last I heard, he was in the VVIP area entertaining his closest friends.”
“I’m his godmother,” Candace whispered once she tore Mitch away from that man. “He’ll let me in.”
One of the few things Mitch found online was that King’s Crown was owned by Christopher Pell-Martin, the son of two European dynasties that had called Los Angeles their home for the past twenty years. He was the oldest of three children and the de facto heir to his father’s trading empire that dated back to a certain King George who lost control of his colony. Mitch knew she wasn’t likely to see the man himself, but that was before she knew who Christopher’s godmother was.
That in itself sounded like a far more interesting story.
Mitch followed Candace like her shadow as they delved deeper into the yacht, past closets, washrooms, and the breakroom for the staff who blasted through whatever drugs they brought to stay awake and alert enough for this level of bullshit. Mitch overheard a woman in a black server’s dress complain of someone grabbing her crotch, and she bemoaned she had no idea who it was. The other woman she spoke to said,“Charge him next time. Otherwise, you’re getting fuckall support here.”
The longer this night went on, the more Mitch realized that laws did not apply to the King Crown’s annual party out in international waters.
“Excuse me.” Candace badgered the large bouncer standing outside the double doors leading to Christopher’s private party on his yacht. Mitch immediately identified the automatic weapon strapped to the bouncer’s back.I think I had the honor of firing that a few times when I was deployed…Vanessa would be horrified to hear the word “honor” come out of Mitch’s mouth in that context, but she couldn’t deny that some firearms were simplyfunto use.
Still, she would rather not be on the barrel end of that thing.
“I’m Candace Lister. I believe my godson, Christopher, is expecting me tonight. At the very least, he should say hello to his godmother.”
