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Drakos clucked his tongue. “I’m afraid that’s not how civilized people make requests, wife.”
The infuriating brute! I ground out each word. “Please, Drakos. Help me get into this dress thatyouselected for the party withyourpeers.”
Solid hands fell on my hips, and I was jerked back. The butcher bent his head and hissed in my ear, “You need a lesson in manners, princess. And I’m going to delight in giving it to you.” The zipper sizzled up my spine. “But as you so elegantly pointed out, we’re required elsewhere.” Drakos slapped my ass before giving me a little shove forward.
I stumbled but managed to right myself. Spinning around with a snarl on my lips, I looked at the half-cocked smile on his. It was a sly look, full of self-confidence, and it shook me. Oh hell, he was too handsome for his own good. But then my training kicked in. I swallowed my anger and brought a smile to my own mouth. “Well, do you approve?”
“You look...good.” His voice was tight.
I did a small spin. “The dress is beautiful. Thank you.”
That wiped the smirk off his face. But what replaced it was quite possibly worse. Desire burned in his dark eyes now. “Let’s go,” he rasped.
My own mouth suddenly dry, I nodded and trailed after him. We proceeded down to the entryway where we were just in time to meet our arriving guests. There was one in particular I was eager to meet—someone who would be essential to tonight’s course of events.
~*~
The evening turnedinto a long line of arrivals and greetings. Drakos stood beside me at first, but we slowly worked our way apart as the duties of host and hostess pulled us into the evening. Even apart, I felt Drakos’s gaze on me. He was hyper aware of my every movement, as I was of his.
Finally catching the time, I disentangled myself from a conversation between the business manager, Dion, and his wife. I moved into the hall to speak to the butler, asking if the final preparations for dinner were ready. As the servant nodded, I moved back into the main room and angled myself around so that it looked completely accidental when I ran into one of our guests.
“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, ma’am!” Jason McKenzie slurred.
I smiled at the unknowing real estate agent. “It’s quite all right, your drink missed me. Can we refill your glass?”
When he nodded, I signaled to a waiter. Extra help had been engaged for the demands of the evening, the staff having passed rigorous background checks to work this dinner. My husband was looking at me but didn’t jump to interfere as the real estate agent stood closer than was necessary. A flicker of annoyance wafted through me. I needed a false altercation to take place. The blame for Drakos’s death had to be placed at someone’s feet, and Jason was the perfect scapegoat. This man was a loose cannon when drunk. From my research, I knew this man’s penchant for good scotch, and my instructions to the waiters had been to keep everyone well supplied. Jason was the only one working on his third glass. But still, no action erupted from my husband at the accidental brush.
“Enjoy your evening,” I minced, ready to leave. No matter, the night was still young. I would find another way for Jason to pick a fight with Drakos.
“I really am sorry,” he said, breath reeking of alcohol.
Waving him off, I assured him it was fine. I made to step away, but Jason reached out to stop me. “You’re the devil’s daughter.”
“Excuse me?” I faced the man, who was probably as tall as me, but these shoes gave me an advantage. Looking down my nose at him, I coolly responded, “I don’t know that moniker.”
“Sure, you do.” Jason swayed on his feet. “You’re daddy’s good little girl, aren’t you? You’re here, doing what he says.”
“I’m proud of my father, yes,” I snapped, with no desire to finish this conversation. Thankfully, we were far enough away from the rest of the guests that no one overheard. However, everyone could see us. “Dinner is ready to be announced, and I need everyone to gather outside.”
“That’s a funny thing to be proud of when you’re just another one of your father’s whores. You’re just a sex worker he personally raised to do his dirty work. But I have to say he did a damn fine job with you,” Jason lisped, his voice now rising.
His words rocked me. Not only was it incredibly insulting, but it had terrible implications. “My father doesn’t have sex workers,” I hissed, wrenching my wrist free.
The action caused my ring to knock into his clammy palm, and I became aware of the jewelry I wore. The realization struck me that Jason was right.I married the butcher to seduce and kill him. I was a whore.
“Oh, ho! You didn’t know?” the bastard prattled on. “Yes, daddy dearest runs some of the best brothels in North America, and he uses kidnapped victims or slaves from foreign countries to fill the beds—or dungeons, for that matter.” Jason wiggled his brows.
“Liar!” I stepped toward him, getting right in his sallow face. “How dare you spread such egregious tales!”
But as I spoke, I remembered my training and the time spent at one of my father’s strip clubs. It hadn’t been a brothel; some of the dancers simply liked to turn tricks in their apartments. My father had asked them to teach me. I froze.What if—?
“I’m many things, girl, but a liar is not one of them.” Jason grabbed my dress.
My attack instincts flared to the surface. Before I could act, our guest was lifted off his feet and tossed aside like a sack of produce.
“That’s my wife,” Drakos snarled, menacing forward. “Never touch what doesn’t belong to you, and you just might live to see gray hairs on your head.”
I hurried to step between the two men. Mainly, because I didn’t want my husband to murder my fall guy. I placed my hands on Drakos’s broad chest and murmured, “It was nothing. Just a misunderstanding.”
