Page 98 of The Price of Forever

Her gaze found mine as Eddie continued speaking into her ear. She nodded. I wanted to march over there and ask what was going on, but I restrained myself. I trusted her to tell me. She nodded again, saying something I couldn’t lip-read in the dim lighting, then Eddie flashed her a thumbs up and wandered off. Jordan ambled my way.

“Figures,” she said, propping a hand against the wall beside me. “The one night we say it’s a good thing I got my performance out of the way, Eddie asks me to do a surprise second show.”

I smirked. “I can’t say I’ll mind. Are you going to be able to?”

She nodded, crossing her arms as she assessed the club crowd. “I’ll be fine. He’s switching up the programming since he got a special request or something.” She turned toward me, shrugging. “My guess is someone out there wants more than just the regular pole routine from the other girls.”

My mind went to the group of men I’d been keeping my eye on, but I pushed the thought away. A second show wouldn’t change anything. Jordan knew how to handle herself, and I was only twenty feet away. Everything was fine.

But I couldn’t fight the nagging worry that grew as Jordan sauntered away to the Gems lounge to get ready for the next show, which she claimed involved a new outfit and a different persona. I kept closer watch on the table of five. All the shots had been consumed, and Joss returned with another round. These guys didn’t waste any time. Before the new round was tipped back, one of the men—the blond—excused himself and stood up, adjusting his watch and polo shirt before walking my way.

We made the briefest of eye contact as he passed me, en route to the bathroom. His blond hair was gelled in a swept back style. He was the living embodiment of what I considered a rich Hamptonite, minus an expensive sweater draped over his shoulders. Something unsettling lurked behind his gaze, something oddly familiar.

I worked through this dilemma until he returned. Maybe a fresh look would jog my memory. There were an incredible number of celebrities in New York City; I walked past a few A-listers on random outings around the city, and Jordan herself had pointed out a slew of reality stars and D-listers inside these club walls. It was more than likely that this guy was on TV or I’d spotted him somehow in the newspapers once upon a time. Who knew?

But when the man in question breezed past me again, his lips tugged down in a natural scowl that I could only assume was his resting bitch face, I had no further ideas about who the fuck he was.

I needed to know. My intuition was pinging like crazy, and I needed a damn nudge.

I headed for the bar, where Joss waited on some other men. She looked surprised when she saw me sidle up.

“Root bear! You need the usual?”

“I’m good tonight, Jade, thanks.” I had to laugh at the nickname. Maybe one day, when I got magically black out drunk sometime, I’d give Jordan and Jade the show they wanted. But that day was a long way off. I leaned closer, inviting her to lean in too. “I need you to give me some info on that table of five over there.”

Her gaze flicked over my shoulder toward the group.

“You brought them two rounds of shots already,” I added, hoping this would clarify.

“Yeah. What do you need to know?”

“Who’s getting the tab?”

She squinted over my shoulder, thinking, then she said, “The blond one. With the blue polo shirt.”

Bingo. I knew that Gemstones required a credit card behind the bar to open a tab. “I need you to give me the name off his credit card.”

She nodded, quickly accessing the POS system at the bar. She squinted at the screen, swiping her finger across it a few times before she leaned across and told me, “It says E. M. Rossberg on it. There’s a huge Boeing on it or something. That’s all I can really see before we process the transaction. That’s where I’ll get the full name.”

“Thanks, Jade.” I offered a small smile. This was something to go on, at least. I returned to my post along the back wall, a bit closer to the table of five. Bright pop music filled the club, an expectant air building as the lighting shifted, signaling that a show would start soon. Men shuffled around, claiming their tables, lifting their hand for a server. And while the rest of the club waited, I started my search.

Rossberg. I wracked my brain for any hits as the google search loaded. The name sounded distantly familiar.

Results flooded the screen. I thumbed through the top contenders, skimming for anything that might catch my eye.

And that’s when the pieces began to click together. News articles mentioning Cora Margulis-Rossberg. Paparazzi photos of the man and Cora, leaving a restaurant in Midtown or entering the towering Margulis building I’d seen in SoHo. I clicked on an article, almost reading too fast to comprehend what I was seeing.

Eli Rossberg.

Cora’s ex-husband.

Something heavy thudded to the bottom of my stomach and I looked up, making sure Eli was still where I’d last seen him. Having been primarily protecting Trace, Mercedes, and Willow since starting with the Fairchilds, we’d been focused on different threats during our time in Louisville. And during the weeks I’d been in NYC prior to being assigned to Jordan, I’d only gotten the bare minimum regarding Eli. He’d made Cora’s life a living hell, he was a rich and powerful man who hated the Fairchilds, and he was safely in the past.

Until now, when he’d unwittingly elbowed his way into my present.

I read more in the article I’d selected. Eli was the heir to the Rossberg Aerospace company, which was currently testing unmanned rockets to Mars and other space technology that made it sound like the top scientists were eager to escape the planet in favor of another one. I switched to a different article, something less technological and more rag mag. The title read “The Margulis Explosion.” It was dated a few months ago, reading like an editorial deep dive into the past and present reality of the Margulis family, including Cora’s breakdown and separation from her family. It was far too complex for the thumping pop music and swarms of horny men around me, though. I needed bite-size information before I could execute a proper investigation on my own. I texted Axel.

SEVEN: What info do you have on Cora’s ex-husband?

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