Page 50 of Underground Prince

The pile of chips in the middle of the table was pretty astronomical each hand, which begged the question of just how much the buy-in was. With this clientele, it was doubtful it would be any less than thousands. Hundreds of thousands, maybe. Millions. Bajillions. Who knew? These people were turning possibilities of houses, cars, stability, into plastic.

An hour later, it was clear Delia wasn’t going to give me any more errands. I was here to watch and learn, and my single roundabout through this room was the most action I’d be getting. So rather than stand here any longer, it was time to explore. Quietly, as demanded. Silently, as expected. Ninja-like.

Hey, I was all in black.

Peeling away from the wall, I snuck into the other room where more girls like me were serving or standing off to the side until beckoned. I glanced at every male face, searching for Theo before my mind caught up with what I was doing and chastised me. A few girls were scantily clad, but in expensive fabric pieces, so either they were guests of the players or call girls. In this suite, who cared? I was like Alice in Ultra Elite Wonderland.

Where’s Theo?

I made it back to the kitchenette, filling a champagne flute with water and knocking it back—I was thirstier than I thought. I must’ve been here now for about two hours without having a drop to drink. I stood at the sink, filling a second glass, but I was in the way. Girls were dodging me or gently prodding me to the side so they could squeeze in.

Sneaking one quick sip of champagne—oh man, this was something expensive—I hopped out of the kitchenette and resumed becoming one with the wall.

The front door opened as I was headed back to my checkpoint, drawing the attention of one of the bouncers, and Theo walked in, his hands busy re-buttoning the cuffs of his shirt while his blazer dangled over one arm. Ensuring I wouldn’t run into someone by using precious traffic space, I went over to him.

“Hey,” I said.

He looked up from fixing his shirt. “What do you think?”

It was becoming easier to speak—and therefore understand—the language that was Theo Saxon. “It’s, well, amazing. Freakishly discreet, but I could get used to keeping my mouth shut, I suppose. Does this mean I—oh my God, your hands.”

I caught his wrists as he was lowering them, turning them in mine, hovering over the bloody, bruised knuckles. “These weren’t here before.”

I looked up before I could tell myself not to, still rubbing his wrists. There was a ping of connection as we made contact, a tangible thrum that only seemed to exist whenever I met his gaze.

“It’s unimportant.” With a gentle tug, he withdrew from my grasp.

“Looks pretty critical to me,” I said. “Come to the kitchen. We’ll find a first aid kit.”

“It’s not needed.” He shrugged his blazer on, and after, reached into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief. I caught the shine of metal near his belt before his blazer closed back over.

“Does that not get uncomfortable, shoved in your pants like that?” I asked.

He paused in dabbing at his knuckles.

“Like sitting or lying down…” I went on, despite his stare. “Doing jumping jacks…”

“I’m used to it,” he answered before resuming his paltry excuse for medical treatment.

“Theo, really,” I said, plucking the handkerchief from his hands. Someone gasped behind me but it went half-noticed. I was using my library voice and couldn’t be offending anyone that much. “This is pathetic. Let me help you treat these properly. At least pour some vodka over them or something.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, you prefer rum, then? Or is it only the pure that may touch upon your blood? Some fancy Cristal I saw over there?” I pulled at his arm. “Whatever your tastes, milord, so long as we dress your war wounds properly and…uh…oh.”

I’d turned to the room, having had my back to everyone but Theo for our entire exchange. Everyone gaped at us, including the players. The waitresses were frozen, their trays held in midair, the special guests/call girls gawking, their groomed refinement no longer their top priority. And there was Austin Dean standing in the doorway to the second room, finally locating me with his spritely blue eyes. And so, pinned down by stares and a strange sort of shock whirling around the room, I did what I would usually do when becoming the inadvertent center of attention. Ignored it and waved at Austin Dean.

“Come with me.” Theo’s hand dug into my back, leading me down the hallway with a firmness that I kept forgetting.

He guided me into a bathroom and came in behind me, shutting the door with a click.

“Of course the bathroom would be more luxurious than the rest of the place,” I said once he flicked on the lights. “Jeez.”

White marble cut through with silver covered all available surface space, with brass fixtures and a giant claw-footed bathtub—

“Just what do you think you were doing out there?”

“I—oof.” He was so close to me I almost clocked him with my shoulder. “Well, I was trying to get you into a place like this. To help with your cuts.”

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