Page 39 of Royal Flush

Even if there were those who said that about the Royal brothers.

I entered the hotel, marveling at the closeness to the White House.

What I’d learned from Gage was that everyone who was anyone had cajoled their way into an invitation. It would seem charity was huge in this town, providing a glowing view of corrupt men and women who pretended they were royalty. I had my checkbook ready and was eager to get the night over with. If Jasmine was here, I wasn’t entirely certain what I wanted to say to her.

A part of me longed to take her as my prisoner, teaching her more than a single lesson in obedience. The other, somewhat rational man inside me knew creating an international incident certainly wouldn’t bode well for the FTC attempting to scour through our books. Their interference was tedious anyway. While they had a love-hate relationship with the FBI, they’d been known to use the weight of the law enforcement agency to get what they wanted. In our case, it was yet to be determined if they hoped to bring criminal charges.

I continued to question in my mind whether someone had put them up to hassling us. Perhaps Secretary Bishop. Still, that seemed farfetched after all this time. Why bother? Unless Valerio wasn’t being completely truthful, or our father had been smart enough to have his personal attorney release threats and some information like a time capsule.

There was no evidence of that either, or reporters would be foaming at the mouth. We certainly didn’t appreciate being in the middle of some scheme, including possibly one our father had started.

As I headed through the marble lobby toward the bank of private elevators, I could tell all the trust fund kiddos were here as well, maybe headed to the well-known dance club. By the time I made it to the bank of elevators, I could hear the booming noise coming from the club. A posh hotel with one of the sexiest and hottest clubs in the city.

Things had changed since I was in my twenties.

I’d been given a special card to use on the steel box, which allowed me to head to the top floor where the festivities were taking place. The moment I was in the expansive carpeted hallway, I sensed the party was in full swing.

And it was only ten at night.

While I hungered to find my little koala, the real business of the night came first. I headed into the main section where the bars and dance floor were located as well as the small podium set up for whatever announcements would be made. I was well known in the city, my picture appearing in several national magazines yet as I walked through the crowd, I gathered a sense of disdain.

As if I didn’t belong here.

The arrogant looks I was receiving amused the hell out of me. I certainly didn’t need any politician’s approval.

I sauntered up to the bar, only the second in line. At least the wait wouldn’t be long. A drink was necessary on a night like this.

“Yes, sir?”

“Macallan scotch, neat.”

The young man opened his eyes as if fearful telling me it was a liquor they didn’t have would incense me. I knew the game well and pulled out my wallet, yanking out a fifty. As soon as I handed it to him, his eyes lit up. “Coming right up, sir. We have a private stash.”

“I’m sure you do.” I scanned the room as he poured, the young man wasting no time in doing so.

“Come back any time.”

“I will. Thank you.” I took my glass without the cocktail napkin and headed into the thickest part of the crowd. I’d been provided with as much information on Jameson Bishop as Gage had been able to dig up. It was interesting to me that for the most part, the powerful man kept his nose clean, at least to those outside his main core of friends.

And he had at least a dozen of some of the most influential buddies in the city.

How interesting it included someone from the FTC. Was I developing a conspiracy theory? Maybe. In the glory years, our father’s media company had provided less than glowing programs highlighting corrupt, powerful people. I’d always found that funny given how ruthless Pops was. He’d crossed that line more than once.

It would seem Mr. Bishop was fairly popular, adored by his wife and two children, and had enjoyed all the perks provided to a man of such a distinguished career.

My father had made notes on how Jameson was a corrupt beast who enjoyed using and destroying people. Some I recognized from the documentaries, but others were no one I knew. I had a feeling that was the tip of the iceberg regarding what Jameson had done or was capable of.

As I moved through the party, I was forced to greet a few people who’d insisted I have a word or two with them.

“We need your services, Valerio.” I recognized the guy, although I wasn’t certain where from.

“It’s Braxton and I’ll be happy to give you my card.” My older brother and I looked nothing alike yet people often mistook us for each other.

He was drunk, not embarrassed, almost dropping the card twice before managing to slide it into his pocket. I certainly had no intention of giving him my private cellphone number. Almost no one had that.

The man was still blubbering about something as I moved on, nodding toward a couple of beautiful women in the crowd. While both were lovely and obviously interested, I wasn’t here to gather additional arm candy.

I continued meandering through the massive room, exiting and heading to one of the smaller ones. It was only a few seconds before I caught a glimpse of Mr. Bishop holding court with several people, most of whom I didn’t recognize. As I moved closer, he didn’t seem to notice my approach, holding a glass of amber liquid as he spouted off about the need for additional animal rescues.

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