Page 96 of Merciless Heir

We stand out, even in masks.

No one says my name, they don’t need to, even if they know I’m there, which given my height some do. It’s hard to tell who is who with the masks covering most of the faces except mouths, but I recognize one or two. The rest, I have no idea.

They know Sadie, though, and she’s striking in red.

Her mask accentuates her eyes, and the cat-like shape to it isn’t lost on me.

I’m bait, she said to me on the drive from the private airfield to here. Bait to let those who know that I want my tiara and I’m willing to buy it. It’ll push up the price, but…

Well, the rest of what Sadie said is sublime, ballsy, and bordering on diabolical.

If she finds it, she’s going to steal it.

After the sale.

“When does it all start?”

“It has,” she says as we move about the room. She points to a waiter. This one is new and carries small shots, and he has his entire face covered in mime paint. “The host’s right-hand man.”

He comes to us and she takes a drink and a napkin. His gaze skitters over me and then back to Sadie. We’re in a big room, classic country club vibe and look with the tables and chairs and sofas. A long, sleek bar in the back and subtle and boring music piped in at just the right background level. But when she meets his gaze, she manages to make the entire room shrink down to us and him and he just nods and leaves.

She’s good at controlling situations without a word. And I’m more than impressed. I want to mark her as mine.

She doesn’t look at me. She’s studying the napkin, which looks like it’s a small piece of cloth, not paper, and frowns. Words are printed on it and she crushes it in her hand and says, “Come with me and don’t say anything.”

I swallow a sigh and make a small gesture and we begin the weirdest tour of a room I’ve been on. I’ve made the rounds at parties where I don’t want to talk to others and don’t, all while seeming like I’m not actually ignoring people, but this takes it to a whole new level.

This is slow and leisurely and her fingers brush mine as we walk. Deliberate touches to slow me down, to move me on, and each and every one of them sends a different cascade of heated awareness through my blood.

People talk to each other and some leave quietly. But all through it, I hear one thing over and over: Lower East Side.

It could be anything, and—

“We’re going.”

I look at Sadie as we head to the door. “Now?”

“It’s not here, but I think I know where it is. There’s another sale.”

It all clicks. “Let me guess. Lower East Side.”

It’s raining and cold at three a.m. when we get back to Manhattan. Sadie was on the phone and texting for most of the trip back so I got to observe her and she’s easy on the eye. Impressive, too.

The piece of material, the bidding form, is in my pocket and I squeeze it like some sort of talisman as we sit in my car outside a run down looking bar on the Lower East Side.

This isn’t hipster or the next best thing. It’s the kind of place that a certain type go to because the drinks are cheap and the pour heavy and the place is dark and anonymous. I don’t need to go inside to know that. I’ve been to places like this before, because sometimes a man needs to just have a drink. Or conduct business no one else needs to know about.

So the fact so many sleek cars have pulled up and well-heeled types have gone inside is telling.

I don’t know these people.

No one here is wearing masks.

Even the dressed down ones have money. I can always pick out money. It’s like an aura.

“I’m not staying behind, Sadie,” I say for the ninth time.

She breathes out. “This isn’t like Ohio. This is the real deal. The other real deal. These are people you don’t mess with.”

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