Page 55 of Protecting Charity

I cupped her face and brought her gorgeous green gaze to mine. “You didn’t need to do anything. It’s us who don’t deserve you.” I pressed my lips to her forehead, and she sighed, leaning into me.

Vito pulled in to the U-shaped drop off and got out to open our door. The one time I’d allow him to do it since it was a formal event.

Before we slid out of the car, I held up her mask. “Can’t forget this.”

She took it from my hand, placed the pitch black lace mask across her eyes, and tied it at the back of her head with a neat knot. Mine was a distressed silver half-faced mask with a skull at the center. I tied the black silk ribbons behind my head and stepped out of the car, holding my hand out for her to take it.

She took mine and then stepped out for the world to see. Anger sat in the pit of my stomach with the thought of others gawking at her. Of them to see what is ours, not theirs. I swallowed my jealousy and smiled to ease her concern.

I buttoned my suit jacket, then walked to the doorman with Charity on my arm and presented one of two invitations. One to get into the main event and the other to get downstairs for the auction.

The doorman wore tactical gear instead of the traditional formal attire, making him look out of place for such an event. He examined my invitation, then placed it in a folder that held everyone else’s that came through the door. He nodded, granting us permission to enter, and we stepped inside to a whole other world Charity had never encountered.

The Moreno family wasn’t crazy about opening their doors to strangers and collaborating with people who weren’t doing business with us. If you opened your home, it made you susceptible for people to betray you. As we walked through the foyer on a black runner to the gathering room, I noticed the sizable crowds surrounding black and gold decorated tables. She gripped my arm tight, her knuckles turning ghostly white against my suit.

Petite women spun and flipped on colorful cloth ropes that hung suspended from the ceiling, performing wild feats of acrobatics while captivating the crowd. I pulled two flutes of champagne from a tray the server was carrying and handed one to Charity. If anything, it would help her relieve some nerves she was melting.

A boisterous woman in a shimmering yellow gown, busty exposed cleavage, with a bright yellow feathered mask laughed loud enough, so heads turned her direction to see what was so amusing. She stood before a woman dressed as a voodoo priestess sitting at a table reading something on the table.

“Where to?” I asked.

There was time to kill before they allowed us to go downstairs, so we might as well loosen up a little and try to look the part.

“I want her to tell me about my future.”

Chapter 22

Charity

Iwandered to the woman holding a deck of cards. Her black lace face tattoo surrounded her pitch-black eyes, giving her the appearance of someone who just didn’t give a fuck what others thought. People who tattoo their faces seemed to hold this mentality. Her sheer black shirt matched the wrap that covered her head and hair. Each finger had a silver ring of various designs, some fingers holding more than one. She filled both wrists with bracelets that jingled with each motion of her hand, creating a cacophony.

“Do you wish me to read your future, child?”

Her accent was some version of Jamaican and deep bayou. One place I couldn’t put my finger on.

“That sounds like fun. Tell me who I will marry?” I laughed.

I wasn’t marrying anyone because that required me to choose, and I had already determined there would be no choosing. I was an all or nothing type of girl.

Taking a seat, I tucked my long dress beneath me and crossed my ankles. Luca stood to the side, speaking to some man in a devil’s mask with ram horns and a bright red suit with a black button-up shirt. It was fitting for someone playing the devil.

She held the deck of cards in her hand, closed her eyes, and hummed. She took a deep breath, then opened her eyes and placed the deck down on the table. She rapped her knuckles against the pile, spread her fingers across them, then picked them up and shuffled the cards. “Cutdadeck in three.”

I eyed her cautiously. This was all for entertainment, but she seemed to take it seriously. My fingers gripped the cards gently, and I dropped three separate piles on the table of unequal sizes.

“Now, placedemback in one pile.” She placed her index finger up, specifying the amount.

I did as she asked. She swiped her hand over the deck and spread them out across the table.

“Pick a card your spirit leads you to.”

I looked at Luca, who wasn’t paying any attention, then puffed out a breath and scanned the fanned deck. I touched one, and she flipped it over, showing a man hanging upside down.

“The hanged man tells of great self-sacrifice made in your past, but you believe you are held in place bydissacrifice and is restricting you todisday. You must change your perspective and see no one has tied you to the past but yourself.”

I laughed at how she seemed to be dead on. There was no way that a card would tell me what had happened or what would happen. Apprehension coursed through my body, and I tapped my finger as she came uncomfortably close to the truth.

“Pick another.”

---