Page 11 of Cursed

“No,” Edeena and Caro both chimed at once, Caroline bursting into a wide grin.

“You don’t clean your own room, Marguerite. Do not for a second imagine you’d be willing to clean someone else’s.”

“Then waitress. I could be a waitress. Lord knows I’ve served enough dinner parties for Father when I was younger—we all did.”

“You could easily be a waitress,” Edeena said gently. “But honey, are you sure your internship will allow that kind of service work?”

“Not at all, but I’ll cover all that with HR,” Marguerite said loftily, waving her hand. “But no matter what, it’s international experience, and if I want to get work in the hospitality industry, I need that. Plus I’ll get to meet so many people. It’s a total win-win.”

“She does have a point,” Caroline said. “The work I did for the tourist service was the absolute best way I found to meet new people and work on my languages.”

“Done deal,” Marguerite said. “I should be a bartender to start, I’m almost certain.”

Edeena shook her head, but she couldn’t come up with a good reason to say no to her baby sister. Which was Marguerite’s super power.

There was a soft knock at the open door, then Prudence stepped in. “The Markses are here to drive you—oh, my,” she said abruptly, taking in the three women. Surprisingly, she began blinking rapidly, and Edeena’s heart twisted a little in her chest. She suspected the older woman was perhaps a bit lonelier than she let on. She lived out here at Heron’s Point as caretaker, but how long had it been since she’d had any family visit?

“Prudence?” Caro said instantly, going to the older woman. “Are you okay?”

“It’s. . . it’s just . . . well, goodness me, I’m becoming a watering pot,” Prudence said, lifting to her eyes a kerchief she’d managed to ferret out of some hidden pocket. “You’re all so lovely. Your mother would have been so . . . so very proud to see you like this.”

“She’d be grateful you were here to watch over us, you mean,” Caro said cheerfully, hugging Prudence as Edeena shared a look with Marguerite. In truth, if their mother knew they would be heading for a nightclub in the heart of the “consenting adults” section of the Cypress Resort, she would probably faint. But what Prudence didn’t know definitely would not hurt her. Not hurt them, either.

The ride to the Cypress was, of course, brief, but Edeena watched with interest as they joined a long queue line of cars. “Where are they all coming from?” she asked.

“The city, mostly,” Rob said from the driver’s seat. His wife sat beside him, but Edeena hadn’t gotten a good look at her dress yet. She tugged her own crimson glove a little further toward her knees.

Cindy chimed in. “A lot come from the other villa estates as well. The island residents don’t have much use for the Cypress, but they’re heavily outnumbered by the island’s guest villa vacationers. And the club draws guests from Charleston and the other islands as well. There’s no hotel at the Cypress, but they have special three-day villa packages through the week, that oh-so-conveniently fall on these party days. It’s proven to be a good strategy for them.”

Cindy’s phone crackled, and she pulled it from her purse, checking the display. “Pri—Vince is inside already, and he’s secured a table for us in the Sea Witch. We can stay as long as you’d like, he said.”

“How long does the party go?” Marguerite asked instantly, and Edeena did her best to hide her wince. She was nearly twenty-seven, but she suddenly felt forty, wanting nothing more than to wander the quiet halls of Heron’s Point instead of drawing ever nearer to the booming music and glittering light show shooting up into the sky above the Cypress Resort.

Cindy glanced into the rearview mirror and met Edeena’s gaze. “It’ll be hopping until after midnight, but there’s an unofficial curfew on the island at two. If you’re out, you’ll get hassled by local law enforcement, who’ll be waiting at the end of the lane.”

The woman was lying, Edeena realized, but Marguerite seemed to accept her words. Garronia was no stranger to curfews of late, and they’d all led an almost pathologically protected existence under their father’s watch. They’d get home before two, she thought. How much of a nightmare could one little party be?

This place was an absolute fucking nightmare.

Vince scowled around the room, making eye contact with two of his additional guards he’d brought in for the night, having no problem getting them entrance passes from the giddy Janet Mulready. If he didn’t know the woman, he’d have pegged her for doped on drugs, but he suspected her good mood had everything to do with the resort’s most popular party to date. The Cypress adults-only grounds had been closed from four p.m. to nine, and had opened up moments before he’d arrived. The place was now drenched in a million spotlights of every color of the rainbow, some pointed straight up, drawing the attention to the resort from all over the island. Hell, you could probably see it from the moon.

He’d been inside the Sea Witch, the main nightclub of this section of the resort, only once—again, when the Cypress had first opened. It had looked like standard fare, but it hadn’t been in the midst of a party, either. Now the place looked exactly like the image it was trying to portray—a sex club, minus the actual sex. There were men and women dancing on multiple tiers of the club, most of them staff of the resort, but a good many tourists starting to get into the act as well. The staff members were easier to spot given their attire, or lack thereof. Alcohol flowed freely, and there were several fountains set up that he suspected burbled forth with straight vodka, given the number of frat boys surrounding them. The club’s security was very much in evidence, but they didn’t seem to put a damper on the crowd.

Nothing would put a damper on this crowd. What in the hell had he been thinking, letting Edeena and her sisters get caught up in this their very first day on the island?

His phone vibrated in his hand—the only way he’d know if the damn thing would ring given how loud the club was. He glanced at it, reading Cindy’s text. They were at the front door, waiting for him.

Good. Signaling his man to hold the table, Vince stalked through the room. He was dressed more or less appropriately for the club, but he hadn’t knocked himself out. No one would be looking at him.

He shouldered his way to the front of the club, his gaze scanning the room. The crowd was young and affluent, from all appearances. They had to be affluent to afford the $100 cover charge—a charge that, had been notably waived for the Saleri sisters and their guests. Royalty had its privileges, it appeared.

Vince’s eyes sharpened as he neared the opening to the large foyer of the club. It didn’t take but a moment to spot the Marks team and their charges, and he wasn’t the only one looking. The three Saleri sisters cut an impressive swath through the crowd in their low-cut dresses and high-heeled shoes, in contrasting shades of black, pink and deepest red.

They were all runway-worthy, but his eyes were only for Edeena. He wanted to tell himself it was because she was his particular charge, but he’d never been especially good at lying, not even to himself.

She looked like something out of a magazine.

In deference to the evening, her hair was down, curled around her shoulders. Her exotic eyes and lips were touched with the barest hint of makeup—far less than Marguerite, but a bit more than Caroline, he decided, sweeping the other girls with a clinical glance. The dress that hugged her athletic frame was made of some sort of soft knit, looking like nothing so much as something he wanted to pull off her body at the first moment.

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