Page 14 of Cursed

Even Marguerite was staring now. “That is messed up,” she breathed.

“And how do you know all this, again?” Edeena asked, looking around their own room. There was no armoire, but beside the bar was a low storage bench. She had a sneaking suspicion their own room could become a mini party palace if visitors wanted it to be.

“I told you, I got the full tour when the Cypress first opened. I make it my business to know all the clubs, on the mainland and the outlying islands. This is, arguably, one of the more unique operations in the area.”

“Have you ever been here when someone else was, you know, in one of those rooms? And they know they’re being watched?” Marguerite sounded more amused than aghast, but Edeena’s own reaction was more complicated. She felt too hot and too cold at once, imagining what it would be like to be in one of those rooms, so carefree and careless that you didn’t worry about what you did with whom—or who saw you.

Who lived like that? She wondered. What could that possibly be like?

“When I was being given the tour, it was broad daylight, and the cleaning crews were in the room. The resort was still in its first weeks, and the club wasn’t fully up to speed yet,” Vince said. Was it her imagination or was his voice softer now, silkier. Edeena shivered despite herself. “I saw enough to know that if I were here on any other night, there wouldn’t be a detail I would miss, looking into those other rooms from here. It really is a voyeur’s paradise.”

Edeena could almost feel the physical weight of his gaze as he turned from the windows to stare at her. She refused to look at him, but the hot wave of sensation rolled over her again, flushing her skin. She didn’t know where to look or what to do, trapped by Vince’s gaze like that, even though this all was perfectly safe, perfectly appropriate—her sister was in the room, for God’s sake. It wasn’t like Vince was going to make a move on her. Not that he would anyway.

She really needed to stop thinking altogether.

Vince sauntered over to the bar, pulled a bottle of champagne out of its bucket. Then he turned his gaze back on them. “Is there anything in particular you want to see?” he asked.

Satisfied that he’d shocked Edeena into leaving the room at the earliest possible moment, Vince shifted his glance to Marguerite. She was scowling at the empty rooms, her interest waning as they lay there empty.

Then one of the doors opened.

“Oh, my God,” Marguerite breathed, slapping a hand to her mouth as a tall, willowy and very familiar figure appeared, entering the room with a broad smile.

“Is she doing a tour?” Edeena asked, her voice vacillating between fascination and dismay

Somehow, Vince didn’t think so. Janet Mulready hadn’t been subtle when she’d left him a voicemail earlier that day. She’d liked what she’d seen out in the pool area, and she wanted to know how long Edeena Saleri would be occupying his time. She’d clearly assumed that Edeena wouldn’t be here for long, in spite of the fact that the countess had apparently fallen under his spell. When she left, Janet would be here, and she’d be waiting for him.

Now he grimaced as the woman’s lithe form turned and a man strolled in. Two men, actually. Oh, boy. He recognized the slightly older man as the hotelier they’d seen at the bachelorette party earlier, Wyndham Masters. But the younger man didn’t ring a bell.

They didn’t have long to focus on them, though, as a bevy of additional women paraded into the room, bearing champagne flutes and martini glasses, some even toting a bottle. They burst into loud, breezy laughter as Marguerite took a step closer to the window.

“I cannot believe they know we’re watching this.”

“It’s better than that. They know specifically we’re watching. Or at least our good friend Janet knows.”

Vince’s gaze shifted abruptly to Edeena, who was also staring at the window as she spoke. “That’s the third time she’s glanced this way. She set this up, or at least is pretty sure she set it up.” Her gaze sharpened as the women peeled off in multiple directions—some into the arms of the younger man, some to the bar. Wyndham stood by Janet, and as they watched he lifted a slow, lazy finger to trace a lock of Mulready’s hair across her forehead, tucking it behind an ear. The move was nowhere near as salacious as what was going on up against the bar, but Marguerite seemed mesmerized as she stared.

“She’s putting on a show,” Edeena continued, her voice incredulous. “A show for us—for you,” she turned to Vince, and though he half expected dismay or even outrage in her expression, what he saw wasn’t that at all. There was irritation, yes, but also pure feminine calculation.

Beside Edeena, Marguerite flinched. Vince’s gaze went back to the window. One of the other women had now removed most of her dress, leaving behind a very artfully draped undergarment that he supposed functioned as both bra and panties.

Edeena tilted her head. “We don’t have to keep watching this, you know—”

“We can go,” the youngest Saleri said abruptly. She scanned the room, her eyes alighting on the wet bar, where the open bottle of champagne remained, loosely stoppered. “Could you grab that, Vince?”

Then she stalked over to the door, pulled it open, and exited the room.

The door slammed behind her, and Vince checked his phone. “Marks is waiting for her at the entrance to the VIP suite section,” he said, tapping out a quick message. “I’ll tell him to take her wherever she wants to go.”

“Thanks,” Edeena said absently. No longer apparently titillated by what she saw through the window, Edeena nevertheless frowned as she strode forward, peering at Wyndham even as he disentangled himself from an overenthusiastic blonde. “Who is that man, again? Wyndham something?”

“Masters. Hotelier. Billionaire. Engaged, as it happens,” Vince said, also eyeing the window. Wyndham rebuffed another stunning brunette, turning instead to say something to the younger man. “I don’t know who the younger guy is.”

“Engaged,” Edeena said, and once again, he got the sense that she wasn’t dismayed. Merely intrigued. Challenged, even.

Vince’s own attention sharpened on Wyndham. He was an attractive enough man, and richer than God. He wasn’t a prince, of course—

What the hell am I even thinking?

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