Page 13 of Gilded Caresses

I hit enter and send the contract out into the ether.

For good or for bad, I take comfort however small in knowing right this minute I am helping someone. If there’s one thing I know about the Savages and the Genesis men it is that while powerful and lethal, they are only out to take down the assholes of the world. But to do so, they had to become what they hunted.

Irony at its finest.

My screen flashes and I don’t need to see her smiling face to know who it is.

“Now we wait.” Sorry, Belle, I’m going to be late.

Five

Sapphire

Four hours later I wave Raphe off and step into Chicago’s new playground and second sacred location.

The Gilded Key Society.

The one place where your sexual fantasies can come true.

A few lavish locations for the club dot the continent. If what Belle tells me is true—and she should know—there are plans in the works for more locations in larger cities like New York City and Los Angeles. Paris is on the table, too, with other exotic locations in mind.

I turn on my heel. “Oh, no. I’m sorry.” A short woman with silver hair and wise eyes stumbles a little, her purse falling to the ground. I catch her elbow and we somehow manage not to topple over.

“I am so sorry. I should have looked before I just started walking. Are you okay?”

I kneel and start gathering the fallen pieces of paper that escaped the lady’s purse when I pause.

“The death card,” I say. I turn my gaze to hers when she comes to her knees beside me.

“Seems your guardian angels are working late tonight.”

A set of warm hands gathers mine for a quick squeeze before releasing me.

“You’re a tarot reader?” I shouldn’t sound surprised, but getting this card on a day like this one knocks the wind out of me.

My heart isn’t in my chest for long after she nods and says, “And I guess I just did a reading for you, hon.” She plucks the death card from my hand and raises it with a side glance at The Society. “And something tells me you’re about to find out what this card means for you and it doesn't include a coffin, sweetheart.”

She collects her belongings and with another smile she disappears around the corner.

I gather the ends of my evening gown and thank the doorman as he swings the large polished door wide for me. I take one last look behind me, but the older woman is gone.

The converted hotel from days gone by reminds me of the Waldorf Astoria with its limestone and brick in various shades of gray, weathered by time and the changing seasons. I let those thoughts trickle through my mind instead of what just happened.

A canopied entryway leads to a luxurious interior. Cool, floral-scented air wraps around my heated skin and I sigh with welcomed relief. Not only from the heat outside but from theevents of my day. Remnants of adrenaline cause my fingers to tremble and my knees are not doing all that well. They wobble as though I took a power walk through Hell and survived.

The entrance is barren of people so I take a moment, close my eyes and find my inner calm. Fallout from my father’s actions isn’t new. And today is just a taste of what I am facing if I continue with Genesis.

I roll one shoulder and then the other. Finishing with Riot took longer than expected. Seconds after hitting send on the contract runners started phoning in with sightings—most false but a couple held promise. Riot insisted on sitting through every single minute until the runners grew quiet. A bottle of vodka and some smooth-talking from Harlon helped convince the tortured man to let the runners do their jobs while Riot got some sleep.

Behind me the doors snick closed, locking out the sounds of evening traffic. Silence wraps around me. Here I allow the tension of the day to unwind from my shoulders. One muscle at a time I can feel the stress of Genesis leech from my body and into the ethers beneath my feet.

I open my eyes at the sound of feminine footfalls on marble.

“Welcome to The Gilded Key Society, Ms. Constantine. It’s good to see you are enjoying your new membership.”

What she means is, wow, you’re back again?

The elegantly dressed hostess greets me with a smile and hands me a fountain pen. Rich black ink glides over thick, eggshell-colored paper as I sign my name in the club’s ledger with gold leaf and finished edges.

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