Page 129 of Lavish
That was both helpful and alarming.
“You basically are going allDog the Bounty Hunteron her, hmm? What will you give me in exchange?”
“I’ll owe you a favor,” I said.
“A King, offering favors? What’s the world coming to?” He studied me again, his amusement dimming into something more dangerous. “You wouldn’t be the first King to bite off more than they could chew.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dante just grinned.
“Can you do it or not?”
“Alright,” he said, stepping back, that slick smile stretching across his face. “I’ll think about it.”
My brow arched. “That’s not a yes.”
“It’s not a no either.” He leaned in just enough that only I could hear. “We’ll talk again. Soon.”
I watched Dante disappear into the crowd when a deafening roar erupted as Jasper’s winning shot swished through the net. His horse kicked up turf, nostrils flaring, and the referee’s whistle cut through the air like a blade.
Jasper slid off his horse with ease, handing the reins off to a waiting staff.
His helmet came off, and his smile flickered wide and easy as a crowd started to gather. Men slapped him on the back. Women leaned in a little too close. He said something that made them laugh.
A tall, willowy woman appeared at his side, her caramel-blond hair twisted in a silk scarf that matched her pale blue dress. She kissed his cheek, possessive but poised.
I wove through a manicured garden toward the side of the house. Jasper’s estate was a well-oiled machine—event staff stationed at every entry, servers ferrying champagne and charcuterie, private security lingering at the perimeter.
Two bored security guards, more interested in chatting than work, stood by the side doors. I kept walking as if returning inside from the terrace like I had a right to be here.
“Ma’am?”
I didn’t blink. “Sorry, just needed a break. My shoes arekillingme.” I gestured to my heels.
“Stick to this area only.”
“Appreciate it.” I slid through before they could say anything else.
The hall was cooler, quieter. Still opulent, of course. Cream paneling, gilt trim, a massive painting of someone’s ancestor glaring disapprovingly from the wall. I kept my pace calm. The adrenaline was there, buzzing under my skin, but I didn’t let it show.
I moved down the hall, looking for any opportunity.
An office. Bedroom. Closet.Something.
When staff rushed by, I dropped my head and turned away, pretending to find the paintings interesting before continuing my search.
Then I saw it: a discreet sign beside a narrow hallway.Private Suite—Riders Only.
The farther I got from the main corridor, the quieter it got.
The hallway forked—one direction led to a lounge still echoing with laughter, the other to a closed door marked with Jasper’s monogram. I went with the second.
Locked.
Of course.
I pressed my ear against it. Nothing. No voices.
