Page 8 of Tear Me Down
As we pull up to the sullied entryway, three men in pressed valet uniforms stand at the podium waiting, just like we knew they would be. Ezra and Will have been surveying the property since early this morning for any detail we can observe from the outside, and Carter has already run checks on everyone employed by the catering and valet companies Hugo hired for tonight. All of them check out, but just to be safe, Alex will scan the car for tracking or audio devices before we leave tonight.
My assumption is that Hugo will play it safe, especially if the intel from the moles is accurate. I contemplated having Zeke attack the party just to drive the illusion home that I'm not a threat to him, but I can’t risk my little wolf. So, we’ll need to be more subtle and let the night pass us by without too much commotion. Hopefully.
I step out of the Charger, ignoring the young and nervous looking valet driver, and make my way to the passenger side. As soon as I open the door, the night fades away. Her elegance is the only true beauty here, and every voice in my head that screams depravity hushes to a whisper. She smiles up at me and blushes as she fondles with her gown to step out of the car in a way that she assumes is appropriate, trying to avoid any awkward stares from the other attendees pulling up behind us. If anyone even looks in her direction in an off tone, I'll snap their necks before they can make eye contact. Her inexperience with a sumptuous occasion such as this doesn’t bother me in the slightest, andeven though we're technically here on business, I'm still going to sweep her off her feet tonight.
She takes my hand, and I help her stand before making our way to the door. I hand my keys off to the very anxious and innocent looking valet driver, silently inspecting him for any deceit in his appearance. He shows all of the normal signs of nervousness. Tiny beads of sweat dust his forehead, he hesitates before taking the keys and fidgets with them, even though the Charger has keyless ignition. This tells me everything I need to know. This kid is genuinely uneasy. Probably works valet for the Hilton downtown and isn’t used to such an exclusive event. I brush him off, deciding that he’s not a threat, and continue to escort Ashia to the door.
The men at the entryway are a different story. Tall, bulky, and the only emotion I can feel from them is determination. Clearly security, even though they look clean and polished. No tattoos, their hair is combed and greased back, and they stand firmly at attention to look professional. They’re clearly more of a threat than little valet boy back there, but I’m not so sure they’re normally involved with Hugo.
“Name?” the one standing in the middle of a group of three asks.
“Damien Hartley. I own ‘The Basement’ in downtown,” I reply, and watch as he scans the tablet in his hand for my name.
“Ah, yes. I see. I’ll add that you’ve brought a guest,” he mutters. I wait for a tick, anticipating the question of her name, but it never comes, and that aggravates me more than it probably should have.
“She has a name,” I spit out, wondering why this asshole can’t grace my woman with the decency of acknowledging her. He nods cautiously, obviously sensing my agitation. I feel the gentle squeeze from her hand, trying to reassure me that it doesn’t bother her. Though, it should. Everyone should show her the respect she deserves, and I’ll make sure she gets it.
“What is your name?” he politely asks her, but I interject, making sure he knows precisely who she is.
“Ashia Hartley,” I say, unamused. That is, until I hear the small giggle under her breath, and then I can’t stop the smirk that forms on my lips.
“Very well. If you will please step to the side, Mr. Hartley. We are conducting light body searches on all attendees at the request of the host.” He gestures to my left where another member of security is standing, and I take two steps to the side, keeping myself close enough to her that I could reach out to her if needed. I spread my arms and legs, allowing them to scan me with a metal detector and pat me down, when I notice movement on my right. I glance over to see the third security guard stepping towards Ashia with his hands stretched forward like he’s going to search her, immediately boiling my blood.
“Do you want to keep your hands? Do not fucking touch her,” I warn him past my clenched jaw, making him stop in his tracks. He looks over at the first guard with wide eyes. The one with the tablet looks her over briefly, then shakes his head, silently telling his guy to back the fuck up.
Good choice.
“He’s clear,” the one searching me confirms, and the man with the tablet gestures towards the door.
“Enjoy the party.” I step back up to her, practically plastering myself to her side as I rest my hand on the small of her back and lead her inside.
The overkill of luxury is shoved in our faces the moment the doors open. The pristine, waxed marble floors are so polished that they reflect. White, opulent walls scream at us. The color is so bright thatweappear as the dark force, and not all of the evil that is currently occupying the residence. The other party goers are dressed as elegantly as we are, but I know that no one, and nothing, shines brighter in this room than Ashia does, whether she believes that or not.
I look down at her, noticing her nervousness. Those beautiful orbs dart around the room, eyeing all of the wait staff carting food samples and champagne on trays, tracking their movements and the way they weave in and out through the groups of people. I notice the way she gawks at the spacious entryway in fear, knowing that we have barely made our way inside. Gliding my arm around her waist, I pull her close to me, tucking her under it and leading her forward.
We walk into the grand main room, or what I’m assuming used to be a ballroom back in the Early Modern Period. The space is surrounded by large picture windows, all draped with gold velvet and damask curtains that stretch to the floor. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, at least eight of them, and they illuminate the space with so much ambient light that it could almost make someone sick. The same columns from the front of the mansion seem to have traveled here as well, lining the walls. However, these are engraved with gold.
In the left corner of the room, a small ensemble plays classical music, because of course, the illusion of royalty wouldn’t be complete without the inclusion of a violin. Tables and chairs are set up, leaving an empty space in the middle of the room for small groups and light dancing. Up ahead, on the far side of the room, sits two mirroring staircases. Each winds upward towards a balcony that I assume leads to the second floor.
Between the stairs sits a stage, set up so that whoever is standing on it can clearly see the crowd. On the wall behind it is a large screen, which I’m assuming will show Hugo’s Community Action Plan, mentioned in the invitation.
I keep Ashia close to me as we make our way through the tables towards the middle, where we can be seen easily. Her anxiety doesn’t evade me, and I can tell she’s having a hard time, but we need to become a spectacle. Which won’t be hard, considering how breathtaking she looks tonight, but for a while at least, we need to be the object of Hugo’s eye. Continuing the illusion that we're harmless, while pinpointing key players and weak links in his operation.
The moment we step into the middle, I pull her even closer and press the front of our bodies together, keeping my arm wrapped around her waist, andpalm her hand in mine before swaying her softly to the music. She relaxes against me, resting her head against my cheek as she takes a couple of deep breaths. Her dress moves smoothly under my hand as I subtly stroke her back, helping her get back to a place where she’s comfortable.
Ashia then moves our hands between us, holding them close to her chest and taking control of the moment. I thought she would need more time to settle down, but once again, my brave woman rises to the occasion. Reaching between her breasts, she discreetly takes out my ear com. So slyly that if my hand wasn’t right there, I wouldn’t notice. She then cups my head with the same hand and caresses my face with the pad of her thumb while she slips my earpiece into place.
“That's my girl.” I smirk and kiss her forehead.
“That was smooth. Not going to lie,” I hear Carter say in my ear, plucking yet another nerve. I look up scowling and glaring at the security cameras that he’s clearly hacked into. “Jesus, D. I wasnotlooking at her chest.”
I chuckle and casually shake my head before looking back down at her.
“How are you holding up?” I ask her.
“I'm okay. Not quite as freaked out anymore.” She giggles softly and looks around the room. I do the same, but with a little more precision. I know exactly who I’m looking for. I’ve studied his photo so extensively that I would never be able to miss his emotionless, devoid eyes. The demon in sheep’s clothing, and the host of this soiree.
As we dance, I turn us nonchalantly, giving us both the chance to look around without turning our heads. I savor the feeling of her in my arms, trying not to lose myself in the sensation of her pressing up against me. Fitting against me so perfectly that if time were to freeze, I’d happily harden to stone and be preserved in this moment forever.
