Page 73 of Beautiful Rush
Our cozy dinnertook place in a private dining room that Dmitri had reserved. The crystals of a chandelier dripped from a ceiling painted with cherubs and nymphs, and the long, oval dining table was draped in white silky fabric with gold fringe. The chairs were red velvet trimmed in gold. The wall sconces were gold. It was fucking awful. Amidst all this fake grandeur designed to look like a cheap knock-off of a palace dining room in St. Petersburg, Keira was holding court. Her performance was so convincing it was Oscar-worthy. Nobody at the table would recognize that she was playing a role, except for me. And perhaps Anthony who watched her like a hawk.
Dmitri was enamored with her. Even Leon had graced her with a rare smile. The other two women at the table were merely part of the stage set. They had no lines to speak, no entrances to make. Keira Shaughnessy was the star attraction tonight. And she was pulling out all the stops.
“Kosta, you’re looking well.” She eyed me over the rim of her martini glass. She had ordered it with Beluga Gold Line and a twist. Which suited the occasion. This night was twisted. “I barely recognized you tonight.”
Okay, so we knew each other. Good to know. I was going to fucking kill Casarico and the field team for not alerting me to this. I was flying blind and had to take my cues from Keira, all the while wondering what Anthony was holding over her head. “That’s the power of an expensive suit and a haircut. It can even transform a bum like me.” I gave her a slow, easy grin. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
She laughed. “I have my moments. Anthony surprised me with the dress and shoes. He’s always been so thoughtful.”
What I heard:He’s always been a controlling asshole. Tread carefully.
“I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend.”
“A fiancé,” Anthony corrected me.
“My mistake.”
Keira smiled and held out her ring for closer inspection. It was expensive and garish and not her style. “Another surprise.”
“Nice,” I said, meaning the opposite.
“Small world,” Dmitri said, his voice tight. “I didn’t realize you knew Ronan Shaughnessy’s daughter.” He pinned me with a look of accusation.
I leaned back in my seat and took a sip of my beer. “I didn’t realize she was Ronan Shaughnessy’s daughter until tonight. She gave me a fake name, didn’t youGracie?”
She shrugged and toyed with the stem of her martini glass. “You can never be too careful. I am, after all, my father’s daughter. I keep my circle small and trust very few people. Besides, I figured you were a player.” Her gaze drifted to the blonde on my right. I’d forgotten she was there. “Turns out I was right to be careful.”
Dmitri laughed and gave me a slap on the back, his good humor restored. “I have a feeling Kosta gets his fair share of pussy.”
“No shortage on that front. Can’t complain,” I said with a grin.
Keira’s eyes flared for an instant and she nearly choked on her bite of blini topped with caviar. She covered up by draining the rest of her martini and lifted her glass as the server passed, asking for another one. She met Anthony’s scowl with a big smile. If this whole evening—watching her and knowing she’d been dragged into the middle of something I’d tried to protect her from—didn’t have my stomach twisted into knots, the show would be entertaining as hell.
She stared at the blinis and caviar that I’d left untouched on my plate. “You’re not a fan of caviar?”
“Not particularly.”
“Mmm. I love it.” She shoved an entire blini with caviar and all the toppings into her mouth and licked her fingers when she was done eating it. My gaze moved to Anthony who had been quiet most of the evening, but I had felt him watching me. I read the warning in his eyes.Stay away from Keira. Don’t even fucking look at her.
What was he holding over her head? He was keeping a close watch on her, so I had to be careful not to make this worse for her. But I needed to know she wasn’t in danger. Whatever happened tonight, there was no way in hell she was going back to her apartment with him. Or to his hotel. Or anywhere with him.
I finished my beer and signaled to the server. She was a buttoned-up woman, her hair pulled back in a tight bun that looked painful, light makeup, and glasses. She wasn’t dressed to call attention to herself, spoke in low, modulated tones if at all, to the point that nobody in the room noticed she was there. “Can I get another beer?”
“Certainly, sir.”
I pushed back my chair and threw my napkin on the table, following her out of the private dining room and closing the door behind me under the guise of going to the Men’s Room.
I jerked my chin toward the hallway, and she followed me to the end of it and around the corner. I pushed open a door that said Cloakroom and flipped the light switch, checking that the room was empty before ushering her inside and closing the door behind us.
“Last I heard we were all on the same team.” And they called me a maverick. The feds were supposed to be passing on their intel to us. They knew damn well the NYPD had a man inside, and that man was me. It was my neck on the line. My girlfriend being dragged into this mess. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”
“We need more information.”
I narrowed my eyes. “More information.”
“Keira Shaughnessy is a person of interest.”
A person of interest. The fuck? It was a handy little term to throw around and it meant jack shit. “Why? Because of who her father is? She’s not involved in any of this.”
