Page 67 of Oath
“You ready for this?” O’Rourke asked as he offered me his arm. I stared at him for a beat then at the crowd beyond. We were going in “undercover” which in and of itself meant we went for the fancier clothes. He was in a standard tuxedo that looked like it had been cut for him. Not that I didn’t appreciate a good suit, but he’d had that ready to go and easily accessible.
My dress was strapless, a deep sapphire that clung just enough to pass for haute couture but left room for movement. I hated it. No holsters, no wires—nothing but static cling and a pair of heels. I felt almost naked compared to how much I’d gotten used to at least having my taser with me.
I debated taking his arm or just moving alongside him. Really, it wasn’t much of a debate. I didn’t want to touch him. “We should keep our hands free.”
As if to illustrate my point, I gestured with the clutch purse I carried. It was lined, and if we had to x-ray it, should clear fine. If they hand-searched it, well, that would be fun too.
“If you insist,” O’Rourke said just before he cupped my right elbow with his left hand.
“Take your hand off her, or I will remove it with a rusty knife,” AB said via our comms. His tone was gravel, sober, and dead serious. “She said ‘no,’ asshole, listen to her.”
The corners of O’Rourke’s mouth tightened, but his hand fell away from me smoothly. I grinned, my mood definitely buoyed by that backup. We were at the stairs, following a line of other arrivals slowly, one step at a time.
The museum glowed like a Fabergé egg cracked open—light spilled from the marble arches, violin music floated out, and beneath it all was the buzz of money trying to look bored.
I’d gone for a more sedate, if sophisticated look by having my hair braided into a crown. It dramatically changed the lines of my face to have the hair drawn back so snugly.
I’d actually made an appointment with a salon to get my hair, cosmetics, and nails done. It had taken a little over two hours and that was with me paying them extra for more staff to get it done. A necessary investment because I needed to both standout and blend in at the same time. Arm candy needed to have a certain vibe. Tonight, I was definitely winning a prize in that pretty enough to be here, but not so attractive as to turn heads.
A fine line, but I knew what I had to work with and I focused on it, right down to strapping my breasts until they appeared even smaller than they actually were. The number of guys who were boob men and would overlook me without the sign of curves might have been staggering if I hadn’t modeled on the runways more than a few times.
At the top of the steps, we slowed further to hand off our invitation, then pass through security. The metal detector was definitely a chokepoint.
“Excuse me, miss,” a suited security guard said to me. “If you’ll just come this way, you can join your date on the other side.”
“See you soon,” I murmured to O’Rourke as I followed the guard to where a line of other women, dressed in similarly sprayed on clothing were being admitted and bypassing the metal detectors.
Some were having their purses go through an x-ray machine. Others were just handing them over to be searched. When it was my turn, I gave up the clutch without argument. The man flicked it open, gave it a cursory glance in between long studying looks at the crowd behind me.
When he finished closing it and handing it back, I flashed him another smile. “Thank you so much.”
I didn’t even merit a grunt of acknowledgment. If anything, he’d barely looked at me. I drifted past, my heels clicking on the stone as I moved to stand near the doors but not in the direct path. O’Rourke hadn’t made it quite through his line yet.
“You were right, Firecracker,” Voodoo murmured. “The idea that some of these men are that blind is just sad for them.”
I didn’t laugh, nor did I respond verbally. Talking to myself while I was standing there alone was more likely to net me the kind of attention we didn’t want.
It took O’Rourke time, but he finally made it through and strode over to meet me. “That took longer than expected.” His tone was more bored than irritated. “Thank you for waiting.”
“I’d say you’re welcome,” I answered, shifting my attention forward as I pivoted to accompany him inside. “But I don’t like you, so you’re not.”
“Oh,” he murmured in a tone dry as the desert. “Ouch. I’m wounded.”
“Keep it up,” I told him with a wider grin before we stepped inside, “and you will be.”
There was a huff of laughter over the comms. “Focus, Gracie,” Legend said. “You can ignore the asshole. If there’s any need to evacuate him, I’ll take care of it.”
“You’re all hilarious,” O’Rourke said as he adjusted his cufflinks before taking two glasses of champagne from a waiter passing by. Rather than argue with him again, I accepted the flute he offered but I didn’t bother to drink.
The temperature inside the wider galleries seemed to drop. What created a crowded atmosphere in the vestibule and main entry, decreased significantly as we “wandered” away. I wasn’t familiar with the museum, though AB had gone over the plans with me until I could recite how many steps I needed to take to get to our first destination.
“You want it to be automatic so that when the pressure is on, you don’t have to think about it.”
“Have you considered what you’re going to do once all of this is over?” O’Rourke asked as he caught my arm but only long enough to detour me around another couple who’d planted themselves in front of a painting that took up most of the wall. As soon as we were clear, he released me again.
“Not particularly,” I told him before I passed him the flute. “Could you hold this for me for a moment?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” He flashed me a toothy smile and it took everything I had to not roll my eyes.
