Page 69 of Wicked Lies

“Did you see the new fall line at Chanel?” Isabelle asked.

Cheryl tried to concentrate on both conversations. “No, I didn’t.”

“You must have Nick take you. They have some fabulous purses.”

“Bad news always does,” Raul said.

“Bad news?” Nick’s voice was casual around his tightened jaw.

“And of course their shoes are the best.” Isabelle sipped her champagne.

“Probably nothing to worry about,” Raul offered. “Just Graciela with her usual shit and party-girl drama.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you heard?”

“Nick, so glad you’re in Miami,” a voice boomed as another man approached the table. Nick locked eyes with Raul for another second, then greeted the man standing to his left.

“Jared, good to see you.” The two men shook hands, and Nick switched gears.

“Cheryl, this is Jared Klein. He manages the Delano.”

“Nice to meet the woman I’ve heard so much about,” Jared said.

She marveled at the grapevine in Miami. Nick bringing a woman to South Beach aroused everyone’s scrutiny. Jared sat at the end of the table between the two men, his milk-white complexion and red hair were in direct contrast to Nick and Raul.

Nick broke the seal on the bottle of Patron and poured each of them a shot.

“A toast.” Isabelle held her glass up, and they all followed. “Here’s to Cheryl, the only woman who could tame our Nick.”

They shot the smoky liquor and chased it with lime slices.

“Now, if the beautiful ladies will excuse us for a minute, I have some business questions for Nick.” Jared turned toward the men, and they all did more shots.

The champagne and tequila swimming through Cheryl’s bloodstream made her feel weightless, lifting her anxiety and guilt, giving her an excuse for putting off the inevitable and enjoying this magical night. Surely, they were safe from Frank’s retribution in a crowded club. She highly doubted he pull a St. Valentine’s Day Massacre in the VIP room of the Oasis South.

Nick played the perfect host, but he passed on the last few shots as his gaze continued to skitter past them to the first floor.

Cheryl leaned into Nick’s ear. “What are you looking for?”

“Nothing.” He forced a smile. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes, your friends are great.” She loved his exclusive attention, like no one else existed. Making her his priority squashed her gnawing insecurities, but amped up the guilt to a dizzying level.

He pressed his lips against her ear. “I'm so proud you’re mine.”

His words sent her back to their bedroom and how he’d made her claim him. The memory brought a familiar tingling between her legs, and when she caressed his thigh under the table, he flashed her a wicked grin. Two minutes later, his gaze shifted again, and her instincts ramped up, then ebbed away on a wave of tequila.

“I’ll be right back.” He brushed a kiss to her cheek, then bolted from the booth and bounded down the stairs to the main floor.

“He’s preoccupied when he’s here.” Isabelle rested her hand on her arm. “Hard to take his mind off the job.”

She’d seen the same tension mixed with a heavy dose of anger on Nick’s face at the beach this afternoon, and again tonight when he talked with Carlos. Maybe he had secrets, too, but the thought floated away on a champagne cloud as Isabelle refilled her glass and recited the latest fashion news.

* * *

When Nick hitthe first floor, he let the people move and surge around him so he could observe first and then act. Alejandro stood by the line of unisex restrooms, shielded by the sheer size of the water wall. As people moved past him, they either purchased his product or moved on. The cocky way he held himself made it clear they expected and accepted his presence.

Alejandro’s black hair slicked into a sleek ponytail at the nape of his neck accentuated his hollowed features. His designer club clothes clung to his skeletal frame, telling Nick he definitely used as much as he sold, but he had to give the kid credit. He’d figured out how to run a business within a business.

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