small part of me that doesn’t enjoy tonight’s theme. It’s over the top and ostentatious, but it’s nights like these where I get to enjoy the money I’ve made, mingle with people who I know are as shady and fucked up as I am.
Tonight is the perfect opportunity for the Constantines to seduce the degenerate and depraved people on their payroll, and who am I to turn my nose up to good food, top-shelf alcohol, and the perfect backdrop for a showdown with dear old dad?
Buttoning up my jacket, I run my hands down the fitted material, enjoying the way the embroidered satin feels against my skin. Black as night, with a gold filigree-like pattern that starts at my shoulders and works its way down my sleeves, the blazer matches the design of my Venetian mask. Molded to my exact measurements, the mask covers seventy-five percent of my face, with my right eye and cheek exposed, the rest covered by an intricately woven piece of metal.
Just as I’m about to head inside, I feel a soft tap on my shoulder. Turning, I find Ashley, a good friend of mine, wearing a gold, floor-length, strapless gown that accentuates every womanly curve she has. Paired with a diamond encrusted headpiece, she’s an absolute vision.
“Ashley,” I greet, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek. “Looking like a dream, as always.”
“Grayson.” She smiles. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Likewise.” I hold out my arm for her, and she loops her own through.
“No date tonight?” I ask.
“It’s all work and no play for me, unfortunately,” she explains as we head to the main entrance. Ashley Lema owns the biggest escort service in New York City, and she’s also one of the few people who knows more than the surface level stuff about me.
“I could’ve picked you up,” I tell her.
“Some of the girls are working as servers tonight, so I brought them up with me.” I narrow my eyes at her, and she notices my confusion. “When they work as servers, they get paid double. They get the hourly rate by the catering company, and then they get another amount from the horny slime ball who’s been eyeing them all night while his wife is hanging off his arm.”
“Charming,” I say sarcastically. “And what happens to the wife?”
“Nothing,” she shrugs. “He’s so keyed up all he wants is a quick and hard fuck, or that filthy blowjob his ball and chain won’t give him, so he tells the wife he’s going to the bathroom and comes back feeling like he’s the king of the fucking world.”
Shaking my head, I laugh humourlessly. “I don’t know whether to be grateful men like that give you work or disgusted that they exist.”
“Oh, G,” she coos. “Not everybody is suffering through a morality crisis like you are.”
“Excuse me?” I feign ignorance, but if there’s anyone who’s going to call me out on my shit, it’s Ashley.
“What? Are we going to pretend you’re not pining over Kai?”
“I don’t pine over him,” I lie.
I do pine over him. It’s pathetic how much. I want him every day, and all the time, but I can’t risk breaking something between us that can never be fixed.
Losing him isn’t an option, even if it means I can’t have him.
When we arrive in the middle of the gaudy foyer, there’s a large table draped in a black velvet cloth and lined up with full champagne flutes. Guests mill around, picking at the Hors d’oeuvres being passed around, and sipping on champagne. The men talk shop while the women ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhh’ at each other’s outfits.
An eager young man dressed in a sleek black tuxedo and a simple black eye mask walks up to us. He holds a tablet in one hand.
“Good evening, sir.” His eyes roam down the length of Ashely’s body. “Miss.”
With a loud huff, Ashley slides her arm out of mine, and steps forward, getting in the host’s space. She places her index finger under his chin and makes him look her square in the eye.
“If you want to get paid for tonight, sweetheart, make sure your eyes stay on my face.”
I lower my head to hide my smirk and give the young guy some time to compose himself without an audience.
When he clears his throat, I raise my eyes to find him looking down at the tablet, swiping at the screen. “Would I be able to get your names, please? So I can mark you off the guest list.” His demeanour