Or what about Cole August, Black’s business partner, who received so much adulation from the press and the public for the way he’d pulled himself up out of the muck of his Chicago South Side heritage to become one of the most respected and influential businessmen in the city? He might look positively drool-worthy as he stalked the far side of the room with a cell phone pressed against his ear, the very picture of the entrenched businessman.
But I happened to know that August hadn’t left that shady heritage as far behind as he liked to pretend.
And then there was Tyler Sharp.
“That’s the one,” Candy had said when I ran the name by her. “Amy was head over heels for the guy.”
“He feel the same?”
“Don’t know.”
“But she was fucking him?”
“Yeah. At least, I think so. I mean, wasn’t like she was posting pictures on Facebook. But no way would she have walked away from that, and from what you’re saying …”
We might have been talking on the phone, but I could still picture the way Candy shrugged as she trailed off. I knew what she meant. I’d done additional homework on Tyler Sharp, much of which I’d relayed to Candy. To bottom line it, he had a weakness for women, and I fully intended to capitalize on his womanizing ways. If I couldn’t get into Destiny through my stellar waitressing skills, I’d get in close through the man.
In other words, I was planning a seduction.
All things considered, that was a better approach than my first plan. Waitressing only gave me access to the club. But sex opened all sorts of doors. Pillow-talk. Computer access. Who knew what else. Play the game right, and I’d have a box seat to the best show in town, whether it was gambling, smuggling, or something much more heinous.
And if it turned out that Tyler had gotten Amy involved with anything hinky, I’d castrate the son of a bitch.
First, I had to find him.
He’d been out of town for the last few weeks, so I had yet to see him in person, but I was certain I’d recognize him the moment he entered this room. Like I said, I’d done my homework, and where looking at photographs of Tyler Sharp was concerned, that wasn’t exactly a hardship. The man definitely qualified as eye candy.
He stood just over six feet tall with a lanky, athletic build and the kind of dark blond hair that boasts flashes of gold in the summer. I knew that his business interests were wide and varied and not always legal. And I knew that he carried an American Express Black card. He owned at least a dozen cars, but rarely drove them, preferring his Ducati motorcycle.
“You look lost.”
I’d been glancing toward the entrance, but now I jerked my head to the left and found myself staring at a leggy brown-eyed blonde with hair so thick and shiny she could do shampoo commercials. She held out her hand, and I took it without thinking. “I’m Katrina Laron—Kat,” she said, then hooked her thumb toward Angelina Raine. “I’m the bride’s best friend, which makes me the pseudo-hostess. And you are?”
Her smile was polite, but held an edge, and I was certain that she knew damn well I’d crashed the party.
Great.
“Sloane O’Dell,” I said, using my mother’s maiden name and not my own last name of Watson.
“Who are you here with? I think I know everyone on Lina’s side of the guest list, so you must be a friend of Evan’s?” Again with the polite smile. Again with the protective edge.
“I’m actually looking for Tyler,” I said, and prided myself on my ability to tell the truth and lie all at the same time.
“Oh, really?” Her brows lifted. “Friend or foe?”
“Excuse me?” I kept my expression casual and hoped that my naturally pale skin wasn’t flushing.
“It’s just that I know Tyler didn’t bring a date, and if you’re not one of Angie’s or Evan’s guests …”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I took a chance,” I said, once again relying on total honesty. “I think he’ll want to see me.” Okay, that part I wasn’t nearly as sure about.
“Listen, I don’t mean to sound like a bitch, but Tyler’s a pretty private guy who attracts a lot of female attention.” She shrugged. “You wanna tell me why you think he’ll want to see you?”
“Not really, no.”
She looked at me hard, obviously taking my measure. Then she snagged a glass of wine off a passing waiter’s tray and took a long swallow “All right then. Let’s go find him.”