Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,51
once carved letters into a tree in the middle of a frozen forest, then I move back into the hall with slow steps. I cross my living room, pass the kitchen, step around Will’s “found” La-Z-Boy, then pause at the door and peek through the peephole.
There, in a suit and cap, Evan McGrady’s driver stands under the shelter of my door with a box in his hands, and a pleasant enough expression on his face that might mean he’s not here to murder me.
He really is a McGrady employee, I’ve seen him around, so I release the breath I was holding and start working on the locks. One lock, two, three. The last is the hardest, the most secure, but I get it open without fuss, and slowly inch my door open.
“Miss Quinnton.” He peeks at me through the gap and grins. “Evening.”
“Why are you here so early?”
“A gift, Miss Quinnton.” He offers the box. “From Mr. McGrady himself. I’ll also be your driver tonight, as instructed by Mr. McGrady, so I’ll wait out here. But you mustn’t rush. I have patience.”
I slowly accept the box and furrow my brows. “And if I were to call Mr. McGrady right now, he would confirm you’re supposed to be at my door?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tips his chin. “I am but a servant doing his job. Mr. McGrady has given me orders to drive you safely where you’ve got to go.” He removes his hat, bows, and takes a step back. “I can wait, Miss. Quinnton. Take your time.”
After closing the door and moving back into my bedroom, I take my phone and dial the club. It occurs to me now that I don’t have Evan’s private cell number, so I wait for the guy on the front desk to answer, then speak louder to be heard over the music.
“Mr. McGrady, please. This is Tori calling.”
“Of course.”
I’m sent straight through, no questions, no hesitation, until the line clicks and the room is now much quieter.
“Prima?”
“Mr. McGrady.” I set the box on the bed and exhale. “Did you send a driver for me tonight? There’s a man at my door, and I wanted to make certain that he was yours.”
“Yes, Prima.” He rolls the ‘r’ in ‘Prima,’ and sends tingles right down to the bottom of my stomach. “I sent Ivan. He is five feet, ten inches tall, a hundred and ninety pounds with a paunch at his stomach. He has dark green eyes, and dark brown hair. He was also instructed to announce himself, and introduce himself as mine, so if I find out he did not—”
“No, he did.” Sitting on the bed beside the box, I draw in a deep breath, then let it out again and force a smile. “He did nothing wrong. I was caught off guard because he’s early, but he did introduce himself, and he matches the description you gave, so it’s fine.”
“I apologize for startling you, Prima. It was not my intention.”
“It’s fine. I live in a rough area, so it’s always best to be careful.” I look at the box. “You sent me a gift?”
“Oh, yes,” he purrs. “I do hope you like it. Did you open it yet?”
“No, I… no.”
“Well, go on.”
I reach out and work on loosening the ribbon securing the gold box closed. I pull the gentle silk away, let it pool on my covers, then I open the lid of the box and gasp.
“Oh wow. It’s so pretty.”
Jamie
Lap Dances Don’t Come For Free
Just as Sophia promised, I’m able to walk straight through the front doors of Zeus’ nightclub. No check-in. No search. Not even a coat check, since it’s not winter. I merely walk through the front doors and emerge into the flashing club to find strippers sliding along a pole, and men sitting around to watch them.
I stop just inside the doorway and stand in the shadows for a moment to take stock of my surroundings. The room spread out in front of me is slightly sunken. Three steps down, you find yourself in a space filled with small circular tables framed with two chairs each, though most only have one person occupying each space. Everyone has a drink in front of them, and though there are topless servers making rounds and delivering more, the men’s eyes are glued to the stage. The poles. The women dancing around them.
There are three entertainers on stage; two have tops on, one does not.