“Got him,” I state with confidence. “Keep with the plan we discussed and make sure you’re recording.”
My work from the last few months is about to pay off.
“I have it taken care of,” he assures me.
The wave of the crowd parts, opening a direct line to Andrew, the brunette, and her friend, who he still hasn’t left.
Inhaling deeply, I straighten my shoulders as I make my way over to them and prepare to be River Thompson, the young billionaire tech mogul. My daily persona, the one I’ve carefully curated to hide behind.
“Andrew!” I shout over the music. Placing a forceful hand on his shoulder, he stiffens and turns around. At first, his face hardens with surprise and anger, but when he recognizes me his expression relaxes.
“Fuck, River, I was about to knock you out,” he says, greeting me with a handshake.
“Like you could,” I playfully retort.
“Maybe,” he bites back, shrugging like a typical alpha male. “Glad you could make it.”
He invited me to this god-forsaken club weeks ago, and of course I said yes. I’ve been stalking him and his fellow imperious friends for some time and this was the perfect opportunity to get him in my grasp—and hopefully my kill room.
“So, what are we doing here?” I reply, but my eyes are back on the woman with the leather skirt.
But this time, a pair of large brownish-green irises meet my stare. Her lashes flutter a few times, holding my gaze while her friend takes the opportunity to get away and slowly drags her off the floor toward the bar. She eventually disappears amidst the crowd as it fills in behind her. I’m left wondering who she is and why she captured my attention so naturally.
Andrew curiously follows my line of sight. “Fucking hot, isn’t she?”
Prick.
I smile. “Hell yeah.”
Andrew flicks the bottom of his nose, rimming one nostril with a finger. Looks like he’s had his fair share of blow tonight. “Let’s go meet the rest of the guys. We have a proposition for you,” he rushes out.
I nod, following him off the vibrating floor. More women in short skirts and too much makeup grind their bodies against us as we slide past them, headed for the stairs. Andrew gestures at the bouncer near thesteps to the VIP section. He responds by removing the red velvet rope and allowing the two of us to pass.
Once we’re upstairs, I glance over the railing through the layer of fog combined with rising heat from the sea of people. I search for the brunette once again, but before I find her Andrew leads me into a secluded room on top of the club.
There’s a middle-aged man, taller than average, leaning against the wall in the corner of the room. His pants dropped to the ground while a young woman kneels in front of him. He shoves his dick down her throat while his hand grips her head securely, not seeming to care that we walked in on them.
He gives me a quick nod with a prideful smirk, before refocusing on her.
“This is Nolen Pierce,” Andrew says.
I return a slight bob of my head in his direction.
My searching gaze moves to the next piece of shit lounging on the leather couch in the back of the room.
Richard Smith.I mumble.
“Isn’t that the accountant our company tried to hire back in spring before that sexual assault charge came up?” Sebastian reminds me.
Smith interviewed for a position at Thompson Innovations, but despite his impressive credentials, a few unfavorable skeletons—includingthe charge—crawled out of his closet during background checks and we didn’t extend an offer.
“Yep,” I confirm under my breath.
I have to remember to send HR something special to have dodged that bullet.
“Of course, these are the types of guys Andrew would be associated with, especially given his background with women.”
Andrew gestures for me to follow him over to the couch.
