“Sounds wonderful,” Clare murmured. “Where’s The Den?”
“It’s a private club in The Motham Tower complex. You won’t have heard of it, it’s very hush-hush. The events are hosted by my boss, who owns several different enterprises here in Motham. He is a very private man, super wealthy, but reclusive. His greatest pleasure is to welcome new humans to the city,people I cherry pick for him to meet. If he chooses you, you’re pretty much guaranteed a fantastic job.”
“Chooses me?” Clare gave an ingenuous smile.
“Oh, I don’t mean, you know, in a sleazy way. If he chooses to mentor you and personally match you to an employer.”
“He doesn’t meet with every new human you have on your books?”
“Goddess no, darling, only people I recommend. And you, darling, are top of my list, because you are an absolute gem, Anna. Now, more importantly, have you got a cocktail dress? I do know a very good designer if not.”
Clare held her breath. So therewasa reason she’d brought that red dress back to Motham, why she’d hung it in the back of her wardrobe. At the time, she’d thought she was torturing herself, but it would be useful after all.
“I do actually have a lovely dress. But out of interest, who is the designer you had in mind?”
“Vlad Kominsky. But… if you have a dress… That’s fine.”
“I think I have heard of him,” Clare murmured. “Vampire?”
“Yes, a lovely guy. And so talented. I send people to him if they haven’t got a gown to wear, but clearly you’re perfectly equipped.” Emmeline beamed at her. “You are going to do so well here, Anna, I can tell by your vibe. Before you know it, you’ll be running your own business, just like me.”
“I’d love to reach your level of success.” Clare super-glued a smile to her lips.
Emmeline squealed and jumped up. “Oh, I love you already. Do you mind if I give you a hug?”
Taken aback, Clare could only nod. Immediately she was engulfed in an embrace. Emmaline’s curls smelled of apple blossom. So wholesome. As she pulled away, something scratched Clare’s cheek. “Ouch,” she said.
Emmaline looked perturbed. “Oh hon, that’s my earring, it’s got a little jagged piece on it. I should get it fixed, so sorry.”
As Clare walked out, she rubbed her cheek. There was a tiny drop of blood where that stupid earring had scratched her. She wiped it away, then checked the card. The scalloped edges, the elegant gilt writing and Emmaline’s name scrawled across it as if she’d signed it herself were all identical to the one in Natalie’s underwear drawer. Full of panache and confidence, with three little kisses at the bottom.
Interesting that Emmaline had suggested Vlad’s dress shop. It would have intrigued her to go visit the vampire. But no. She was going to wear her own red dress. The one that had sat in the back of her wardrobe, taunting her, for three years.
She wanted to thrust that night back in Oliver’s face. She’d damn well make sure he saw her wearing it before she set off on her mission. She’d even insist he place the tracking devices on her. Which meant he’d have to touch her skin, feel the silk of her dress, the same dress he’d so desperately pushed up her thighs. He’d have to recall how he’d abused her trust and ghosted her in the cruelest way possible.
She knew he’d desired her that night.
She sensed that he still did.
Well, fuck him. Let him suffer like he’d made her suffer.
How she would relish the expression on his face when he saw her. Off to mingle and flirt with wealthy Motham monsters in that very same red dress.
She smirked as she strode off down the street in her kick-ass heels and her smart suit.
It was payback time.
“So I have the green light to attend the cocktail party?”
Clare let her gaze pan across the team, gathered to hear her debrief on her first foray into undercover work. She barely let her eyes rest on Oliver Hale. She didn’t need to, his energy was like a black cloud as he lounged over by the window.
She could barely stop her lips from twitching.
Today, the tally for seriously pissing off each other was in her favor.
Doyle: 1
Hale: 0
