“Cole and Tyler know how to throw a party. I’m Michelle. I think I’ve seen you once or twice at Destiny.”
“Oh, right.” I took the hand she offered and shook it. Destiny was the well-heeled gentleman’s club the knights owned. I didn’t go there often, but I’d been a couple of times with Angie for drinks while we’d waited for Evan, and Sloane had actually worked there for a while. She’d even confessed to me that she still performed occasionally. “Tyler likes it,” she’d said with the kind of smile that suggested that she liked it, too. And liked even more what happened after the dancing.
I tried to place Michelle, but couldn’t manage it. With her body, she could have easily been a dancer, but I didn’t think so. I had a vague memory of her at the bar. And, as the memory grew stronger, I started to see Cole there beside her.
“You’re Cole’s friend, right?”
Her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “Yeah,” she said, with an amused lilt to her voice. “We’re very good friends.”
“Well,” I said tightly, as green strands of jealousy started twisting in my gut, “it’s really great to see you here.”
She said a few more hollow words about the gala and I responded with equally hollow chitchat. Then she continued on her way. I waited a moment, then decided that those knots of jealousy confirmed that I needed to just get the hell out of there. I needed to think and to regroup.
And I needed to put distance between me and Cole.
I planned to make the circle, say my goodbyes, then go home and drown my lust and indecision in a bottle of Shiraz and a really sappy movie. With any luck, Flynn would still be at work, and I could have the entire bottle to myself.
I started to meander toward the door, but didn’t make it very far. Instead, I ended up pausing just a few steps from my starting point, jerked to a stop by the sight of Michelle and Cole, her hand on his shoulder and her mouth near his ear.
True, she could have been telling him something mundane—I thought you should know your car has a flat—but my imagination was drifting more in the direction of why don’t we slip in the back and I’ll suck your cock.
Shit.
Yes, I was an absolute, indisputable wreck—and it was entirely Cole August’s fault.
I steeled myself to continue toward the exit, and kept the thought of a glass of wine and a movie dangling in front of me like a carrot. But then I saw Cole’s hand on the small of Michelle’s back, and his face as hard as stone. And then, when the two of them stopped in front of the bloated, baby-faced man Cole had been talking with earlier, my curiosity got the better of me.
I couldn’t hear the conversation, but I could tell that Cole was royally pissed off—and Baby Face looked pale and frightened.
Michelle said something to Cole, and from the way he took three long, measured breaths, I had to assume he was trying to control his temper. Then he and Michelle led a very unhappy-looking Baby Face through the gallery and into the closed-off section.
I debated for only a minute, then followed.
When I reached the velvet rope, I peered into the closed section, but didn’t see them. The painting that had caught my attention earlier was to the right, and I knew that the offices were toward the left. Both were beyond the velvet rope, and I knew that if I slipped past it a second time, I’d be kicking good manners to the curb even while embracing my inner snoop.
I shrugged. Seemed like a reasonable trade-off to me.
I slipped into the gallery, took off my shoes so as to walk more softly, and made my way to the end of the hall and the large door that led to yet another corridor. This one ran parallel to the main gallery and housed the staff offices, studio space for Cole and the featured artists, restrooms, and supply closets.