“Ties?”
Pulling me over to a secluded corner, she grabbed two glasses of champagne off the waiter’s tray on the way there. “My sister is Ronnie Chatfield,” she confessed, her voice low. “It’s not something we speak about much, especially now that some of her girls have gone missing and turned up dead. That’s why I asked you if you were one of her girls the other day when we met. Anyway, do you see those women over there?” She pointed to a group of three women, all laughing with their fake smiles.
I nodded. “What about them?”
“They don’t like it when my sister’s girls come to the parties. I don’t want them knowing you’re a part of that crowd. Heaven knows you don’t look or act like one, so I figured it’d be easy for you to play the part. Can you do that for me?”
“You mean pretend that I’m not a prostitute?” She bit her lip and nodded. “I’m sure I can handle that. But you don’t take me as the type to care what people think.”
She snorted and held onto my elbow as we strolled toward the women. “I don’t, but unfortunately, their husbands work for William. I couldn’t get rid of them if I tried.”
As we approached, all three women eyed me up and down. Two of them were around my age with sleek hair and tight bodies, but the third woman was most likely in her early forties with fake tits and a body that screamed plastic surgery.
“Ladies,” Diane announced, “this is Aylee McFadden. She’s one of my guests.” I shook their hands and said hello.
The third woman with chocolate brown hair took a sip of her wine and grinned. “It’s nice to meet you Aylee. I’m Georgia . . . Georgia Blackwell.”
A small smile splayed across my face. “It’s nice to meet you too.” And now all I needed to do was meet her husband.
“Ah, you found us,” Will announced, getting out of his chair. “Geoffrey, pour the boy a brandy, please.”
I assumed Geoffrey was the man behind the bar because he pulled out a tumbler and filled it full of the amber liquid. He carried it over to me on a tray. “For you, sir.”
Grinning, I took the glass. “Thank you.” I finally got a good look at the men in the room and spotted Drake Blackwell immediately. All of my suspects were in the room together. What were the odds?
Will put his arm around my shoulder. “Gentlemen, this is Jason Avery, a kickass poker player I had the privilege of meeting. Not to mention, he spends a shit ton in my casino. I thought maybe he could join our game tonight.”
“Did you bring money?” Drake asked.
I chuckled. “Don’t worry, I came prepared.”
His brows lifted and he stood, extending his hand. “I think I like this young man. I’m Drake Blackwell.”
Taking his hand, I shook firmly. “Nice to meet you.”
“And this,” he said, gesturing to the man he’d been sitting with, “is my son, Blaine.” He was the youngest out of everyone in the room, but most likely close to my age with light brown hair and hazel eyes like his father.
Blaine stood and shook my hand, grinning wide. “Nice to see someone who isn’t ancient. You staying for the game tonight?”
“Don’t know. Am I invited?”
“Only if you brought Strawberry Shortcake with you,” Chazz said, glaring mischievously at me over the rim of his glass.
Blaine chuckled. “Strawberry Shortcake . . . am I missing something?”
Will sat down and smiled. “His date. She’s quite a catch I might add. Definitely different from the women you see around here.”
“And good at poker,” Mark added. It was the first thing he’d said since being in the room.
“Are you into sharing?” Drake asked, a curious glint in his eyes. All heads turned my way. Even Mark waited for my answer.
Tossing back the amber liquid, I felt the burn go all the way down. None of those fuckers were going to so much as touch her. “Not tonight, gentlemen. She’s all mine.”