Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
We step out of my office and make our way downstairs, where we say our goodbyes. I’m not in a social mood, but I greet members anyway, so they don’t notice the stress I’m carrying.
“I’m glad you didn’t close the club down,” Isaac Ambroise says as I pass him on the main level. Isaac’s pretty much the pulse and blood of Saint Pierce. He owns Oz Corps, which runs this town. All the high-level executives who work there are members here too. And some of his most important clients as well.
“I thought about it, but I have people here who depend on their paycheck,” I admit. The decision to remain open hasn’t been easy.
Isaac gives me a politician’s smile and handshake. “Call me sometime. We should do a round of golf at the club.”
I nod, wanting to get as far away from this conversation as I can, because socializing is the last thing I want to do right now. “Sure thing.” I don’t plan to play golf with him. There’s nothing on my calendar but hunting a killer.
I scan the club until my eyes land on Swan. She flutters around the large space, and I can’t help but stand here and watch.
There’s something different about her I can’t quite put my finger on. Whatever it is, it keeps my eyes glued to her. When Roman said she was pure, he was right on the mark. She has a naivety that I find alluring. And I shouldn’t. I push the thoughts away and peruse the club floor, trying to stay focused on my job. There’s definitely no room for distractions.
And that’s exactly what she is—a distraction.
I avoid making eye contact with as many people as I can, wanting to be alone with my thoughts. But all I can do right now is stare at Swan’s toned ass in that skimpy white dress.
She’s diverting me from my ever-pressing thoughts.
“She’s good,” Adele says, stepping up next to me. We watch Swan float past a few tables to deliver drinks. “The guests seem to really love her.”
I’m not sure why this annoys me, but it does. “I hope not too much.” I don’t need any assholes touching her.
Adele tilts her head and stares at me weirdly. “What is that supposed to mean?”
I look away from Adele’s prying eyes and watch as a couple laughs with Swan at something she said to them. “I just don’t want to lose any more girls.”
Adele says nothing for a long time. I haven’t properly talked to her about the murders. I haven’t opened up to anyone, really.
“It’s a terrible tragedy, but you can’t let these things define you. Keep living for those we’ve lost or else you’ll never truly heal. The best way to keep their memory alive is to live.”
“Did you read that on a fortune cookie?”
Adele huffs loudly. “You really are a stubborn ass.”
I understand the words she’s trying to say, but I can’t move past the feeling that someone is killing these women to get to me. That I’m the root cause of all this darkness. This isn’t me being cocky or anything like that. It’s just a feeling. One I can’t ignore. And if I can’t figure out who’s behind it all, it may just drag me down to the depths of hell along with it.
Chapter 5
Chloe
* * *
I can’t concentrate. I’ve been working at Club Greed for a week now, and I’m trying to learn the ropes all while gathering whatever information I can, but I’m distracted. It’s hard to focus when the person of interest keeps staring at me.
That’s what I’ve decided to call him from now on—the Person Of Interest. POI. Because when I say the name Devereaux, something happens deep inside my chest. Like a pack of wild animals wanting to be let loose, and I’m struggling to keep the cage shut.
POI makes his way across the main floor and into the alcove designated for a server station. It’s connected to the bar with an area next to it where the servers stand to wait for drinks being prepared. The station has napkins, towels, brooms, dustpans, and cleaning supplies to sanitize the tables. Well, and the couches—gross—after each use. There’s also a computer for us to ring up the drinks and cash out our sales. The server station is hidden from the rest of the club and has a door that leads to the kitchen for the light hors d’oeuvres the club serves. Across from the kitchen is a back employee area, with storage cabinets and lockers.
POI stands in the server’s entryway station, arms crossed, looking like a Greek god in a black suit that molds to his body. “How do you like working here?” he asks. His voice is so deep that it reminds me of the bass being turned all the way up on the car stereo. The tone vibrates deliciously through my bones.