The Tycoon's Rebel Bride (The Anetakis Tycoons #2)(34)

But as Sadie said, no one would bother looking at her face. Not when so much else of her was on display.

She wobbled her way toward a waiting taxi and got in. As he pulled away, she supplied the address that Sadie had provided her. He didn’t even blink an eye, and who could blame him with the way she was dressed? It amused her to think he might have assumed she was at the hotel for “business” purposes.

Nervousness tickled her stomach as they maneuvered through traffic. By the time the cab pulled up to the back entrance of the club, sweat beaded her forehead.

She sat for a moment staring out her window until the driver cleared his throat.

“Sorry,” she muttered. She shoved the appropriate money over the seat and then got out. “Well, here we go,” she said, as she tentatively walked to the door.

The hallway just inside the door was cloaked in darkness. A good thing. Even though Sadie had assured her that no one would notice the slight differences in the girls, this charade still made Isabella extremely nervous.

She was wearing so much makeup, that even her overbearing security team hadn’t been able to tell it was her.

When she got to the door simply marked “girls,” she eased inside. There was a flurry of activity, and no one paid her any mind. Another girl bumped into her as she walked past, and Isabella shied away, afraid of getting too close.

“Hey, Sadie,” another girl called. “We weren’t sure you were coming. You’re up after Angel, so you better hurry and get ready.”

Isabella’s stomach dropped, and she swallowed back her panic. She could do this. No one knew it was her. While she wasn’t the expert that Sadie was, she could still move well, and Sadie had spent the afternoon teaching her the necessary act.

She smiled and nodded in the girl’s direction and took a spot at Sadie’s dressing station to check her makeup and to make sure her wig was securely in place.

When she caught her reflection in the mirror, all that she could think was how sad her eyes looked. No matter how made-up her face was, how perfect the hair, the eyes told the story. And the story was that she’d lost the one man she’d hoped to spend the rest of her life with.

More to have something to do than any real need to repair her makeup, she slowly applied more lipstick, watching as her lips glistened blood red. Mechanically she brushed the mascara wand over her eyelashes, elongating her already dark lashes.

But still, her green eyes stared lifelessly back at her.

“Sadie, you’re up in five,” a male voice barked from the door. “Get a move on.”

Isabella pushed herself jerkily from her chair and spared one last glance in the mirror. She looked scared to death.

Sucking in a deep, steadying breath, she adjusted her clothing, plumped up her br**sts and headed for the door.

Theron stared out the window of Chrysander’s penthouse, his mostly forgotten drink still in hand. Dusk was falling, and the lights of the city were coming alive, popping on the horizon.

He still wasn’t sure his decision had been the correct one. He’d questioned himself repeatedly through the day, and yet, he could find no fault with the path he’d taken.

But now he had no idea what to do about Isabella.

He turned in irritation when his BlackBerry rang. It was sitting on the coffee table several feet away where he’d tossed it earlier. With a resigned sigh he walked over to pick it up.

Seeing Reynolds’s name on the LCD immediately put him on edge. He hit the answer button and put the phone to his ear.

“Anetakis,” he said shortly.

“Mr. Anetakis, this is Reynolds. We have a situation, sir.”

Theron put his drink down with a thud. “What situation?” he demanded.

“Earlier this evening, Ms. Caplan gave us the slip. Again.”

“What? And you allowed her to do this again?”

“I’m afraid it’s worse, sir. I’ll be happy to fill you in on the details later, but at the moment we’re on our way to La Belle Femmes.” He paused for a moment. “Are you familiar with it, sir?”

Theron’s brow furrowed in concentration as he absorbed the information. “Isn’t that a gentlemen’s club? And why the hell are you going there?”

“Because that’s where Ms. Caplan went,” Reynolds said calmly. “I assumed you’d want to know.”

“Damn right I want to know!” Theron exploded. “I’m on my way now, and don’t think I won’t want to know exactly how this went down.”

He hurried toward the door, his finger on the button to call for his driver. By the time he made it to the lobby, the car was waiting in front of the building.

What in God’s name was Isabella doing in a gentleman’s club? What was she thinking? Was Marcus somehow responsible for this? Theron was going to kill him.

When his driver screeched up to the club entrance, Theron got out and saw Reynolds along with his two men hurrying toward him.

“Is she here?” Theron demanded.

“We just arrived,” Reynolds explained. “We were about to go in to see.”

Theron strode ahead of them to the door and was stopped by a large man wearing dark glasses.

“Your name, sir?” the man politely inquired.

“Theron Anetakis,” he said impatiently. “Someone I know is in there. Someone who shouldn’t be here.”