Misconduct(83)

“I’ve driven him around for more than five years,” he told me, his hazel eyes locked on mine. “Do you know how many calls he’s made, deals he’s negotiated, and people he’s spoken to during those drives when he thought I wasn’t listening?” he asked rhetorically.

“Being invisible has its perks.” He went on, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve gotten to see all the arguments he’s had with his father, with his brother… when they try to mold him into something he doesn’t want to be.”

He chewed the corner of his mouth, looking like he was thinking. I waited and listened.

“I’ve seen the frustration on his face when he worries about his kid,” he continued. “I’ve seen how he responds to women, and I know when one means more than all the others.” He paused, staring at me, his insinuation clear.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve had the privilege of seeing him more closely than probably anyone else, and I can tell you, his character isn’t just for the camera,” he disclosed. “Yes, I do think he would make a great senator.”

“Patrick.” A deep voice cut through the room, and we both jerked around to see Tyler standing behind us.

Patrick hopped off the bar chair and tucked it in. “Sir.”

Tyler’s eyes darted from him to me and then back to him, and I knew he’d heard at least part of what we’d been talking about.

“Thank you.” He nodded at Patrick, but he looked and sounded curt. “I have my car, so you’re done. Have a good night.”

And Patrick left without another word, leaving me in Tyler’s hands.

I decided not to feel bad about plying Patrick with questions. Tyler Googled me, after all.

I tilted my head and took in his appearance, surprised to see a difference. He wore a coal-black suit with a black shirt open at the collar and no tie. His short black hair shined in the light, and for some reason he looked younger than he usually did. Maybe it was the surroundings.

“You wore it.” He let his eyes fall down my body as he commented on the dress.

I stood up, grabbing my bag and my drink. “You sound surprised.”

He smirked, leading me away. “With you, always,” he joked.

With a hand on my lower back, he guided me toward the elevator.

The doors opened, and we stepped inside. As soon as he pressed the button for three, the doors closed, and he hooked an arm around my waist, pulling me in.

“Hey,” he whispered and then captured my lips, completely taking me over. His soft lips were gentle but fast and playful. He dipped in, nibbling and kissing, and then cocked his head the other way, going back for more as he grabbed my ass in both hands.

My knees buckled, and thank goodness his arms were wrapped around me, holding me up.

“You look beautiful.” He spoke in a husky voice, pinching my chin between his thumb and fingers.

He kissed me one last time, then let me go just as the doors opened, and I clutched his arm, feeling like my muscles had turned to Jell-O.

A host stood outside the elevator and smiled as soon as he saw us.

“Mr. Marek,” he greeted, bowing his head just a bit. “Right this way.”

He led us through a spacious lounge, complete with a small dance floor and several square arrangements of sofas, sparsely filled. The third floor of Veil was much like the first floor, but what was white downstairs was black upstairs, which made the ambience darker and more cavelike.

The water-tank columns glowed purple and the black curved bar had an array of different bottles along the wall, each glowing with the light built into the backsplash. Several semiprivate booths lined the perimeter of the room, and it appeared right away that guests in here were on a different plane from what I was used to. Nearly all of the men had young, beautiful women with them, and champagne was everywhere. The chandeliers glittered in the dim light, and I had the strangest feeling of being in a dream.

“Marek,” a man’s voice called, and we both stopped, turning around.

A gentleman, about the same age as Tyler, approached him with a smile and shook his hand. “How are you? Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “Busy as usual. What do you think?”

He quirked a smile at me and placed his hand on my back again. “This is Easton Bradbury,” he told the man, and I felt a momentary shock that he’d introduced me so freely.

“Easton?” Tyler said. “This is James Guillory.”

I shook the man’s hand, narrowing my eyes as realization dawned. “As in oil?” I asked, shocked again.

The Guillorys owned half the oil rigs in the Gulf.

He winked at me, clearly interested in neither confirming nor denying it.

He slapped Tyler on the arm. “Keep in touch,” he told him, and walked back to his table, packed with his buddies and their ladies.

Tyler led me to where the host had stopped and let me slide into the booth first. Our table was set in a semiprivate space with drapes on both sides, a three-sided couch, and a low glass table, making it easy to get up and move around.

Tyler sat down, ordered some champagne and began to relax, resting his elbows on the back of the sofa.

“So this is where the millionaires come to play with their secrets?” I looked around at the heavy flow of liquor and the pretty women who probably weren’t their wives.