Sinners & Starlight: Chapter Two
No amount of alcohol or denial can stop him from finally confronting the beautiful artist who haunts his dreams...especially on Midsummer's Eve
Cade hated social events.
Despised them, really.
He hated the schmoozing. The flouncing. The fake flattery and tittering laughter that grated inside his head worse than nails on an old chalkboard.
Then again, there was nothing a good drink…or several…couldn’t fix.
“I’m holding you to it, Cade.” Seka wagged her finger in his face with all the confidence of someone who knew he wouldn’t chop it off. For now. “Open bars are expensive as hell. If you stick me with the bill—”
“I said I’m covering it, yeah?” He wrapped his hand around hers and lowered that accusatory finger. But he didn’t let go, not while she insisted on zipping around the place in a frenzy. “I already took care of the first half.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You better. Last year’s debacle ended up with me practically having to sell half my house just for the damage, let alone the consumption! Because where were you? Huh?”
Cade refused to acknowledge the heat rising in his face. “I was…preoccupied. With our guests.” A pair of very limber, very eager, and very beautiful guests. “Tonight will go smooth. Stop worrying. A few drinks, a few games, some loud music—everyone will have a great time! You’ll see.”
“There’s a lot I’d rather not see, thank you.”
He chuckled and finally let go of her hand. After all these years, and how many Midsummer Night parties? Seka knew what to expect, and she was “guilty” of participating in more than a few delectable orgies once the liquor hit her system. But at the same time, Cade couldn’t blame her for not wanting to see the naked asses of people they’d both have to negotiate serious business deals with the next morning.
“I left my check with your office, by the way.” He wandered over to one of the art pieces in the room and touched a finger to the sharp tip of a gold leaf suspended from one of the wall lamps. It wasn’t enough to make him bleed, which was somewhat disappointing.
“I heard. Thank you.” She smoothed out her bodycon dress and cleared her throat. Her thick sable hair was finally starting to grow longer out of the shaved faux hawk fade she’d insisted on getting a few months ago; it gave her overall appearance a sexy-yet-intimidating edge she’d need for the night’s festivities. Paired with her perfectly sculpted brows that arched over dangerously glinting amber eyes, Seka Derringer was more hunter than prey in any given situation.
Cade wondered if it was on purpose.
He often wondered if she, like him, refused to revisit The Old Days of being someone else’s victim.
Seka whipped her attention to one of Cade’s personal picks for guards, Vic, who they both spotted waving at her from down the hall. “Looks like our artist is here. I need to go make her comfortable.”
For the briefest of moments, Cade felt his throat close. He managed to clear it before scratching out, “Artist?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged a casual shoulder and focused on something on her phone. Like she was avoiding his gaze. “You know, entertainment. We’re still fundraising for that charity program, after all. I figured it’d be a good idea to hire someone to sweeten the pot.”
“Mhm.” He narrowed his eyes at her, but couldn’t pick out anything betraying that shenanigans were afoot. “Right.”
“Right. So, be good.” Seka tapped her phone screen off and shot him a warning Look over her shoulder as she went to join Vic. “I mean it, Cade. We’ve got a lot riding on this.”
As if she needed to remind him.
Tonight wasn’t just a celebration of seasonal changes and celestial solstice—although that was the origin of the annual shindig—but rather a giant window of opportunity to gather as much blackmail and bargaining material as humanly…and inhumanly…as possible. The guest list Seka confirmed with him a week ago included three district court judges, two city hall clerks, the police commissioner, and a mayoral candidate whose campaign was in desperate need of a financial benefactor.
All humans.
All completely susceptible to—and unaware of—the kind of fae magic that surged and seeped through the pores of all who felt the solstice’s energy shift.
A few innocent drinks were enough to loosen tongues so secrets would spill into the ears and recorders Cade made sure to set up in every corner of building.
A few more drinks, this time laced with drops of essences not found in the Outworld (but heavily bargained for with a bouncer who traveled between realms often enough) ensured that every word that tumbled from intoxicated lips would only be the truth.
Whatever happened after all the alcohol and soul-spilling was entirely up to the human. In Cade’s experience, they almost always wound up in exceptionally compromising positions that required some considerable detangling the next morning. While not the most pleasant to look at, to Seka’s point, this was the most ideal outcome with the more corrupt politicians who delighted in Cade’s generous hospitality. All he had to do was show them a few choice pictures on his phone whenever they started getting difficult, and suddenly they were more than happy to cooperate.
The one hard and non-negotiable rule of all these events was consent.
Cade Devoy forbade the theft of consent on pain of death.
Sure, there were many potions and essences from the Otherworld constantly smuggled into Chicago, and far be it from him to police it. In many ways, he didn’t outright care. But when it came to things that went on inside his house, his establishments specifically, and under his own nose?
No one dared to play that game. He forbade it, and that was that.
“Cade.” One of his “business associates”, Milo, broke him out of his reverie and greeted him with a strong handshake and a clap on his shoulder. “Good of you to be here.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Lies. Cade slid his crafty gaze to the fae with the tiniest of smirks. “And I need to empty a few accounts before tax season.”
Milo shook his head with a good-natured sigh. “I keep telling you, you’re wasting your skills in real estate. You should be consulting with financial investors.”
“And make them wealthier than me? Absolutely not.”
Cade nodded to the waiting DJ to go ahead and start playing music. It was seven o’clock on the dot, and he hated delays.
“Drinks are on me tonight.” He returned the shoulder pat with his own. “I don’t want you sober by the time we’re done.”
He grinned at Cade, the golden lamplight glinting on his sharp incisors. “You got it.”
As more people came in through the nondescript front door, the overhead lights began to dim and the spinning disco ball descended from a slot in the ceiling. A few of the guests beelined for the bar once they saw the sign green-lighting unlimited imbibing; others stumbled excitedly onto the dance floor to warm up with their partners.
Cade decided this was the time to become antisocial and assume his favorite chair in his favorite booth in the far corner of the venue. No one would bother him with their questions unless he allowed them to. No one would approach him unless he gave the signal that they were allowed.
He wasn’t going to. He was not in the mood.
His gaze kept flicking to the hallway where a set of stairs led to the lower level.
Stop it.
Chicago was filled with artists from all over the world. Seka most likely hired some down-on-their luck savant just to boost their morale and their wallet; she had a soft spot for things like that.
The chances that she—
No.
He rubbed a hand over his face. Let it go. Get a drink.
Gods knew he needed several drinks in order to stop thinking about her.
He couldn’t afford to think about her tonight. He couldn’t juggle the ache in his chest with the heat surging beneath his skin or the plans in place to secure stronger footing within Chicago’s political infrastructure.
One flick of his fingers was all it took for one of the bartenders to approach his booth with a slight bend at the waist. “What can I get for you, sir?”
“Bourbon. Neat.” He drummed his fingers on the table, feeling increasingly unsettled as time ticked forward. “Make it two.”
“Coming right up, sir.”
Cade suspected he might need a keg of the stuff before the night was through.
The first tumbler of bourbon was enough to ease the itch. The second started to numb the edges of the ache in his heart—no, his chest.
“Another,” he told the waiting barkeep. “And keep them coming.”
“Caedon-waydon, won’t you come dance with me?”
He was drunk, but not that drunk.
“Why don’t you dance for me, babydoll?” He smoothed his hand over her hip as she sidled onto his lap. It was difficult to tell which was stronger, the liquor on her breath or the perfume on her neck.
Whatever-her-name-was giggled and purred and slid her bony ass closer. “Mmmm, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
“You know it.”
His playful nip at her nose earned him an annoying peal of laughter. Her playful attempt to kiss him was dodged by a smooth sip of his third…ieth…bourbon. When she tried again, he tucked his arm around her and offered the glass tumbler to her lips.
“Good stuff.” He gave her hip a naughty squeeze and weighed the cost benefits of giving in to her ploy for his more intimate affections. He couldn’t remember her name, but he vaguely remembered she’s a hellcat in bed.
It helped she also somewhat resembled—
Nope. Cade immediately sat up straighter and set the fae woman down on the seat next to him.
“You okay?” She furrowed her brow as she pressed her hand to his chest. “You’re acting all jumpy.”
He scoffed and grabbed for his drink. “The hell are you talking about?”
But she was right, now that he focused on it. About as much as his sloshing brain would allow him to. Just when he finally felt that stupid pressure in his chest fade away completely, Whatsherface had to plop down on his lap and flare it up all over again.
Worse than before.
“Maybe we should hit the dance floor.” Whatever he needed to do to take his mind off things. He nuzzled her neck and added a whisper to his offer. “I’ll show you my moves now…and later.”
She took the bait. Believed the lie. Giggled and led him by the hand to the overcrowded dance floor before she was suddenly swept away by her friends, their suspicious stares darting between the woman and their dangerous host.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t a total lie. All things considered, Cade still had needs and desires and probably would want to get his rocks off after his obligations of the evening were said and done. It’d be the perfect distraction from…other things.
Like the memories of a certain lush-lipped artist he swore he’d never see again.
That was his gift to her. Because damn it all, she managed to make him care.
And caring about anyone meant making sure he kept his tainted life far the fuck away from them.
Cade blinked. He’d been making his way through the dance floor, lost in his thoughts, when the disco and strobe lights started sparkling off the guests. Half of them were covered in glitter. Golds, silvers, fuchsias, some with rainbows shimmering down their arms…the disco ball was starting to look dim compared to Seka’s guest list.
He caught the eye of one of the guards. Noticed the silver streaks sparkling along his jaw. “Not you, too?”
Dan smiled sheepishly and shrugged as Cade approached him. “When in Rome, right? Besides, it’s for a good cause.”
“Please tell me the others—”
The question was both cut off and answered by the guffawing of three of Cade’s other men. Cillian, Eric, and Sid knocked back a round of beers and jostled for their wallets as they shuffled toward the top of the stairs. One of Seka’s assistants negotiated the bidding war; they all laughed and played along until a price was agreed upon, and then they stuffed cash into the lock box without hesitation.
It’s Cade who felt hesitant.
No.
Protective.
…Of what?
“What’s downstairs?” He asked Dan. Something deep down warned him that the correct word was who.
