We weave a path through the crowd and out onto the large dance floor. Pulsing beats reverberate off the walls from the large DJ booth at the top of the room. It’s on an elevated platform, and a large screen projects illusory flames of fire across the dance floor at intermittent intervals. I grin as I stare up at the ceiling, joining my friends as we lift our arms, jumping in our heels as we try to touch the fiery projection.
We dance for a few songs, gathering some admirers, but there is no one who catches my eye enough to flirt with. I expand my search, scanning the other side of the dance floor for willing victims. “See anyone you like?” Esme inquires, noticing my perusal.
“Not so far, but the night is still young.” I waggle my brows, and she grins, looping her arm through mine. “Let’s go hunting. You definitely need to get laid. It’s practically a rite of passage.”
I roll my eyes, grabbing Pen’s arm as Esme tows me off the dance floor.
“What are we doing?” Penelope asks when Esme stops beside the bar. Shoving her way through to the front, Esme grabs one of the bartenders, shouting an order at him, completely oblivious to the daggers embedding in her back from other thirsty patrons.
“Hunting for prey.” I grin, scouting the guys hanging around the bar.
“I’ll come with,” Pen offers. “I know what you two are like if you are left to your own devices.”
“You can help vet them,” I agree because Pen has a great bullshit radar and she can sniff out an asshole from miles away.
“Don’t you ever feel like you’re missing out?” Esme rejoins us, handing out glasses filled with vodka cranberry.
“Esme.” I caution her with a look. “You promised.”
“I’m not stirring shit, I swear. I’m just curious.”
“Is your issue with Eric or that I’m engaged at twenty-one?” Penelope asks, and I’m guessing they’re having it out whether I lay down rules or not.
“It’s not Eric. I like him, a lot. He’s good to you,” Esme says.
“Then why do you keep busting my balls?” Pen asks in between slurping her drink.
“I just think you’re crazy getting tied down so young. I don’t want to see you making a mistake.”
I know this is coming from a good place, but I also know what’s driving Esme’s concern. “Pen isn’t your sister, and Eric isn’t that cheating asshole she married.”
Pen’s features soften. “I know you’re only worried for me, and I love you for that, but I know what I’m doing. I love Eric. He’s my soul mate, and I know there is no one else for me.”
“Verity thought doucheface was her soul mate too, and look how that ended up. Now she’s a struggling single mother with two small kids. He doesn’t even see them anymore. He’s too busy playing happy family with his new wife and baby son.”
“That sucks for Verity,” Pen says. “And that cockroach is the biggest slimeball to walk the planet, but just because that happened to her doesn’t mean it will happen to me.”
“I know I’m being irrational,” Esme replies, chewing on the corner of her lip. “But I couldn’t forgive myself if I kept my thoughts hidden and then something happened.”
“Nothing will happen,” I interject when I see the crestfallen look on Pen’s face.
The last thing I want is Esme planting doubts in her mind. I get where Esme is coming from, and I know it’s why she’s insistent on playing the field and not getting attached to any guy, but she can’t project her fears and insecurities onto others, because that’s just not fair. “Saskia married Felix when she was twenty-one, and Serena was twenty-three on her wedding day,” I remind her. “It’s not unheard of to marry young.”
“I’m not sure you should use either of your sisters as an example of matrimonial bliss,” Esme replies, flashing a grin at someone over my shoulder.
“You’re probably right.” I doubt Saskia would be happy no matter who she married, and Serena shocked the hell out of me by marrying one of my father’s oldest friends. She kept their relationship a secret from me, which still hurts, and we don’t have much contact these days so I have no clue if she’s happy in her marriage or not. All I know is she got knocked up pretty fast after the wedding and she dotes on my little niece Elisa.
“But neither of them were madly in love with their husbands,” I add, wanting to reassure Pen. I rub her arm and smile. “It’s clear you’re head over heels in love, and Eric is a great guy. He adores you and treats you like a princess. You two are so good together, and if it feels right, that’s all that matters. Do what your heart is telling you to do.”
“Do you really believe that, or are you just saying it to keep the peace?” Esme asks, looking genuinely curious.
“I really believe that.” I tuck a stray piece of my long blonde hair behind one ear before taking another mouthful of my drink.
“I wish I could.” The smile slips off Esme’s face, and a semi-tense silence descends.
“Hey, this is supposed to be a celebration, so no long faces.” Pen nudges both of us in our sides. “You never know, both your soul mates could be in this very room. We should mingle.”
Esme throws one arm around my shoulders and her other around Pen’s. “I’m more in the market for a devil mate,” she jokes. “But you can help.” A mischievous grin appears on her face. “I’ll just go after the ones you reject as unworthy.”
“Lord help us.” Pen shakes her head as I tap out a quick message to Tammy so the others know where we are. “One of these days, that attitude is going to get you in serious trouble.”
“As long as we’re there to bail Esme out, she’s good,” I say, slipping my cell into the small pocket of my black and gold dress.
We walk around with our drinks in our hands, scouting the talent, as we make a full circle of the room, checking out all the options. There is a mix of men here. Old. Young. Hot. Not so hot. A few groups of men whistle and holler as we stroll past, and we stop a couple times, indulging in mild flirtations before moving on. Maybe it’s my mood, but none of the cute guys we meet are doing it for me.
“Oh my God.” Esme slams to a halt, and I spill some of my fresh vodka cranberry on the hardwood floor. “Did you see him?”
“See who?” Pen and I ask in unison.
“Saverio Salerno.” She licks her lips, and her eyes become alive. I can almost see the wheels churning in her head as she plots and plans.
“Should I know who that is?” I’ve never heard of the dude. I follow her line of sight to the back of a tall guy, heading toward the VIP door at the side of the room. He’s wearing a black tailored suit that looks expensive, and his dark hair is cropped quite close to his head. His shoulders are broad, his arms straining the material of his suit jacket, so the guy is obviously ripped.
“He owns this place and a couple of casinos,” she supplies, lowering her voice an octave. “It’s rumored he’s part of the mob.”
Pen and I trade looks. Spotting the excitement on Esme’s face, I already know we’re screwed. “Please don’t tell me you’re interested in pursuing a man like that?”