Her walls gave a brief creak. No.
“As if I don’t have enough enemies to deal with!”
“I will take care of this Juliette wench.” Cress pulled a knife, leapt to her feet, and charged towards the window. “Violet, make a hole. I shall jump over to the Capulet balcony and carve out her eyes, so she has nothing to peep with.”
“Violet, no. And Cress…” I pointed and gave her my most firm don’t you fucking dare stare. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. We’ll get Audrina back, then Jessica will back off, and Juliette won’t have anything to obsess over.”
But even as the words left my lips, I felt a buzz roll over my skin.
Goddamnit, now I was lying to myself. Something told me that Juliette was going to be a very big thorn in my side for a long time.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
San Francisco had some of the oldest exclusive sports clubs in the entire country, but none were older or more exclusive than the Clarendon Club. Hidden away in the Marina district behind a nine-foot hedge of arborvitae and sheltered from above by towering old redwoods, the Clarendon managed to find room in the middle of the city for a nine-hole golf course, a stunning Japanese tea garden, tennis and squash courts, a swimming pool, as well as a luxurious bar and restaurant.
I hated the place. As beautiful as the long emerald-green lawns and the old ivy-covered brick buildings were, for me, I could never get used to the almost-sickening stench of elitism that wafted around the place. Memberships were expensive, and, maddingly, only men could hold them. Women were allowed in as guests of members only.
It might be one of the long list of reasons Vincent’s parents hated me. Gordon was a lifelong member, and the Andresanos dined there every Friday night. The first time they invited us to join them for dinner, I told Delilah quite honestly that the idea of propping up such an oppressive, sexist tool of the patriarchy made me want to vomit. Her mouth had puckered up in disapproval so much it looked like my dog Rusty’s butthole. I made the mistake of whispering that to Vincent, who had laughed.
We already had a way in. Martina had come through with an instant membership for Prince Donovan, and requested a booking for dinner for him, a female guest, and three members of his security team. As soon as the club secretary heard the word “prince,” the request was instantly granted, even though the Clarendon was already fully booked for dinner.
Cecil worked his magic, putting Donovan in a classic black tux, Italian shoes, and a white shirt so crisp I thought it might cut me if I got too close. He scraped his long black hair up in a tight topknot, pulling attention to his high cheekbones and the hard line of his masculine jaw. Impossibly, the suit made him look taller and his muscular shoulders broader, showing off a hint of his bulging biceps underneath the jacket and sculpting his long, powerful legs.
It was just a tux, I thought, staring at him. I’d seen so many men wearing almost exactly the same thing. But Donovan looked like a god.
This time, though, I almost felt comfortable standing next to him. Cecil had produced a shimmering silk dress in a stunning shade of antique gold-green for me, and it was so beautiful it made me want to cry. The dress had thin straps and a delicate, plunging cowl neckline that echoed the curve of my boobs. The light-as-air fabric hugged my waist and gathered at my left hip, falling around my curves to give me a seductive mermaid shape. I’d never felt more beautiful in my entire life.
After turning Nate and Eryk’s black battle leathers into boxy black suits complete with earpieces and bulges where guns would normally go, Cecil turned his attention to Cress. I expected her to put up a fight at having to pose as my security guard, but strangely, she seemed to enjoy the idea of it. At first, Cecil put her in a sharply tailored black suit with a skinny black tie. She still looked too sexy, so he altered the tailoring, broadening the shoulders with padding and loosening the fabric around her waist, thickening her into more of a square shape, hoping to make her seem a little more frumpy. Finally, huffing with annoyance that she still looked too sexy, he used a mascara wand to darken the tiny hairs on her upper lip and thicken her brows a little.
“That’s the best I can do.” Cecil clip-clopped back to the bar, wiping his brow.
Instead of being annoyed that she looked like Miss Congeniality pre-makeover, Cress, for once, seemed delighted. She was already getting into her assigned role as my security guard, insisting on watching me while I got dressed, zipping me up, carefully adjusting the fabric around my neckline, and strapping a sheath on my thigh so I could carry a couple of daggers with me, fussing about until Donovan snapped that we needed to leave—we were running out of time. We only had an hour before the centaur’s summit was due to start.
We hustled into the elevator. Violet gave us a little squeeze, rubbing her floorboards together so they squeaked—her way of expressing her excitement. Mom and Dad are going to a ball, and they look beautiful.
Because communication was important—and because I felt like there was something I was missing, and I hoped I could talk it out—I kept up a steady monologue on everything I knew about the club. “The Clarendon has an automatic security gate,” I explained as we made our way down to the parking garage. “Members get an electronic key so they can drive straight in. First-timers need to clear security, so we’ll have to stop at the gate, announce ourselves, wait for a guard to inspect us, then they will let us in.”
Cress, taking her job far too seriously, was standing a little too close to me in the elevator, her hands loose and empty, ready to punch someone. “Are there further security personnel inside?”
“Yes, but they’re discrete. They know all the member’s faces, so they’ll pay extra attention to us. We’ll have to play our parts until we can get into the dining room and find a couple of centaurs to follow to their portal.” I glanced up at Donovan. “That will be easy, right?”
He nodded, subtly maneuvering himself next to me so he could butt Cress aside with his hip. “They are distinctive looking, even wearing their human glamor. Thick hair, large noses.”
“Big asses,” Cecil said from near my feet. “They smell like woodchips and leather. And money.”
The elevator dinged in the parking garage, and we exited, Donovan in the lead, and me, swinging my hips in my silver Louboutins next to him. Cress shadowed me closely. We walked to the limo and piled into the back.
That’s when the first problem hit. I looked around the limo and frowned. “Who’s driving?”
Everyone stared back at me.
I looked at Cecil.
“Well, I can’t do it. I’m a dog.”
“You’ve driven before.”
“That’s when no one was going to be looking in the driver’s seat, you moron. Do you want the guard to tap on the driver’s window and see a Labrador at the wheel? Or a cute baby smoking a cigarette?”
I pointed. “No more smoking, Cecil. But you have a good point. Nate, Eryk?”
“I’m sorry, Chosen,” Nate said. “We have not learned how to drive these carriages yet.”
Cress started to get up. “I will drive.”
“You will not,” Donovan growled. “You do not know how either. I know how you ride horses, Cress. I wish to get to this club alive and in one piece.”
I sighed. “I’m going to have to drive, aren’t I?”
“We will call someone.”
“There’s no time, Donovan. We have to get there now.” I climbed out the back and got into the driver’s seat. Cress tried to follow me—Donovan yanked her back and shoved her into the backseat.
I groaned. “Why do the best laid plans get tripped up by the smallest things? Donovan, you can’t sit with me. I’ll have to swap with one of the others when we get to the gate. The security will get suspicious if they see me driving.”
“Then Eryk will sit next to you.” He opened the passenger door, and Eryk obediently got in.
