“You need to tell His Majesty that we have a different plan. We’re going to get this taken care of.” Christos motions for me to walk toward my dad’s chambers.
I shake my head. “I can’t. I have to do this.”
“No, you don’t,” he argues.
Annoyance rises through me. “Yes, I fucking do. I was commanded to. I didn’t offer or volunteer. The club needs someone to blame, and it’s my job to find them. Now, if you excuse me, I have work to do.”
Christos grabs my arm. “I can do it for you.”
As much as I want him to, I know better. It really does have to be me.
“You can’t.”
“Astéri mou—”
“Christos! I said I had to do it. Now move.” I shove past him and head toward the stairs.
I don’t look back.
15
The Task
Idon’tevenknowwhere to begin. I can’t exactly frame a man without any drugs or a plan. I should just leave and think things through, but I might chicken out if I do.
“Mamacita, Christos told me your assignment.” Esteban leans his elbow on the bar next to me, playing with my blond wig with his free hand. “I owe you a favor, so here you go. You need to slip the baggy into someone’s pocket. Make sure they’re alone here. Someone wealthy. Maybe even one of those pinche celebrities over at the table service.”
I stare at the clear baggy with heart-shaped papers inside. Gingerly picking it up from the bar, I frown as I inspect them. “This is so wrong.”
“Could be worse. They’ll most likely be able to buy their way out of trouble. Bad press won’t fuck with them. Not if you pick the right one.” Esteban flicks his finger in the direction of the booths lining the walls, pointing out a blond guy surrounded by beautiful women. “I’m pretty sure that pendejo has a wife and kids at home.”
“Who probably needs him. Look at how he keeps space between him and the women. This is for publicity.” I know better than to trust everything I read in the tabloids, and that actor does whatever he’s told. I know this because he asks for the club photographer, who always snaps pictures for him to release.
“Are you going to have an excuse for everyone? I know you don’t want to do this, but I don’t want to think about the consequences you’ll have to face if you don’t. What about that guy over there?” Esteban tilts his head, motioning to a man in a designer suit sitting alone at the end of the bar, cradling a tumbler of whiskey. “He doesn’t look like he has any business being here.”
I frown, staring in the direction of the man. This should be easy. When it comes to me or someone else, I should choose myself. I have chosen myself dozens of times before. I don’t know what my hang-up is. “No one has business being here.”
“Stacia,” he says, my name dripping with disappointment coming from his mouth. “I thought you had what it took. You were so tough at my office.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not going to work. I don’t suffer from a fragile ego.”
He chuckles and slides his arm around my waist. “Then why don’t you just let Christos do it and pretend it was you.”
Narrowing my eyes, I glare at him. “I don’t need his fucking help.”
“Then take mine. What I have is exactly what you need. They’re excellent quality, so if something happens, and whoever we target as his victim accidentally takes them, the chances of them hurting her are pretty low.” Esteban scoops up the baggy of heart-shaped drugs again and sets it in my palm. “Just walk by him and stick them in his jacket pocket.”
I mess with my wig. “Then what? Putting them in his pocket isn’t going to do much.”
Esteban wags his eyebrows. “What if you took him a drink and said it belonged to that group? Then I will take them a drink from him.”
I don’t know how I feel about how easily Esteban comes up with this plan. I should be thankful, though. I didn’t even really know where to begin. Why do I feel so bad about it?
“I don’t know.” I twist my lips to the side. “We don’t know anything about him.”
“And it’s best to keep it that way. You need to harden yourself, or else you’ll be riddled with guilt forever. Think about yourself. That guy...you know he’ll get off easy. Just look at him. The rich never suffer the same consequences.” Esteban motions for Kitty, and she greets us with a smile. “I’m going to need a round of mixed drinks for the ladies over there. And another whiskey for my girl here.”
I shift in my seat, hiding my face. I know that Kitty probably knows that I’m not missing, but I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself. She shouldn’t be put in this position.