I follow him through the laughing women and the leering, grinning men. I’m in heels, a tight black skirt, and a white top covered with black lace. I’m showing way more skin than I’m used to, but for some reason, in the low light of the club, I feel like it’s camouflage. I fit in with all the other girls out looking to party, normal girls with normal wants and needs, girls that aren’t battered and bruised. My makeup does a good job of making the worst of my injuries invisible, and the poor lighting does the rest.
Peter steers us to the VIP area. We’re led through a short hall, up a staircase, and onto a balcony that overlooks the dance floor. We’re tucked back in the corner, close enough to the DJ that I can see what he’s spinning, but behind the speakers which means we’re in the quietest part of the whole building. The noise pumps out toward the dancing, twisting, writhing bodies down below.
Balaska is sitting with several men. Bottles of champagne and liquor cover the table. They stand and greet Peter and I’m left off behind them, feeling uncomfortable until a woman steps out from the shadows and pushes a glass into my hand.
“Hello, darling.” Katarin smiles at me. “I didn’t expect you.”
“Peter brought me along. He didn’t mention you’d be here.”
“Strange, that he’d bring you to this.” She gestures at the men as they settle onto the couch. Peter holds up a glass of liquor, toasts Balaska, and tosses it back. “Did he tell you what they’re talking about?”
“I know the basic shape of it.”
“I bet you do,” she murmurs. “Come stand with me.” She moves off to the side and leans against the balcony railing. I sip the champagne, and the bubbles tickle my nose and the alcohol spreads like a warmth in my veins. “This is what I do when my husband brings business to the club. I stand here, smile, look pretty, drink far too much, and try to pretend like I’m happy. How am I doing?” She flashes me an easy smile and I can almost believe she means it.
“You’re good at all of those things. Especially the looking pretty part.” She laughs and flips her hair back dramatically. I’m not kidding though—Katarin is a knockout in a simple burgundy dress and enough jewelry to bribe an entire police precinct.
“Really, Adrienne, why did Peter bring you tonight?”
I shrug slightly, feeling uncomfortable, but I might as well get this conversation over with. “I’m working for him.”
“Working for him? You?” Her eyebrows raise. “I find that hard to imagine.”
“And why’s that?”
“Don’t get angry, darling, it’s only that you’re much too nice.”
“You don’t know me.”
“No, perhaps not.” She tilts her head like she’s reconsidering an opinion. “It is only that Peter doesn’t seem like the kind of man to keep wounded puppies around.”
I take a breath and finish my champagne. “Maybe that’s why I’m here. I’m tired of being a wounded puppy. Maybe I’m trying to be strong for once in my life.”
“Interesting.” She taps a fingernail against her glass and raises it. “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, yes? That’s the saying? To that then.” She drinks.
I stand and chat with Katarin for a little while longer and have a second glass of champagne as Peter talks to the men. I watch him speaking directly with Balaska and I know they’re talking about me and Reina and the deal. I catch Balaska’s eyes more than one: he’s a slim, austere, intense man with a stare that makes me want to burst into flames. After a while, Peter shakes his hand and comes over. “We’re finished,” he says in my ear, then to Katarin, “It was lovely seeing you.”
“Likewise, I suppose. You’re keeping this one out of trouble, yes?” She gestures toward me.
“I’m not sure I could do that if I tried.” He steers me from the group, back out the door, down the stairs, and into the main section of the club.
“What happened back there?”
“Balaska isn’t happy about your involvement.” Peter’s hand on my lower back sends a thrill deep into my core. I try to ignore it, but whenever he gets this close, it’s like my pulse doubles and I can’t think straight. We pause on the far side of the club near the door in the shadows behind a large group of single girls doing shots and laughing. “He thinks you’re a liability.”
“Did you explain to him why I’m not?”
“I told him it doesn’t matter, so long as we get the deal done.”
I nod and look away. “You never did tell me what the deal actually is, you know.”
He moves closer, his hand lingering on my hip. When I try to pull away, he stops me, staring into my eyes. “Don’t move. You’re my girl for tonight. Think of this like hiding in plain sight. There are people watching, Adrienne. People from Balaska’s family and from a dozen other families. We need to be careful.” I shiver as he grips me tighter and moves down, his big body controlling mine. His lips brush my neck and move to my cheek like he’s kissing me, but instead, he speaks. “It’s all about heroin, my darling. The French Connection. Good, pure heroin in exchange for high quality marijuana. That’s the deal we’re trying to work out.”
“That’s it? This is about drugs?”
“Drugs and money and building a new international alliance. The Russians left a vacuum and the Florakis family isn’t here to make demands anymore. That means Balaska thinks he can make a play for power and choose his own partners. Controlling the heroin trade is the first step.”
“Why you? Why not send someone from his own family to do all this?”