It wasn’t Silas, but Andre, his assistant, who— wow —looked great. His suit was elegant and hung just right on his lean frame, and the contrast of his white dress shirt against his dark skin was enticing. Above his suit, he wore a grin like the Cheshire Cat.
“Hello again,” I said.
“Would you like me to track him down for you?”
He didn’t even bother with Silas’s name. And what was up with his shit-eating grin?
I made a face. “No, it’s fine. I’m sure he’s busy.” I didn’t come to see Silas, I reminded myself, squashing the voice in me that was eager for that to happen.
“He is busy, but I think he’d make time for you. He’s mentioned you more than once this week.”
Then he was gone, disappearing through the crowd. I paused when I saw a familiar face among the guests. His dark eyes evaluated me, and his head tilted slightly, as if intrigued. The girl on his arm followed his gaze, and then they were moving my direction.
“Joseph,” I said. I hadn’t seen him since he’d turned the club over months ago. “How’ve you been?”
His focus shifted to his girlfriend. “Great.”
I’d heard she was young, but good God, the blonde girl looked barely legal. Such an odd fit with Joseph, who was closing in on forty, but the rumor mill at the club said they were hopelessly in love with each other.
“You?” Joseph asked it wearing a muted version of the smile that Andre had. It made me uneasy.
“I’m fine.” I took a sip of my wine so I could avoid his dominating stare. I’d always been on the knife’s edge around him. He seemed too perceptive, and I was careful not to give anything away. Since he didn’t appear to want to introduce me . . . “Hi. I’m Regan,” I said to the girl. “I work at the wine club Joseph used to—”
“I know who you are.” A blank look filled her expression, and it struck me as practiced. Oh, this girl knew about his club, and didn’t seem all that comfortable with it, either. “I’m Noemi.”
“We’re trying to find some new art for our living room,” Joseph announced. “Is that why you’re here? To look at the art ?”
I shifted on my heels, annoyed at the subtext, but wouldn’t rise to the bait. “Sure, yeah.”
“How’d the tattoo come out?”
“Great. Thanks for recommending him.”
Noemi gave a warm smile. “Joseph’s been gloating all week.”
“What?” I asked, totally confused.
Joseph gave her a look, but she brushed it off. “Putting you and Silas together. He loves playing matchmaker.”
My muscles locked up. “We’re not together.” I spat it out, and dropped my voice low. I accused Joseph with my glare. “What the hell, he told you we fucked around?”
Her expression flooded with surprise, and Joseph snickered. “No, he didn’t.” His tone was smug. “But he did call me and ask for your number.”
Jesus, I’d stepped right into that one. I took another sip of the wine, and promptly set it on a tray, wanting it gone. No more screw-ups tonight. This information dropped me in uncertain territory, because now I wanted to know the result of Joseph’s conversation. Had Joseph given it to him, and Silas had chosen not to call?
“I didn’t,” Joseph continued. “I figured you would have done it if you wanted him to have it.”
Coming up with an appropriate response was impossible. Plus, why the fuck was there a tinge of disappointment? Hadn’t I said I was going to steer clear of Silas after tonight? Yet I’d put on my sexiest demi-cup bra and matching lace panties because I wanted to leave my options open. The plan was to get to Roland and then disappear before the favor came calling, but . . . plans could always change.
There was movement in the corner of my peripheral vision, too large to be anyone but him. I steeled my expression and turned to face Silas.
Nope, still not completely prepared. His ice blue eyes looked thrilled as his gaze washed over me, and the room felt uncomfortably
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