She leaned against the wall and quickly unsnapped a silver clutch. She began to retouch her red lipstick. “You’ll get to marry who you want. You know that?” I heard the accusatory tone. The resentment. The anger my little sister had bottled up in her voice.
She dabbed the corners of her eyes to remove the smudged mascara before she snapped the clutch shut.
“We’ll talk later. Your guests are waiting.” I nudged here to re-enter the party. “It’s going to work out.”
She plastered a wide smile on her face. “Is this better?” She spun on her five-inch heels and stormed out of the hallway.
By the time I shook enough hands to make it to a spot on the terrace, Parker was on his second drink.
“What happened to you?” he asked.
“I got cornered a few times,” I explained, taking the bourbon from him.
It was quieter outside. The bass from the band vibrated, but at least I could hear myself think. My eyes traveled the distance of the yard. The fence that bordered the property felt like a zoo enclosure. We were New Orleans’s most exotic mafia families confined in one space. The Castilles had installed a pool, along with a cabana house.
I glanced over my shoulder. I saw my mother parting the crowd and headed for the terrace.
“I’ll be back,” I explained to Parker, as I hopped over the stone railing and strolled toward the cabana.
There were floating candles in the pool as well as some kind of exotic flower. I knew Seraphina hadn’t chosen a single element of the party. It was all Mrs. Castille.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and kept walking. I made it to the pool house. I slung back the bourbon and left the glass on a table. I opened the door and closed it behind me.
I didn’t expect the sudden scream when I stepped inside.
My hands rose in the air. “Hey, just another party guest. Didn’t mean to scare you.” There was probably a couple in here fucking. But as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized there was only one person here.
One beautiful, alluring scared person.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t think anyone else would come out here. It seemed deserted.”
She stepped out from behind a stack of pool furniture. I almost staggered. I was caught off guard. She had the body of a goddess, dressed in a tight black cocktail dress. Curves. Long slender legs. Elegant features I swore I’d only witnessed in paintings.
“I’m Knight Corban.” I extended my hand.
She smiled. “Kennedy Martin.”
Her hand fit in mine like a glove. Soft. Warm. Tender. I wanted to thread my fingers through hers and pull her closer. Close enough to study her eyes. What color were they? It was too damn dark in here.
The door immediately flew open.
“Miss Martin?” A broad-shouldered man hurried next to Kennedy. His expression was serious as he discovered she was no longer alone. I dropped Kennedy’s hand.
I realized he had brandished a gun, and it was only a few feet from my chest.
“What the hell are you doing with that?” I glared at him. “Put it down. This is a weapons-free event.”
“Not for security,” he argued.
“I see.” I nodded. “Detail for Ms. Martin?”
Kennedy groaned. “Kimble, I’m fine. Put the gun away. Now.”
The bodyguard was reluctant to return the weapon to its holster.
“I insist.” I nodded at him. “I don’t think the Castilles would be happy if gunshots ruined their party. They take offense to those kinds of rules being broken.”
The bodyguard checked the safety, before tucking the gun under his jacket.
“Thank you.” I waited for him to leave, but he remained next to us. “That’s all.” I pointed to the door.
Still nothing.
“You can go, Kimble. I’m fine. Just chatting with a new friend.” Kennedy smiled. Now that the door was open and an outside light shone through, I thought I caught glimpses of emeralds in her eyes. Fuck. She was breathtaking. Light pink lips. High cheekbones. Her hair was swept off her shoulders and fasted in a rhinestone clip. It was honey blond with streaks of auburn.
Her bodyguard didn’t want to leave her. It could have been the black dress she wore. No man would want to walk away from her.
“I’ll be outside. Not far,” he added. He ducked on his way out. He was a damn giant.
“Sorry about that. He’s only following orders.”
She didn’t have to explain to me how it worked.
“Why are you out here by yourself?” I asked. “Not having a good time at the party?”
“It’s a long story.” She sighed.
I walked to the wet bar. “I like long stories.” It was a hell of a lie. I barely had patience to read texts. But if this girl had something to say, I wanted to hear it.
I rummaged through the liquor cabinet and revealed a bottle of vodka. “Drink?” I offered.
Kennedy nodded. “Yes, please.”
I poured one for each of us and sat on the edge of the chaise, allowing room for her body to slide next to mine.
“Are you friends with the Castilles?” I asked. I’d never seen her before. I’d remember legs like hers. When she sat the hem of the black dress rose along the tops of her thighs. I wondered if she was the kind of girl who ran miles with a personal trainer to have a body like that. Or was she naturally a knockout.
She shook her head. “No. Or yes? I’m not sure.”
I chuckled. “What does that mean?”
She blushed, pressing the glass to her lips. Fuck. They were full and lush. “It means I moved to New Orleans a few weeks ago. I don’t know anyone. I’ve met a few people, so I guess that’s not entirely true, but not anyone here. My father isn’t feeling well tonight, or he would have been here.
