The soft rock song excited the room. He wouldn't stand here and share her with a room full of customers. Turning away, he strode over to the bar and searched under the counter until he found a notepad and pen.
He wrote one word and folded the paper. Taking out his cell, he texted Mac to meet him.
Within two minutes, his manager stood in front of him. He turned his head to keep their conversation private.
"I want this note and a bottle of Onus One delivered to the singer the moment she walks off stage." He straightened his shoulders. "Make sure she comes upstairs."
Mac dipped his chin. "Of course, Mr. Stone."
He turned toward the stage, took in the high coming off the singer. "What's her name?"
"Iliana." Mac caught his silent question. "Just Iliana."
He walked over to his door, keyed in the code, and slipped out of the room. Going straight to his office, he turned on the widescreen on the wall and sat behind his desk. Using the remote, he found the camera for the stage and enlarged it.
Iliana sang straight to him. He removed one of the cigars from the box, clipped off the end, and lit it, leaning back in his chair and propping his boots on the corner of the desk.
Puffing away, the vision in front of him blurred and he let her voice wash over him. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the words. He knew shit-all about music but what she could do with her voice stroked him until his cock hardened and he was determined to have her.
He opened his eyes, set his cigar to the side, and called Two-crow. He and Two-crow went back far enough, they claimed to be family. Along with Quint, Will, and Mark.
"Hello?" said Two-crow.
"It's Anders."
"What's up?"
He gazed at the woman on the screen. "I need some info."
"Business on a Friday night at ten thirty, and you don't have a woman in your bed. It must be serious."
"I need you to find whatever you can on a woman named Iliana." He stared at the screen. "Five feet seven inches. About one hundred and thirty-five pounds. Blonde hair—natural. Blue eyes."
"Last name?"
"There isn't one, yet. She's a singer at the Lair tonight."
"Let me Google." Two-crow paused. "Which you can do yourself or ask your manager who booked her for the Lair to do for you."
"Shouldn't have to when I have you." He leaned back.
He never watched television, listened to the radio, or learned about the internet. It wasn't needed when he had other people to do the work for him.
Iliana finished the song. After the cheers and clapping faded, she excused herself for a ten-minute break. Knowing when she returned to the stage, she'd only have thirty minutes left of her show, he stood from the chair and flipped on the lights to the office.
"Okay, her last name is Teel. She was born in Missoula," said Two-crow. "She's a local singer, popular from the looks of it. There's no tour, only local gigs in the Pacific Northwest and inner PNW."
"Age?" he asked.
"Twenty-five."
"Family?"
"That'll take me longer to find out," said Two-crow.
"Go ahead and send me the full report when you get it. Thanks, Two-crow." He disconnected the call, shut the door to his office behind him, and walked down the hallway.
Women caught his interest every night, but he'd never wanted to know more about them than if they were willing to have sex. Despite his business and position, he had nothing to give a woman.
He'd spent his thirties bagging every woman that caught his eye and finding out they wanted an emotional connection that he found impossible. Now at forty-five years old, he'd become pickier. He wasn't looking for a relationship and preferred casually hooking up and spending all his energy on the Lair.
Iliana's voice seduced him. He wanted to see where the feelings she brought out in him would go.
