Iris. (Den of Mercenaries Book 7) Page 8

  “I did,” Canina answered, briefly turning to look at the governor who was watching them all intently. Satisfied she had his attention, she turned up the flirtation. “But I hope I’m not leaving that way.”

  Iris deserved, at the very least, some sort of reward for being able to sit there with a straight face. While the logical side of her knew exactly what Synek was doing—getting close to her to extract information—the other side didn’t care.

  She hated the idea of him flirting with someone else right in front of her even if he hadn’t done much of the talking at all.

  To get her thoughts off them—and so she wouldn’t react and blow the job before they’d even gotten started—Iris searched the room again for the governor and found him at his table. He was still staring over at them, though the man on his right was trying to engage him in conversation.

  His brows were pinched. His mouth set in a mulish line. He looked as if he was seconds away from walking over and dragging Synek out the hard way.

  Iris would have paid to see him try.

  But while the anger in his eyes amused her, she wasn’t prepared for him to look directly at her. She blinked and fought every urge in her body not to look away.

  She didn’t turn and let her hair curtain her face so as not to be seen.

  There was no more being invisible.

  She wanted him to know who, in the end, was responsible for his downfall.

  She wanted him to remember her face.

  So when his gaze came to her and lingered, she didn’t blink. She didn’t turn.

  Iris smiled.

  Rich people were dull.

  If they weren’t discussing how much money they’d made in the previous quarter, they were talking about how much someone else made. Even as boring as she found it all, Iris listened, knowing that anything they might say could prove useful.

  Only half-listening to the conversations around her allowed her to watch Spader. He was careful, always the politician, making sure his worsening mood didn’t reflect on his face, but no one seated at his table paid nearly as close attention to him as Iris was.

  She saw the imperceptible frowns—the way his fingers would tighten around the stem of his glass whenever Synek made Canina laugh. Not that there was anything to really be jealous of.

  Canina was playing her own game. It was obvious because whenever she laughed, she always glanced in his direction to make sure that he had heard her as well.

  The problem with having your mistress and your wife in the same room.

  But it wasn’t just Iris who had the governor in their sights. His wife, Dorothy, noticed his behavior as well, and though she kept a straight face, there was only so often her glass of champagne could be refilled.

  Now on her fifth drink, she glared at the empty glass before excusing herself from the table. The governor didn’t seem to notice.

  This was her chance.

  Iris readied to do the same, but before she could rise from her seat, Synek caught her wrist, effectively preventing her from leaving. For ten minutes, he had appeared engrossed in his conversation with Canina, yet the second she moved an inch, he noticed.

  She would not smile at that.

  “Powder room,” she said, though she made sure to add a touch more bitterness to her tone.

  They all had their roles to play.

  He nodded once and reluctantly let her go.

  Iris, trying to not make it appear as if she was in a rush, hurried as quickly as she could behind Dorothy, just spotting the tail of her dress as she slipped into the restroom.

  The powder room was as grand as the rest of the mansion with two comfy armchairs sitting in an area off to the right, as well as scented soaps and decadent towels bundled in baskets along the back of the sink counter.

  Two of the stall doors were closed and as she paused near the door, Iris heard the almost imperceptible sound of crying coming from one of them right before that person snorted. It was a distinct sort of sound, one she had heard often inside the walls of the Wraiths compound.

  She could almost remember the smell of that white powder.

  If she was forced to be married to a man like Spader, she might have resorted to cocaine too.

  Thankfully, the attendant stood outside the room’s door, making it less awkward for Iris to stand near the sink with the water running to bide her time. Only once the noisy latch of the door came undone did she actually start her own show.

  When she was eleven, her mother had taught her how to cry on demand. She never thought she would have a use for that ability—as she had no plans of deceiving anyone to get what she wanted then—but now she was glad for her mother’s unorthodox teachings.

  It made what she needed to do that much easier.

  She thought of her saddest memory, conjured the image in her head, and waited until the tears had built in her eyes before she put her phone to her ear and pretended to have a conversation. “Mother? You can’t expect me to go through with this. You can’t expect me to marry him!”

  Out the corner of her eye, she could see Dorothy pause before exiting the stall and walking over to the sink. But from the way she took her time turning the water on and sticking her hands beneath, she was listening.

  “Of course not,” Iris said. Carrying on the fake conversation, she was imagining what Dorothy’s mother must have told her all those years ago. “But he’s flirting with some … some whore right in front of me! You can’t expect me to smile when he blatantly does that, do you?”

  Her voice broke a little at the end for effect, but a part of her did feel bad knowing this was a reality for Dorothy. That she had to play a part everyday of her life that she might not have wanted.

  “Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow before brunch … yes, okay. I love you. Good night.”

  Iris tucked the phone back into her clutch, turning and faking surprise at the sight of Dorothy still standing there. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize someone was in here.”

  Grabbing a cloth from the display in front of them, Iris dabbed at her eyes, dragging on the moment for as long as she could. Dorothy had to make the first move. If she didn’t, it would be suspicious of her to know about an affair that shouldn’t have been so obvious.

  Iris was almost afraid she wouldn’t get anything out of her as she turned for the door until her voice rang out.

  “Find something that makes you feel a bit better.”

  “Sorry?” Iris asked as she turned, playing up her surprise at being addressed.

  “It’ll make it more bearable. Believe me. I was as willful as you are when I first married my husband.” She shook her head as if she regretted that day the most in her life. “I yelled, I threatened, I threw things, but none of that mattered in the end. He’s to be your husband,” she mimicked in a high voice, her words only slurring the slightest bit. “You do what you have to do for this family. My mother told me the benefits would outweigh everything else.”

  Money in exchange for her silence.

  Jewels for forgiveness.

  Cars and houses and a wardrobe for her willful obedience.

  Iris couldn’t imagine the toll it must take to accept trinkets and bobbles in place of respect.

  “Why did you stay with him?” she asked, both because she wanted answers and because she was genuinely curious.

  “Powerful men don’t have to be good people,” she said with a sort of dead expression, as if those words had been repeated to her over and over again. “They just need to be powerful.”

  Which could only mean Spader was far more powerful than she thought because while he might have only popped up on her radar years ago after what happened to her father, he and Dorothy had been married for two decades.

  How much power could he have possessed back then?

  “There’s no chance he’ll stop?” Iris asked, wondering if the woman would actually stick around that long.

  But at the question, Dorothy seemed to get some life back into her. Now, she smile
d. “He will,” she said. “Soon. In the meantime, I can’t possibly see what he wants in that little tart who’s been flirting with your fiancé all evening. But I guess it isn’t her mind they’re interested in. Remember that. I suspect if my Michael wanted to stop seeing her”—the first time she had ever actually said his name—“then I wouldn’t have needed to destroy his precious Monet painting.”

  The sound of a flushing toilet startled them both. Dorothy seemed to realize just how much she’d said during their talk and flushed, clearing her throat as she turned back to the mirror.

  The woman who stepped out wasn’t wearing a dress, rather a black pencil skirt and a top that doubled as lingerie beneath a camel-colored blazer. Her blond hair was styled into a pixie cut, and she was as dainty as her heels were tall.

  “Oh, Kava, I thought you were someone else,” Dorothy said as the other woman smiled apologetically and came over to the sink to wash her hands.

  “Sorry to frighten you,” the other woman said pleasantly while she finished drying her hands. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

  “I’ve told you you’re not working tonight,” Dorothy admonished. “Eat and drink and be happy. You deserve it after everything you’re doing for me.”

  Kava, if Iris had to guess, worked for Dorothy—an assistant of some sort.

  Funny that she hadn’t known the woman had an assistant before tonight.

  “I’m sorry, dear, what was your name?”

  Iris replied as both pair of eyes came back to her. “Iris.”

  “Lovely to meet you, Iris. I’m Dorothy, and this is my assistant, Kava. Let us walk you back to your table.”

  This was going better than she ever expected.

  As they entered the ballroom, Iris immediately searched for Synek in the sea of faces, finding him exactly where she had left him. Though now, it wasn’t just Canina he was speaking to.

  The governor was at her table.

  Before now, Iris had never thought it was possible for time to slow down, but every step she took seemed to take longer than the last. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears. Feel the tremor in her fingers.

  She was amazed she hadn’t alarmed the women walking to the left of her, considering how tight her body suddenly felt.

  They were still talking by the time Iris returned to her seat, though her gaze was firmly trained on the man she hated the most in the world. She couldn’t even hear what they were saying. She only saw the way the governor’s mouth moved as he spoke. The cheer in his face as he briefly rested a hand on Canina’s shoulder, his warning clear.

  At least, that was all she saw before Synek was suddenly there, and as he always did when he kissed her, he cupped her face, demanding her attention be solely on him before he kissed her. It was soft, languid.

  Comforting.

  “Take a breath,” he said as he pulled away, uncaring that all eyes were on them now.

  For a moment, all she could see was him—the concern on his face, the unmistakable knowledge that she had nothing to fear with him there.

  She was the most powerful person in the room, he’d said. And he made damn sure she knew it.

  “Mrs. Spader,” Canina spoke up in a sickly sweet voice as she got to her feet. “What a lovely dress you’re wearing. I think my mother has that exact color.”

  Iris smiled at Synek in thanks before swallowing back her anxiety and facing the reason they were there again.

  She had been momentarily forgotten as Dorothy hardly acknowledged Canina at all as she slipped a hand around her husband’s arm.

  “Dear, I was just telling my friend, Iris, about the brunch I’m hosting this weekend. I’m sure it won’t be a problem if she attends?”

  Iris did her best not to react to that news since she didn’t know what the woman was talking about. But judging from the way Canina turned her glare to Iris briefly, there was more here than she knew.

  And somehow, the governor was caught right in the middle.

  Spader’s attention shifted from Canina as he zeroed in on Iris. His expression was cool when he looked at Synek’s arm around her—it seemed he was no longer worried about Syn encroaching on his territory—but when he faced Iris, interest lit up his face.

  It was disgusting how he could stand there, blatantly eyeing another woman as if his wife wasn’t standing right beside him.

  “Of course,” he said. “I don’t see why not.”

  This was good.

  Not because the governor was sketchy and seemed to be far too interested in her, but this meant she would be able to get inside their home without drawing attention to herself.

  “I’d be delighted,” Iris said, directing her answer to Dorothy.

  “I suppose my invitation was lost in the mail?” Canina asked, making Iris wonder whether they ran in the same circles.

  There was no other reason for her to even ask that, considering who she was. Yet she did.

  And judging from the challenging expression on her face, Canina actually expected an answer as well.

  Dorothy lowered her voice so only they could hear. “It probably wound up in the trash where you belong.”

  Iris choked back a laugh, though it sounded more like she was gasping in surprise. Synek managed to keep a straight face.

  Furious, Canina turned to the governor. “Are you going to let her talk to me like this?”

  Unlike his wife, she wasn’t able to keep her voice as low and controlled.

  Now, the governor lost whatever good humor he’d possessed moments prior.

  Iris wasn’t sure if he could feel the way people were perking up, their gazes shifting to them, but whatever it was, she finally got a peek at the man beneath the mask.

  Before he could utter a response, Canina turned on her heel, grabbing her purse from the table—not caring that she knocked over a glass on the table and brought more attention to them—and left the room without looking back.

  Canina’s outburst was loud enough to draw the room’s attention to them.

  Dorothy looked smug as she turned and walked away, Kava trailing behind her. The governor’s face mottled with red before he cleared his throat, gave them a nod, and followed her.

  Iris was doing everything in her power not to smile.

  Too easy.

  They were making it too easy.

  Chapter 5

  It only took leaving the mansion and being alone with Synek in the dark confines of the R8 to turn her night around.

  He was quiet, had been ever since he’d slid behind the wheel, but his silence drew her to him even more. It was the way his hand had slipped lower on her waist as they left—how she could feel his entire energy change once they drove off.

  Work was done for the night; that much she could guess in the relaxed lines of his body as he drove with one hand on the wheel and the other loosely wrapped around the gearshift.

  He’d abandoned his suit jacket closer to the end of the night and rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. His dark hair was messy again, the strands as unruly as the man who wore them, and she could just see the cigarette newly tucked behind his ear.

  Maybe she was impressed by how easily he had controlled the room when they were at the fundraiser, or maybe it was because he made a right sexy sight as he lazily drove them back to the brownstone, but whatever reason, her complete focus was on him.

  Iris toed her heels off as she unsnapped her seat belt and turned in her seat. She could have smiled with how quickly his attention diverted to her, though he hadn’t taken his eyes off the road. She could see it in the way his hand tightened around the steering wheel and the slight shift that had him turning in her direction.

  But it wasn’t until she was stretching her leg across their seats that he finally reacted—as if he’d been waiting out some internal battle until he couldn’t help himself anymore.

  He lifted one hand to circle his fingers around her ankle and continued up, pushing the skirt of her dress back until her lower half was
nearly exposed.

  It was ridiculous how easily he made her heart trip over itself when the only thing he’d done was shift his fingers from her knee to her inner thigh, lightly tracing a circle over her flesh.

  She was no longer thinking about the governor or the night they’d spent sizing up their opponent. The only thing Iris was thinking about was Synek and everything she wanted to do with him.

  “Do you have to go in?” she asked, wondering if he would have to report back to the Kingmaker or someone about what had happened tonight.

  She knew this job with the governor was time sensitive.

  “Even if I did,” he said, gaze drifting to her as he stopped at a red light, “nothing would make me walk away from you right now.”

  Synek just had a way with words.

  And now that she could see his eyes, she could see the way his pupils dilated, leaving nothing but darkness. A darkness that called to her own and made her crave bad things with him.

  He tapped the inside of her thigh, urging her to spread her legs wider for him, allowing him an unobstructed view of the juncture of her thighs and everything her dress hid. His fingers drifted higher again until his fingers swept over the lace she wore, the sound he made a mixture of pleasure and annoyance.

  “These are in my way,” he whispered.

  A statement as much as an unspoken demand for her to take the panties off.

  Iris only hesitated a moment before lifting her hips and dragging the lace down her legs. When they got too low for her to reach, he tugged them off the rest of the way and tucked them away in his pocket.

  Iris waited for that inevitable moment when he would touch her—when he would find her wet and aching for him—but he didn’t. Instead, a lazy smile curled his lips as he sped down the street.

  “Touch yourself,” he said, his tone brokering no argument.

  Iris had never considered herself shy, and she shouldn’t now, considering they were already in the darkened interior of his car where no one could see them.

  Yet even as she started to do what she was told, her cheeks flushed red and her heart rate skyrocketed.