remarkably naive comment from a man who’d been in politics and business long enough to mistrust everyone and everything. Heck, he’d dragged her in here because he thought she’d undermined him with his brotherhood of secret handshakes, hadn’t he?
“Dad, if you want to become a member—”
“I can’t.” He smoothed his tie, one of his tells when his ego was dented.
“Too old? Then Christian—?”
“No.”
She was quite smart, had always had better marks than her brother, who fudged his way through just about everything, but she was missing something. “Well, Paulie was a member. What does it take?”
“Money. A lot of it. Paul Sr. was a member and once Paulie inherited, he had the means to pay the fee,” her father said in a level tone.
Of course. Therein lay her father’s envy and reverence. It must have eaten him alive that his best friend and rival for her mother’s affections had possessed something he hadn’t.
“When you were still in the hospital, I applied on your behalf, hoping to go as your proxy,” Christian explained. “I didn’t hear back until today.” Glancing at their father, he added, “It is kind of creepy they know Tiff has finally recovered and taken over the reins of Davis and Holbrook.”
“Everyone’s talking about it. It’s hardly a secret,” her father dismissed with a fresh heaping of disapproval.
Tiffany bit back a sigh. She would not apologize for grappling her way into running the company now that she was well enough. What else would she do moving forward? Trophy wife and having a family was out of the question with this face.
Still, it was so unladylike to work, her mother reminded at every opportunity.
“I don’t understand why they’ve accepted her. It’s a men’s club,” her father muttered.
She eyed the mask, recalling the sorts of stories Paulie used to come home with after attending one of these Q Virtus things. “It’s a booze-fueled sex orgy, isn’t it?”
“It’s a networking event,” her father blustered.
Christian offered one of his offside grins. “It’s a chance for the elite to let their hair down,” he clarified. “But a lot of deals are closed over martinis and a handshake. It’s the country club on a grander scale.”
Right. She knew how that worked. Wives and daughters stood around in heels and pearls planning the Fourth of July picnic while husbands and fathers colluded to keep their money amongst themselves. Her engagement to Paulie, Jr. had been negotiated between the seventh and ninth holes of the top green, her wedding staged on the balcony by their mothers, her cake designed by the renowned chef, and all of it exploded into flames against the wrought-iron exit gate.
“This is all very interesting.” It wasn’t. Not at all. “But I’m in the middle of something. You’ll have to sort this out yourselves.”
“Tiffany.”
Her father’s stern tone was the one that made any good daughter spin, take a stance of dutifully planted feet, knees locked, hands knotted at her sides. She caught her tongue firmly between her teeth. “Yes?”
“Our friends in Congress are hoping for good relations with Bregnovia. I need those friends.”
Because his hat was in the ring for the next election. Why was that always the only thing that mattered?
“I don’t know what you expect me to do. Pitch our services while wearing a showgirl costume? Who would take that seriously? I can’t go into a meeting without it, though. No one likes face-to-face interactions with this.” She pointed at where her ear had been reconstructed and a cheekbone implant inserted.
Her father flinched and looked away, not denying that she was hard to look at. That hurt more than the months of screaming burn injuries.
“Maybe I could be your date,” Christian said. “I don’t know if members are allowed to bring an escort, but...”
“Bring my brother to the prom?” That certainly reinforced how far down the eligibility ladder she’d fallen. Her hands stayed curled at her sides, but mentally she cupped them around her tiny, shrunken heart, protecting it. Love yourself, Tiff. No one else will.
“Get me into the club and you won’t have to leave your room until it’s over,” Chris said.
Hide the disfigured beast.
She had to close her eyes against her father’s intense stare, the one that willed her to comply.
You weren’t going to let yourself be a pawn anymore, she reminded herself.
“How long is this thing?” she heard herself ask, because what kind of family would she have, if not this one? Her friends had deserted her, and dating was completely off the table. Her life would be very dark and lonely if she alienated her parents and brother.
“We arrive at sunset on Friday night, and everyone is gone by Sunday evening. I’ll make the travel arrangements,” Christian said with quick relief.
“I wear this thing in and out. That’s the deal, because I won’t do this if I’m going to be stared at.” Listen to her, talking so tough. She was actually scared to her toenails. What would people say if they saw her? She couldn’t let it happen.
“As far as I know, everyone wears masks the whole time,” Chris said, practically dancing, he was so elated.
“I’ll be in my office,” she muttered. Searching for my spine.
* * *
Ryzard Vrbancic abided by few rules beyond his own, but he left his newly purchased catamaran as the shadow of its mast stretched across the other boats in the Venezuelan marina. If he didn’t climb the stairs before the red sky had inked purple, he would be locked out of the Q Virtus Quarterly.
Story of my life, he thought, but hoped that soon he’d be as welcome worldwide as the famous black credit card.
Security was its usual discreet step through a well-camouflaged metal detector that also read the chip in his mask. One of the red-gowned staff lifted her head from her tablet as he arrived and smiled. “We’re pleased to see you again, Raptor. May I escort you to your room?”
She was a pretty thing, but the petite q’s were off-limits, which was a pity. He hadn’t had time to find himself a lover for weeks. The last had complained he spent more time working than with her, which was apparent from her spa and shopping bills. They were as high as his sexual frustration.
His situation should improve now, but he’d have to be patient a little longer. Like the music that set a vacation tone, the petite q’s provided atmosphere. They could stroke an ego, dangle off an arm, flirt and indulge almost any reasonable request, but if they wanted to keep their job, they stayed out of the members’ beds. Being smart and career minded along with attractive and engaging, the petite q’s tended to side with keeping their jobs.
Such a pity.
His
