“You’ll tell your driver that you’re going home with me?” Enrico asked as moved to open the door for her.
“Of course,” Aimee answered, an image of the grey-faced man flitting through her mind as she swept the train of her long, green dress into the limousine, careful to tuck it away from the door.
Enrico shut the door before joining her on the other side, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her passionately, his eyes closing. He brimmed with alcohol, with lust. His fingers crept to her neck, tickling her soft, sun-tinged skin as they kissed, causing her to lean her head back in pleasure. Above them, the moon glowed, causing the jewels on Aimee’s dress to twinkle, creating spots of light like freckles on her breasts.
In what seemed like mere seconds, the limousine halted outside of Le Joueur. Enrico sighed, breaking the kiss. “Shall we make out way to the penthouse, then? Beware. This time, I won’t allow you to bail on me in the elevator. It’s now or never.” He kissed the tip of her nose and the warmth descended through her body yet again.
Aimee waited breathlessly as Enrico rushed to the other side of the vehicle and offered her his hand, guiding her to the door of his casino. Inside the building, a heavy bass beat vibrated the floor, shaking the windows. Handsome millionaires tossed chips upon blackjack tables, eyeing taut figures of peroxide blonde women, whose eyes traced only their back-pocket wallets. Aimee was grateful to avoid the simmering chaos.
“How do you live above this every single day?” she asked, looking up at him while holding his hand so as to not get sucked into the undertow of the crowd.
“It’s a fascinating social experiment, watching this happen every day,” Enrico said warmly. “But going back to my penthouse with you is the only thing I want to do right now. The only thing on the planet.”
In the elevator, Aimee arched her back, allowing Enrico to press her against the elevator’s mirrored wall and kiss her, slipping his tongue against hers, his five o’clock shadow tickling her smooth cheeks. Her body stirred with lust, with immediacy. She hadn’t been intimate with anyone in far too long, and her body couldn’t help but respond.
The elevator opened its doors to reveal the lavish door to Enrico’s suite, which he quickly unlocked. Inside, the apartment seemed to go on forever; it must have been thousands of square feet, spanning the length and breadth of the casino downstairs. The marble floors shone brightly in the moonlight, and every wall was glass, offering them a perfect, unobstructed view of the sea. The moon flickered across the waves, highlighting the intensity of the turquoise waters.
Aimee swallowed, bringing her hands to her cheeks. “I’ve lived here for ten years, Enrico,” she whispered. “And I’ve never seen anything quite like this before.”
Enrico laughed, his eyes bright. “Wait till you see the bedroom,” he whispered. He reached toward her, bringing his fingers around her slight shoulders as he unzipped her dress and let it fall in a pile on the floor, looking at each inch of her body with appreciation, lust, desire.
As Aimee stood in the puddle of her ball gown, the intensity of the moment seemed to stretch to breaking point; Enrico gazed at her body before lifting his eyes upward, toward hers. They held still for only a moment more before Enrico flung his arms around her waist and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his strong body, nipping at his neck.
Enrico carried her across the apartment, past the fireplace, through the spotless marble hallway, into his bedroom. She caught a glimpse of it, even as she kissed him. The bed was enormous, pushed up against another massive, floor-to-ceiling window, which displayed another picturesque view of the sea.
He dropped her softly upon the bed and sighed evenly, placing his hands upon her thighs. He seemed to feast on her with his eyes. “I could look at you for hours,” he whispered.
“Why don’t you take this off?” Aimee murmured, lifting her toes toward his bow tie, pointing. “You’re a little overdressed for this occasion.”
Enrico laughed once more, lifting his fingers to the tie. He ripped at it, allowing the strings to hang loose on either side of his neck. He pulled his broad shoulders from his tuxedo jacket before quickly unfastening his leather belt.
As Enrico undressed, his eyes never left Aimee’s. Lust for her emanated from his lips to his cheeks, red with drink, and a single, wretched thought seeped into Aimee’s brain—causing a single wrinkle to form right above her nose.
Even as she felt herself shudder in wave after wave of desire, she knew if she didn’t finish the mission she’d begun that night, she never would. She’d fall asleep and awaken when it was too late—when Duchamp would have no need for her information any longer. She’d watch the life her father had built fall beneath the sea, and she’d be sucked into the gloom of her mother’s Seattle world. She wouldn’t have Enrico any longer, sure. But she also wouldn’t have anything else.
She had to make a sacrifice.
As Enrico began to undo his shirt buttons, revealing a small patch of dark chest hair, Aimee lifted herself from her horizontal position, placing her hands upon his shoulders.
She leaned toward him, kissing his cheek. “Baby, I have to run to the bathroom,” she whispered. “You’ll wait for me in here?” Her voice was soft, aching. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for his confirmation.
“Of course,” Enrico said, placing his lips on hers. “Don’t be long, okay?”
Scarcely able to believe her luck, Aimee jumped off the bed and tiptoed into the hallway, glancing furtively around, searching for an office, somewhere she could find the information she needed.
As she crept along, her heart jolting against her rib cage, her eyes landed upon a dark room, off the main living room, its door ajar. She lifted a hand to the door and pushed it gently, revealing an office with an antique desk stretched across the far wall. The desk featured a sleek computer, along with many files and folders.
Aimee rubbed her palms together, her mind racing. Where would she begin? Where would Enrico keep the specifics of his bid?
She leaned against the edge of the desk chair, placing tentative fingers upon the mouse. As she whizzed the cursor across the screen, her eyes grew wide with the realization that, for some unknown reason, Enrico had left his computer unlocked. She flicked through several documents, labeled with Italian names that she couldn’t make much sense of. As she opened them, she saw countless nonsensical numbers—but nothing that seemed hefty enough to purchase an entire piece of land.
She sighed, anxiety filling her. She clicked on the internet browser icon, which drew up the previous tabs Enrico had had open. The first, his email, struck her immediately. There were several messages in the inbox from a man named Thomas Barker, an accountant who had previously worked for her father—before quitting, due to the fact that her father couldn’t pay his fees.