Alyssa
I settled into my seat, and Russell’s gaze turned hard.
“You’re going to be meeting with some serious men tonight, the types that, one way or another, have more blood on their hands than most military units.”
I gulped.
“But you don’t need to worry about any of that.”
Russell took a sip of his drink, followed by a puff of his cigar. His eyes flicked to the table in front of me, and, apparently noticing that he hadn’t offered me a drink, he got up and walked to the bar at the far end of the room.
“Most of these guys are gentlemen, not really the type to do any harm to women. The hair-trigger assholes tend to get weeded out before they make it up to this level.”
“Like Cory?” I asked, immediately regretted what I’d said.
Russell said nothing, instead dragging his finger along a series of wine bottles, eventually settling on one. With a wine key, he opened the bottle, poured me a glass, and set it down in front of me. Silence hung in the air, and I wondered if he was saying nothing purposefully, in order to make me mull over the faux pas that I’d just said.
“Cory’s his own thing,” said Russell finally, making it clear that Cory wasn’t to have anything to do with this conversation. “But, yes, generally, hotheads have a short career in this industry. One way or another.”
I nodded and took a sip of the wine. It was rich and delicious.
“So your job is to look good. You stay at my side unless I say otherwise. These guys are going to be trying to lure you with all manner of pick-up lines, telling you they’ll fly you to Paris for the week, take you out on their private yacht, tell you they’ll introduce you to the president of fucking Japan, whatever they think it’ll take to get you to give their 1ohnson a little tug. But your job isn’t to do any of that. No, your job is to attend to just about every other need they have aside from those that end with them making sticky little puddles in their shorts.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Talk to them, charm them, maybe even get information out of them, if you can.”
“How do I get information out of them?” I asked. “I mean, I’m not exactly a CIA agent.”
“Don’t worry about prying,” he said. “Lots of these guys will just offer up shit in order to impress you. Say, for example, one of these bigwigs mentions he’s going to Moscow next week, says he can get you into some exclusive club or some shit. That’s the kind of thing I might want to know. But don’t go out of your way; I’d rather you just smile and look hot than risk getting found out scoping for info.”
“Got it,” I said, feeling a little better.
He took a sip of his drink and considered the matter.
“You know what a geisha is, right?” Russell asked, tapping his finger on the table.
“Vaguely,” I said. “They’re the Japanese women, right? They serve tea to people and wear all the makeup.”
“More or less,” said Russell. “But there’s a little more to it than that. Geishas are essentially professional entertainers. See, back in the day it was common for women to actually be skilled in the arts of entertainment in conversation. Women would take lessons on how to speak with men, how to flatter them, how to make them feel good, and how to put them at ease in a social setting. Sex wasn’t really a part of it, though it could be.”
He took another sip and leaned forward.
“What you’re going to be is like that. You’re going to be an urban geisha, pleasing the men with your looks and charm. You’ll talk with them, laugh at their bad jokes, fetch their drinks, and take it in stride when they’ve had one too many and give your ass a squeeze or two. Moving up in this world and getting information is my goal, and that body of yours is what I’m gonna use as the carrot on the end of this particular stick.”
“So … they can touch me whenever they want?” I asked.
“They’ll try for an ass pinch here and there, but these guys know better than to get too handsy. And I’m glad you mentioned that because there’s one rule here that I want you to remember above all others.”
He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he did.
“Don’t forget even for a second that until I say otherwise, you’re mine. You belong to me. Any of these guys promise you the moon made out of diamonds, you laugh and tell them you’ll think about it. Because you’re as taken as it gets.”
There wasn’t a hint of levity to what Russell had said. He was serious as a heart attack about me belonging to him.
“Now,” he said, his eyes moving along my body, “I think you and I are both more than ready to go.”
I gulped, the anxiety of the evening to come settling in my stomach like hot wax.
“Sure,” I said. “Ready to do this.”
A pleased grin spread across Russell’s face.
“That’s the spirit.”
A little bit later, we were both dressed and ready to go. Getting back into Russell’s car, we pulled out onto the streets and were soon headed through Central Park.
“Where are we headed?” I asked, watching the rolling green of the park pass us by, a little envious of the men and women out spending their evening taking a carefree stroll.
“Upper West Side,” he said.
Soon, we cut through the park and arrived on one of the streets in the Upper West Side lined with tall towers of stone. Down the road, I spotted a particularly stately building with a gathering of men and women in front, luxury cars pulling up to valets who buzzed around like bees.
“That’s it,” he said. “Just stay by my side at first—get comfortable.”
We pulled up in front of the building, where I watched as the wealthy-looking men and women filed into through the tall, ornate front doors. Russell pulled to a stop, and a valet quickly took the car off our hands. Russell stepped out of the car and walked to my side, opening the door and offering me his arm to take, which I did.
I scanned the crowd, noting that most of the men were a little older and very well-dressed. All seemed to have a vaguely European look to them. And, of course, nearly all of them had a stunning young woman—or two—on his arm.
“Pretty out in the open for a party of criminals,” I said.
Russell snorted. “Between everyone here tonight they’ve probably got more than half of the NYPD on their payroll. They could get drunk and fire their guns into the air and likely get away with it.”
The two of us ascended the grand stairs leading to the front door. There, a pair of burly guards with faces like shaved pit bulls stood on each side of the door, their beady eyes scanning each person who walked in.
“Penthouse,” said one of the guards after confirming Russell’s identity. “And go straight there.”
Russell gave a nod, and soon after the two of us were strolling through the impossibly luxurious lobby of the building, a grand space built in the old Gilded Age style.
“You think this is impressive, just wait until you see the apartment,” said Russell. “But try not to look too impressed; letting your jaw drop onto the floor at the sight of all the money on display is an easy way to look like you’re out of your element.”
“But I am out of my element,” I said as we stepped through the tall gold doors of the elevator.
“Sure,” he said. “But you don’t want them to know that.”
It all seemed like too much. But I resolved to do my best.
The elevator rose quickly, and after a few moments, it opened to reveal what had to have been the most amazing apartment that I’d ever seen in my life. It was a penthouse with ceilings that seemed to stretch up into infinity, the glass back walls of the place looking out over Central Park and the Upper East Side beyond. Gold and marble dominated the apartment, and classical-style sculptures and paintings comprised most of the décor. It was less like an apartment and more like a gorgeous estate placed on top of a building in the city. At least a hundred men and women were there, black-clad servers darting here and there among them. There was even enough space for a small string group to play music on a stage.
“Remember what I said about not letting your jaw drop,” Russell said.
“I know,” I said, “but this apartment is just incredible.”
Russell nodded. “This is the kind of place the arms trade allows.”
“Who’s the owner?”
Russell scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar face.
“There he is,” he said, gesturing with a subtle nod towards the crowd.
The man he nodded towards was a trim older man with silver hair and a tight beard to match. He was dressed in a simple but expensive-looking tuxedo and a pair of black dress shoes polished to a mirror sheen. A small half-circle of men and women were gathered around him, and they all seemed to be held in rapt attention as he spoke to them, his hands waving expressively as he spoke. And, of course, two impossibly gorgeous women in glamorous dresses tight enough to show off their youthful bodies were at his side.
“That’s Sandor Szsavost,” he said. “Hungarian, I believe. “Started out as a gunrunner in Budapest when he was fifteen and, over the decades, rose to become one of the wealthiest dealers in the business.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off the man. He wasn’t especially attractive or anything like that, but something about his bearing and the way he spoke commanded the eye.
“And he’s the exact type of man that you’re going to be fraternizing with.”
My eyes went wide as I turned to Russell.
“Are you serious?” I asked. “What the hell is a girl like me going to have to talk about with a man like that? He’ll think I’m some bubble-headed ditz.”
“Oh, and I forgot to tell you about the girls on his arms,” said Russell. “The blonde in the yellow dress is a Nobel laureate in literature, and the brunette with half of her tits hanging out is a visiting molecular biologist at Columbia.”
“Jeez,” I said, “even the women ar—“”
Russell’s smart-ass smile tipped me off before I could go too far.
“Oh,” I said. “Ha ha.”
“Trust me,” he said, “these girls aren’t here for their brains; they’re here for … the other things they bring to the table.”
I could only imagine what those things might be.
“But don’t get me wrong,” he said. “Remember what I said about geishas? These girls aren’t just here for their … ah, bedroom skills; they’re skilled conversationalists and pleasant company. Plenty of these guys are married to overbearing housefraus or bratty trophy wives; while they enjoy a glass of very, very expensive wine, just having a pretty girl to provide some good conversation is all the female companionship most of them are really looking for. And that’s why I think you’ll be a natural fit for this: you’re bringing more than just your good looks.”
“But what if I’m not a good conversationalist?” I asked, feeling a little warmed by his compliment. “What do I even say to these guys?”
“You know the first rule of good conversation? Just let the other person talk about themselves.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yep,” said Russell. “Most people are just waiting for their turn to talk in conversations anyway. Cut right to the chase and let them yak on about whatever they want; they’ll walk away thinking ‘my, what an interesting person that young lady was’.”
I smirked, taking a little pleasure at Russell’s take on things.
“Trust me,” he said. “You’re going to charm these guys like they’ve never been charmed before.”
He stepped forward, closer to the party. But just as I began to follow him, I felt his hand grasp my upper arm and squeeze it in a way that sent my heart racing.
“But remember one thing above all others,” he said in a low purr into my ear. “You belong to me.”
I took in a sharp breath, my skin turning to gooseflesh and an excited shiver running up my spine. I couldn’t believe the hold that Russell had on me.
With that, we walked into the party. Eyes flicked to both of us as we strode further into the crowd, many of the men’s eyes lingering on my body in a way that left me unsure of how to feel. Russell took a pair of champagne flutes from the passing tray of a server and handed one to me. I took a sip, my eyes lighting up as I let the delicious bubbling wine dance on my palate.
Eventually, a stocky man in a tight-fitting tux approached us. He was bald as could be, and his face was fleshy, almost giving him the appearance of a big baby. The sides of his mouth pulled up into an odd smile as he laid eyes on the two of us.
“Russell Carrick,” he said in a posh British accent as he extended his hand toward Russell.
“Alexander York,” said Russell, taking his hand and giving it a solid shake.
“Please,” said the man, his eyes flicking over to me as he spoke. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me ‘Alex’?”
“Just this last one,” said Russell with a sly smile.
“And who is this lovely little specimen?” he asked, turning his full attention to me.
“This is Alyssa Culverton,” he said. “My companion for the evening.”
“‘Culverton’,” he said, looking away thoughtfully as he let the name hang in the air. “A fine Anglo name. Is your family from the UK, by any chance?”
“Um, I don’t know,” I said, the words tumbling out. “I think I’m some kind of mutt. German, English, maybe some Swedish. Um, don’t really know.”
Alex expression sank a little, as though he’d been expecting a more exciting answer than that. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Russell flash me a look, one that seemed to say “come on; you can do better than that.”
Alex turned his attention back to Russell.
“Now, I know talking shop is a little passé at Sandor’s soirees, but I can’t help but notice how far up you’ve come in our little industry. More and more I’ve been hearing your name on the lips of some very important people.”
“Pleased to hear that,” said Russell. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope to one day be counted among the esteemed businessmen here.”
“And if you keep this up, you certainly will. You’re a frightfully intelligent and ambitious young man; low-level deals with the plebes is hardly where someone like you ought to be.”
“That’s very kind of you to say, Alex,” said Russell.
Then a curious expression crossed Russell’s handsome face, one that seemed to suggest he’d just remembered something that he needed to attend to right at this moment.
“Alex, you’ll have to excuse me; I just remembered that I promised a client an update on a shipment for tomorrow.”
“Ah, yes,” said Alex. “Duty calls. Don’t let me keep you.”
“But I’m very curious to hear what you’ve been up to these last weeks,” said Russell. “How about my lovely companion here keeps you company until I make this quick call?”
Alex’s eyes went over my body once again.
“I do believe that’s more than fair,” he said, that same odd smile returning to his face.
“Excellent,” said Russell. “I’ll be back in a brief moment.”
With that, he turned to leave, but not before flashing me an expression that seemed to say that it was my time to shine. Anxiety twisted my stomach into a hot, tight knot.
“So, Alyssa,” said Alex. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I said a word, what Russell had said came to mind.
Just ask them about themselves.
I took a deep breath.
“Me?” I asked, letting a sensual smile form on my face. “There’s really not much to say. I’m more curious to hear about how a man like you ended up here in the city.”
“Ah,” said Alex. “Well, that’s quite a story. But I needn’t talk your ear off about something like that.”
“No,” I said, placing my hand on his arm and giving it a little squeeze. “I insist.”
His face turned a light shade of red at my touch, and I felt the tension loosen in his body. He was more than okay with what I was doing.
“Oh, very well, then,” he started. “You see, I was born in a small town in northern England, a little place called …”
And off he went. Over the course of the next fifteen minutes or so, Alex summarized his life story. When he was done, me nodding and smiling along all the while, he moved onto current matters, giving me his in-depth opinion about certain issues in the New York arms trading business. They were people whom I’d never heard of and it was business minutia that I knew nothing about, but I kept in mind what Russell had told me about listening in for details.
Russell was right on the money; all it took was me being a wide-eyed, attentive listener, giving him a smile and a touch here and there. It was almost too easy.
“… and that’s why, if you ask me, Sasha needs to be a little more persistent when doing his purchasing in LA next month. I keep telling him that there’s no room for the soft-hearted in this business, you know? But young men like him, well, they always seem to think they know better than those who’ve long ago dealt with the same issues with which they’re currently grappling. But they’ll learn. One way or another.”
Before I could say another word, Russell appeared at my side.
“Sorry again about that,” he said.
Alex swiped his hand through the air.
“Think nothing of it,” he said. “Alyssa here has been a more than charming conversation partner. And such an interesting young woman! I must ask, Russell—where did you find such a lovely thing?”
Russell chuckled softly. “I can’t give away all my secrets.”
Then he flashed me a knowing look that I couldn’t help but smile at.
“Ah, damn,” said Alex, looking over our shoulders at someone in the distance. “There’s Leonardo Bianchi, that smarmy Italian little shit; I’ve been meaning to speak with him for months. You’ll have to excuse me.”
“Think nothing of it,” said Russell. “It was a pleasure seeing you, Alex.”
“Oh, Mr. Carrick,” said Alex, turning his attention to me once again. “I assure you that the pleasure was more than all mine.”
With that, he headed off behind us.
“Looks like you made quite the impression,” said Russell, watching Alex leave.
“I think so,” I said. “I mean, it really was a matter of just doing what you said. I just let him talk, and now he thinks I’m the most interesting woman that he’s ever met.”
“That’s the way it is with a lot of these guys; they just want someone to listen to them yak on about whatever they have on their mind. I guess men and women aren’t so different after all.”
Then he flashed me a killer smile. I gave him a joking jab to the arm.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “And he told me a bunch of things that you might want to hear.”
“Oh?” asked Russell.
I filled him in on the various business dealings that Alex had mentioned in passing.
“That’s all … really interesting.”
“Why?” I asked, curious.
“Because I was chatting with a few other men out on the patio, and they both mentioned LA, too.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that a lot of business seems to be taking place on the West Coast. New York is usually a hot spot for arms deals, but the heat’s been coming down on in these last few months. When that happens, business tends to shift to another city until things calm down. If what Alex said is true, then it looks like LA might be where the action’s going to be for the time being.”
“Interesting,” I said.
“Well, that’s something to think about later,” said Russell. “For the time being, I want us both to make the rounds separately. I’m going to go shake hands here and there, and I want you to do the thing that you seem to have a natural affinity for.”
“Oh please,” I said. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“I think Alex might argue with you on that front.”
I could help but chuckle as I looked across the room at Alex, who seemed to be stealing glances at me as he chatted.
“Okay, fine,” I said. “I’ll make the rounds.”
Russell looked me up and down once again.
“Just don’t forget the rule.”
“I won’t.”
“I know you won’t. But just to make me feel better, I want you to say it.”
“I’m … your property.”
“Good girl.”
And with that he was off, leaving me alone with the strange, hot feeling that ran through my body as I confirmed that I was his, and his alone. Turning my attention to the crowd of partygoers, I finished my glass of bubbly and fetched another. The wine was delicious, but I knew that there was some subtlety to the work that Russell wanted me to do. Getting too tipsy probably wasn’t the best idea.
I moved through the party, putting a little slinkiness to my step. I felt a little shy and awkward at first, but the more eyes that fell on me as I moved through the crowds, the more at ease I became. It was strange to admit, but I was sort of loving the attention.
Eventually, I found a tall, well-dressed man standing at the long table covered with food. He was plopping item after item onto his plate, and—most importantly—unaccompanied. I decided that he’d make an excellent test run for my new skill as an urban geisha.
Sauntering up to his side, I deftly took the toothpick of food from his hand and, looking deep into his watery gray eyes, placed the food in my mouth and dragged the toothpick out, letting the thing move sensually over my lips.
“Sorry,” I said. “I was just starving.”
The man was stupefied for a long moment, his jaw hanging slack. Once he regained his composure, I put him through the same paces as Alex—a little flirting, some light conversation, and of course, a close ear out for anything that could help Russell in future dealings.
Once I ended the conversation I began to feel … incredible. It was like I was playing with a new toy or something; I couldn’t believe the effect I was having on these men.
I didn’t waste any time moving on. Over the course of the next hour or two, I fluttered like the little social butterfly I was from man to man, doing my little act and taking mental notes. And with each man, I felt a little more at ease, a little sexier in my own skin. Once I’d run through a few guys, I’d track down Russell and walk arm-in-arm with him through the party, giving him all the details on just what I’d found out.
“You have a talent for this,” he told me during one of our little chats. “And you’ve just been letting it go to waste this whole time.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said, briefly considering just how far apart the life I was leading now was from the bird-in-a-cage life I’d been living with Logan.
“Don’t let me keep you,” said Russell. “You look like you’re on a roll.”
“Indeed I am,” I said with a wink as I headed back into the crowd.
I went from man to man over the next hour or so. And when I’d finished with my latest guy—some gunrunner out of Russia—I decided that a little fresh air was in order. Grabbing a new glass of champagne, I headed out onto the sweeping balcony. As I leaned against the railing and looked out onto Central Park, it dawned on me just how strange this new life of mine was.
“Lovely view, is it not?”
The voice from behind me was deep and buttery-smooth. I turned and was face to face with none other than Sandor Szsavost, the owner of the apartment who Russell had pointed out to me earlier. Up close he was, despite his age, strikingly handsome. Two stunning green eyes were set amid the wrinkles of his face, and his silver hair was thick and sleek. A confident smile played on his lips. And I wasn’t exactly a clothes connoisseur, but standing this close I could see that his tuxedo was exquisitely made.
I also noticed that the two girls who’d been hanging off his arms were gone.
“I decided that a little solitude was in order,” he said, noticing my glance.
“Then I should, um, leave you alone, then?”
The words came out thin and wavering. The poise and confidence that I’d had only a moment ago seemed to have left me; something about Sandor’s presence had a way of making it very clear to whomever he was talking that he was the boss.
“Absolutely not,” he said, approaching me and stopping at my side. “Even if I wished to be alone, I’d be a damn fool to turn down the company of a woman such as yourself.”
“Kind words,” I said, regaining some of my composure.
“And not a single one untrue.”
Sandor turned to the city, taking a slow sip of his drink. His bearing was fascinating; he didn’t seem to care one bit about silence or what he ought to or ought not to be saying or doing. He carried himself in a way that a man who knew he had complete control over any situation might.
“Now,” he said. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out the fact that you’re clearly new to this game.”
“This game?” I asked.
“Well, that’s the manner in which I prefer to look at it,” he said, allowing the slightest hint of a smile to form on the corner of his mouth.
“With what’s at stake in the work you do,” I said, “calling it a ‘game’ seems to be …”
“A bit of an understatement?”
I smiled. “Exactly.”
“Most things are a game, when you really think about it,” he went on. “They have their rules, their strategies, and … ways to tilt things to your advantage.”
Now his steely gray eyes narrowed slightly.
“I suppose that’s one way to look at things,” I said, turning my body and facing him as I leaned against the railing.
“It’s the only way to look at things.”
He allowed another long moment of silence to hang over us.
“But you know that I’m new to this,” I said.
“Indeed.”
He took another slow sip of his drink.
“I’ve had my eye on you this evening,” he continued. “And while it’s clear that you have some talents that you’re only now uncovering, there’s a bit of a … lack of refinement to your bearing. Your skills, as they are, might work on some of the other men, but you’ll find that I’m quite immune to your charms. Well, the ones you have control over, at least.”
This sounded like a challenge. My first instinct was to kick the exact charm that he’d just disparaged into overdrive and do all I could to make him fall for me. But before I even opened my mouth or adjusted my body language, a thought occurred to me that what he’d just said was nothing more than a calculated move to force me to put even more effort into upping my seduction. Maybe even doing things that I was specifically ordered not to do in order to convince him just how skilled I was at all this.
“Nice try,” I said with a sly smile.
“Ah,” he said, setting his drink down and clasping his hands together. “I see that I’ve underestimated you just a bit. But consider that a little lesson in just how this game works. Not everyone is going to simply stare at that lovely body of yours like a horny schoolboy.”
“Aren’t all men just horny schoolboys deep down?” I asked.
“Very true,” he said, considering the words. “They just find more expensive ways to show off for the girls.”
The view hung before both of us like some kind of grand painting.
Before another word could be said, the balcony door opened. My eyes flicked towards it, and I saw that it was Russell. He walked towards the two of us, his stride confident.
“Ah, Russell Carrick,” said Sandor. “There’s the young man whom I’ve heard so much about.”
“A pleasure to see you, Mr. Szsavost .”
Russell’s bearing caught my eye. Though he was being respectful towards Sandor, he didn’t seem to be intimidated.
“Please,” Sandor said. “No need for such formalities. This is an evening of relaxation.”
“I see you’ve met my companion for the evening.”
Russell flashed me a look, one that seemed to suggest the number one rule for the evening that he’d explained to me earlier.
“Indeed I have,” said Sandor “And what a lucky man you are to have such a woman on your arm for the night.”
Another silence hung in the air.
“Now, Russell, I have some matters I wish to discuss with you. I’ve heard much of your success in the city, but we have some other opportunities for which I think you would be a natural fit.”
“Are these opportunities in LA, by any chance?” asked Russell.
Sandor’s eyebrows raised.
“They certainly are,” he said, impressed. “Whoever you’re getting your information from seems to be worth their weight in gold.”
“Her weight,” said Russell.
Sandor looked me over.
“Ah, yes; I should’ve known. Beautiful women make the best little birds.”
He turned his attention back to Russell.
“But as we both know, some matters are best left out of their ears. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to discuss these matters with you in private.”
“Of course,” said Russell.
Then he turned to me.
“Don’t go far.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
With that, the two men walked back into the party, speaking closely with one another. I watched the two of them melt back into the party, wondering just what they were speaking about. Glass in hand, I turned back to the city spread out before me. Sipping my wine, I reflected on just how strange these last two days had been, and realized that events were likely to become even stranger. And possibly more dangerous. It appeared that LA was on the horizon for Russell and me, and who knew what that might bring? I’d always dreamed of going to California, and now it seemed like it was about to happen.
I spent more time looking out onto the city, sipping my wine and enjoying the pleasant buzz. I became lost in thought, and after a time the balcony door opened back up and Russell rejoined me on the balcony.
“You did good tonight,” he said. “Sandor was impressed. And he doesn’t say that about just anyone.”
“He seemed to feel the same way about you,” I said.
“Then it’s good that we’re working together.”
I couldn’t help but feel a little warmth at this comment. It wasn’t exactly a partnership, sure, but the two of us were a pair. And so far, I was enjoying it.
“Now,” he said, leaning in close, “I think it’s time to get out of here. I’m getting a little tired of these men here thinking they have a chance at what belongs to me.”
In spite of myself, I couldn’t help but agree.
“Then I think it’s time we … headed back.”