Legal Briefs
Page 22
“I’ve never been touchy feely either. I guess I like to touchy feely you, though,” he joked. Five minutes later we were parking at Inferno.
Chapter Twelve
Inside we checked our coats and I saw that Adam was dressed head to toe in black, black suit, black shirt, black tie, and he looked sexy as hell. I took a good look at his closely shaved chin and I saw him smile.
“Don’t worry. The way my beard grows, it’ll probably be back by the time we leave.” He offered me his arm and escorted me in the direction of the main club.
“We’re supposed to go to a private reception first where fans who bought tickets can come in and have their books signed. Afterward, we’ll go out and dance and socialize.”
“I’m looking forward to dancing with you. I’m going to get a little closer than Bruce did, though,” he said, smiling down at me, and I happily remembered Bruce’s comments about guys who could dance.
I hadn’t been to this club before, as it was pretty new. It wasn’t all that exciting, just your usual trendy hangout. There was the standard dance floor, D.J. station, huge bar area and lounge-type seating with lots of small tables and booths lining the walls. It was nice enough but nothing special. A young woman dressed in a devil costume met us at the entrance and escorted us through a set of double doors at the back, that I wouldn’t have seen if she hadn’t shown us.
As soon as we were out of the main dance club area, I saw a change in atmosphere. Back here, no expense had been spared to recreate the feeling that one was descending into something decadent, and likely debauched. The walls of the hallway in front of us were brick and arched overhead. It felt like we were entering into a Gothic mansion, or possibly, a medieval dungeon. She led us to another set of doors, these two with large brass rings for handles, and then we passed through them into Hell.
Before us was a large, opulently decorated, private room. The walls were paneled in what looked like ebony, and elaborate brass sconces held what appeared to be actual torches at first. I saw on closer examination, that they were clever electric reproductions, but they threw wavering shadows just like real flames. There were also large reproductions of famous scary paintings like Fuseli’s The Nightmare and Bouguereau’s Dante and Virgil in Hell. Cute place. Tables made of dark wood, roughly hewn, but heavily lacquered, were set up along the walls. Behind them sat chairs upholstered in rich-looking blood red velvet. The centerpiece of the room, however, was a huge golden statue of a dragon with red jeweled eyes. It sat in the middle of a stone well-like structure that was filled with something that looked like lava. Again, though, I realized it was an optical illusion. Adam and I just stood there for a second, taking it all in.
“Wow, Lilah, you’re into some funky shit,” he said finally.
“Well, this is different than the book signing I did at the Marriott,” I noted.
The one thing that did make it slightly less creepy, was the fact that normal-looking people were milling about among the devil costumes of the waiters and waitresses. I saw another woman approach us with a friendly smile. This one was holding a clipboard.
“Hi, I’m Angie from …”
“I recognize you!” I said excitedly to the friendly book blogger who I had chatted with online many times. “I’m Lilah Alden. It’s nice to finally meet you in person. This my uh, my date, Adam.” Why did that feel so incredibly weird to say out loud?
She and I chatted for a few minutes and she pointed out some other people in the room. There were many who were familiar to me, authors from around the area. Angie also pointed out a guy over in the corner with an attractive brunette on his arm. The guy himself was good-looking in sort of a slick way.
“That’s Tony Amato. He owns this club. He offered us the room for free. His girlfriend, Roxanne, there, is a big romance fan.”
Someone gestured to Angie and she went over to greet a new arrival. I recognized Katherine Rhodes, a local author who wrote BDSM erotica. I turned to Adam and saw him staring intently over in the direction of Tony and Roxanne.
“Something interesting about them? Besides their taste in décor I mean,” I asked.
“Just wondering why he’s looking so happy-go-lucky when his cousin is about to stand trial. There are rumors that the government has a witness who can put not only Moretti, but half of his family away. I wouldn’t be surprised if Tony boy over there didn’t have his fingers in a few questionable pies.”
“Great. You’re saying that we’re at a party, obviously thrown by the Marquis de Sade, and it’s in a club owned by a guy in the mafia?”
“A club owned by somebody in the mafia? Who ever heard of that? But I’m sure Mr. Amato over there is an upstanding businessman,” Adam said sarcastically. “Who’s that other dude over there, by the way? He seems to be drawing a crowd.”
“That’s Sebastian Romano who wrote Paradise Unbound.”
“He’s one of the ‘Fiery Ladies’ who writes hot books?” Adam joked.
“They probably named the event before they realized he was coming. He’s supposedly really reclusive. For the record though, men have written erotic books before. Look at D.H. Lawrence, Nabokov, and Henry Miller …”
“Yeah, well are we talking Lady Chatterley’s Lover, Lolita and Tropic of Cancer or are we talking Fabio, the Pirate Who Ripped My Bodice?”
“Did I write Fabio, the Pirate Who Ripped My Bodice? This is a party for modern romance novelists; there are no ‘hot loins or heaving bosoms’ in our books.”
Just then Tony Amato got everyone’s attention. He thanked us, and invited us all to grab a glass of champagne so we could toast before we let the fans in to have their books signed. He explained that he and Roxanne would like to come by and personally say ‘hi’ as well. Cocktail waiters and waitresses dressed in devil costumes, with masks covering their faces, made their way around the room with the booze.
As we got our champagne flutes, Adam put his hand on my bare back and began lightly brushing his fingers up and down. I breathed in quickly and closed my eyes for a second as waves of pleasurable anticipation flowed through me. I looked up at him, with what I was sure was a lust-dazed expression, and I could see the satisfaction it gave him to be able to make me look at him like that. I pulled him down to whisper in his ear.
“Are you bored?” I asked.
“Not at all,” he whispered into mine. “Actually, I was just thinking about all the things I want to do when I finally get you alone.” My heart started tap dancing in my chest and I got pinprick tingles all over my body.
Chapter Twelve
Inside we checked our coats and I saw that Adam was dressed head to toe in black, black suit, black shirt, black tie, and he looked sexy as hell. I took a good look at his closely shaved chin and I saw him smile.
“Don’t worry. The way my beard grows, it’ll probably be back by the time we leave.” He offered me his arm and escorted me in the direction of the main club.
“We’re supposed to go to a private reception first where fans who bought tickets can come in and have their books signed. Afterward, we’ll go out and dance and socialize.”
“I’m looking forward to dancing with you. I’m going to get a little closer than Bruce did, though,” he said, smiling down at me, and I happily remembered Bruce’s comments about guys who could dance.
I hadn’t been to this club before, as it was pretty new. It wasn’t all that exciting, just your usual trendy hangout. There was the standard dance floor, D.J. station, huge bar area and lounge-type seating with lots of small tables and booths lining the walls. It was nice enough but nothing special. A young woman dressed in a devil costume met us at the entrance and escorted us through a set of double doors at the back, that I wouldn’t have seen if she hadn’t shown us.
As soon as we were out of the main dance club area, I saw a change in atmosphere. Back here, no expense had been spared to recreate the feeling that one was descending into something decadent, and likely debauched. The walls of the hallway in front of us were brick and arched overhead. It felt like we were entering into a Gothic mansion, or possibly, a medieval dungeon. She led us to another set of doors, these two with large brass rings for handles, and then we passed through them into Hell.
Before us was a large, opulently decorated, private room. The walls were paneled in what looked like ebony, and elaborate brass sconces held what appeared to be actual torches at first. I saw on closer examination, that they were clever electric reproductions, but they threw wavering shadows just like real flames. There were also large reproductions of famous scary paintings like Fuseli’s The Nightmare and Bouguereau’s Dante and Virgil in Hell. Cute place. Tables made of dark wood, roughly hewn, but heavily lacquered, were set up along the walls. Behind them sat chairs upholstered in rich-looking blood red velvet. The centerpiece of the room, however, was a huge golden statue of a dragon with red jeweled eyes. It sat in the middle of a stone well-like structure that was filled with something that looked like lava. Again, though, I realized it was an optical illusion. Adam and I just stood there for a second, taking it all in.
“Wow, Lilah, you’re into some funky shit,” he said finally.
“Well, this is different than the book signing I did at the Marriott,” I noted.
The one thing that did make it slightly less creepy, was the fact that normal-looking people were milling about among the devil costumes of the waiters and waitresses. I saw another woman approach us with a friendly smile. This one was holding a clipboard.
“Hi, I’m Angie from …”
“I recognize you!” I said excitedly to the friendly book blogger who I had chatted with online many times. “I’m Lilah Alden. It’s nice to finally meet you in person. This my uh, my date, Adam.” Why did that feel so incredibly weird to say out loud?
She and I chatted for a few minutes and she pointed out some other people in the room. There were many who were familiar to me, authors from around the area. Angie also pointed out a guy over in the corner with an attractive brunette on his arm. The guy himself was good-looking in sort of a slick way.
“That’s Tony Amato. He owns this club. He offered us the room for free. His girlfriend, Roxanne, there, is a big romance fan.”
Someone gestured to Angie and she went over to greet a new arrival. I recognized Katherine Rhodes, a local author who wrote BDSM erotica. I turned to Adam and saw him staring intently over in the direction of Tony and Roxanne.
“Something interesting about them? Besides their taste in décor I mean,” I asked.
“Just wondering why he’s looking so happy-go-lucky when his cousin is about to stand trial. There are rumors that the government has a witness who can put not only Moretti, but half of his family away. I wouldn’t be surprised if Tony boy over there didn’t have his fingers in a few questionable pies.”
“Great. You’re saying that we’re at a party, obviously thrown by the Marquis de Sade, and it’s in a club owned by a guy in the mafia?”
“A club owned by somebody in the mafia? Who ever heard of that? But I’m sure Mr. Amato over there is an upstanding businessman,” Adam said sarcastically. “Who’s that other dude over there, by the way? He seems to be drawing a crowd.”
“That’s Sebastian Romano who wrote Paradise Unbound.”
“He’s one of the ‘Fiery Ladies’ who writes hot books?” Adam joked.
“They probably named the event before they realized he was coming. He’s supposedly really reclusive. For the record though, men have written erotic books before. Look at D.H. Lawrence, Nabokov, and Henry Miller …”
“Yeah, well are we talking Lady Chatterley’s Lover, Lolita and Tropic of Cancer or are we talking Fabio, the Pirate Who Ripped My Bodice?”
“Did I write Fabio, the Pirate Who Ripped My Bodice? This is a party for modern romance novelists; there are no ‘hot loins or heaving bosoms’ in our books.”
Just then Tony Amato got everyone’s attention. He thanked us, and invited us all to grab a glass of champagne so we could toast before we let the fans in to have their books signed. He explained that he and Roxanne would like to come by and personally say ‘hi’ as well. Cocktail waiters and waitresses dressed in devil costumes, with masks covering their faces, made their way around the room with the booze.
As we got our champagne flutes, Adam put his hand on my bare back and began lightly brushing his fingers up and down. I breathed in quickly and closed my eyes for a second as waves of pleasurable anticipation flowed through me. I looked up at him, with what I was sure was a lust-dazed expression, and I could see the satisfaction it gave him to be able to make me look at him like that. I pulled him down to whisper in his ear.
“Are you bored?” I asked.
“Not at all,” he whispered into mine. “Actually, I was just thinking about all the things I want to do when I finally get you alone.” My heart started tap dancing in my chest and I got pinprick tingles all over my body.
