Page 43 of Nicoletta
Bolt and I stare at each other for a long minute, then I wave my hand over him. “You’re going to need more than just the pants, or they’re not going to let us through the front door.”
He rolls his eyes, and I proceed to help him with the rest of the tux, including the suspenders and the cufflinks.
“Why the fuck don’t they just put buttons on the cuffs?”
“This is what you call formal attire. Just be glad I didn’t make you wear the bowtie.”
“I would’ve rebelled.” He catches my hand in his and stares into my eyes. “We got this.”
My stomach twists with anxiety the entire drive up to the country club. We’ve rented a Mercedes, and aside from the performance of the car and a few words on where to turn or how the traffic is moving, Bolt and I are awkwardly quiet. I assume we’re both caught up in our own thoughts about how this evening will go down.
Plus, I’ll be seeing my father for the first time since he tried to hold me captive in his home. Although, I hate to admit it, my father still could stop me with a glance. He’s never been physical with me, but he has a commanding presence that demands attention, not unlike Bolt—a terrifying comparison.
I’m banking on the element of surprise, and the fact Clark Williams would never cause a scene at the country club, to make this all work.
We turn off Sunset onto Capri Drive, and my heart flutters faster as we drive through the residential canyon area. The club has kept the entrance discreet, blending in to conform with the rugged, tree-lined landscape.
The gatehouse looms in front of us, and Bolt’s eyes shift to me.
“Just pull up, and I’ll do all the talking,” I assure him. “You might need to show your driver’s license, but that’s all.”
We inch up behind the line of cars attending the event, andI hope my prediction is right. After all this, not getting in on a technicality would suck.
Finally, we’re next. Bolt pulls up the Mercedes; I lean over into Bolt’s space and breathe a sigh of relief.
“Jonathan, how are you tonight?” I ask the security guard who’s been at the gate since I was a teenager.
“Just fine, Miss Nicoletta. Big turnout. Your father just got here about fifteen minutes ago.”
He pushes a button, and the gate rises. “You have a good night now.”
“You do the same.”
Bolt powers up the window and gives me the side-eye. “That guy didn’t give me a second look. I guess it pays to know the right people.”
“It pays to be nice to people and treat them like human beings,” I counter. “Sadly, I can’t say that for all the attendees here tonight.”
As we ascend the winding driveway, a sprawling clubhouse appears on a hill overlooking the course.
“Shit, this place is fuckin’ huge.”
Bolt’s simple description hits me in a strange way. He’s right, of course, but for so many years, this building and the surrounding area represented parties, galas, tennis tournaments. It’s been my second home, and it’s strange seeing it through someone else’s eyes.
Bolt does one more check-in with Blood and Smoke.
When he swipes away the call, I ask, “Everything all right? I mean, they’ve never been here before so . . .”
“Don’t worry, babe. They might’ve never been to a country club before, but pulling off a job seamlessly is what the Royal Bastards do best.”
“I don’t doubt your abilities, but I also know the top politicalfigures and billionaires attending this event will stop at nothing to secure their fortunes.”
“Just stick to the plan.” His voice is hard and controlled.
I long to say something to at least bring us to a compatible alliance, but there’s no time for personal issues. We both need to be clear and focused.
We inch our way around the circular driveway, finally making it to the valet at the front door. Bolt hands off the key, then takes my arm, and we move through the entrance like we belong here.
Not sneaking in.
