My patience was curdling. We'd been waiting at the club for over an hour, the Peavey speakers rattling my teeth while the stench of stale sweat and cheap gin did the rest.
Joshua didn't seem to mind. He was already halfway through his fifth Guinness. I hadn't even touched my first.
"She's late," I said.
Joshua eyed me over the rim of his bottle. "She wasn't exactly expecting us, was she? For all we know, she's stayed home."
The thought was appealing. But Father didn't do 'no-shows.' He did persistence. He did stalking.
"Why would she even be here?" I asked, more to myself than to him.
"What?" Joshua yelled over the bass.
"Why would a billionaire's only daughter haunt a joint like this?"
Joshua shrugged, his eyes drifting back to the crowd. "Maybe she's the rebel type. A match made in hell."
"Shut up." I finally took a sip of my drink. It tasted like copper and dust.
Joshua whistled, nodding toward a group of blondes in the middle of the floor. "Now look at those fishes."
"No sane person calls women that."
Joshua turned to me with a sly smirk, his eyes traveling over my tailored charcoal overcoat and the silk tie I hadn't bothered to loosen. He looked down at his own cuff—heavy gold links glinting against the grime of the bar top.
"And no sane person wears a three-thousand-dollar suit to a place where the floor is held together by spilled beer," he countered. "We're the sore thumbs here, Magnus. We might as well be the entertainment."
"We're here to work, not to entertain."
"Well, you forget who you're speaking with, brother." Joshua roared to his feet. "I am a Sterling!"
He staggered for a moment before collapsing back down in a fit of laughter.
"You're letting the alcohol get to you."
"The same way you let the cold get to you." He threw his hands up in a mock surrender. "No judging."
I ignored him and checked my watch. A thin layer of ice had frosted over the glass. I brushed it away, the silver flakes falling like dead skin.
"It's getting late."
Joshua didn't hear me; his eyes were locked on the dance floor. The cheeky bastard was already leaning toward the exit.
"Don't you dare," I warned.
"I'll be back. Give me five minutes." He stumbled into the crowd, making a straight line for his 'fishes.'
I pinched the bridge of my nose and let a long, frigid sigh escape my lips.
"Cool friend," a voice said.
I looked up. A woman was standing over me, her shadow cutting through the strobe lights.
"Mind if I sit?"
She didn't wait for an answer. She dropped into the booth, leaving me speechless for the first time in a century.
I studied her. She was a defiance of everything this night was supposed to be. Rich brown hair streaked with gold, and green eyes that flashed like emeralds behind thick lashes. No dress. No diamonds. Just a plain hoodie and worn jeans.
Joshua was right. The 'fishes' were evolving.
She immediately pulled her arms tight against her chest, rubbing her shoulders.
"Wow," she muttered, her breath hitching. "It's freezing in here."
"Who are you?" I asked. My curiosity was currently outrunning my anger.
This was a VIP booth. It was barely up to my standards, but it was supposed to be a sanctuary from the sweat and the noise below. Usually, people had the sense to stay away.
"I'm Catherine," she said, flashing a dazzling smile.
"And why are you here, Catherine?" I was recovering from the shock. The admiration was already being replaced by a familiar, cold irritation.
"My friends." She pointed toward the bar.
I looked, and for a second, my pulse skipped. Layla was there. I'd only seen the grainy surveillance photos my father had provided, but there was no mistaking her. She stood out from the crowd like a flame in a dark room.
"I thought you were cute," Catherine drawled, oblivious to my sudden shift. "My friends are all silly and shy..."
"And?"
"And they want to talk to you."
Joshua stumbled back, a blonde girl clinging to his arm. Both of them looked drunk to the marrow. His eyes landed on Catherine, and that mischievous twinkle returned.
Gods help me.
"Now, who is this pretty damsel?" he cooed, pointing at her with his bottle. He looked at me and grinned. "I knew you'd come around. Finally found a lady!"
The girl at his side giggled. Catherine's cheeks flushed a deep, embarrassed red.
"I'm just trying to link your friend up with mine," she said quickly. Her eyes flickered to Joshua's companion with a hint of envy. Our wing-woman had clearly just lost her own prize.
"And who is this friend?" Joshua asked, slumping back into the booth.
I cupped my face in my hands, praying for the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
Catherine pointed toward the bar. Joshua followed her finger, and the drunken stupor vanished from his face instantly.
His eyes went wide. "Oh shit."
"Uhm, yeah," Catherine said, her voice trailing off. She clearly hadn't expected a reaction that extreme.
We had been playing the hunters for weeks, only to realize the prey had been sitting ten feet away, watching us the whole time.
"Magnus?" Joshua called.
We locked eyes. An entire argument passed between us in a single look. *Don't do it,* my eyes warned. *It's a trap,* his wide grin answered.
"So..." Catherine broke the silence.
"I think I'm going to go," Joshua's blonde date drawled, swaying as she stood. He didn't even look at her. Catherine didn't bother hiding her satisfaction as the girl disappeared.
"You guys okay?" Catherine asked.
"We're fine," I said. I reached for my beer to steady my nerves, but when I tipped it back, nothing moved. I looked down. The liquid was frozen solid, a pillar of amber ice.
I set the bottle down with a muffled thud. Why the hell was I so nervous?
"Well, in that case," Catherine continued, "we were just heading out to another party. Somewhere a bit more... refined. You guys look like the type."
"We were just leaving," I said, already rising to my feet. I wasn't giving her a choice.
But Joshua was already over his shock. The mischievous twinkle was back, brighter than before.
"Oh, don't be such a snob, Magnus." He turned to Catherine with his most charming, dangerous smile. "We'd love to go."