The Inheritances Game (Jameson Hawthorne)

After Party

The hats came off at the after party. In the upper floors of a private club, Jameson and Catalina mixed with the younger set -- and requested every photo posted online be accompanied by the hashtag TDM.

There was more than one way to make noise, and the more they made, the more alive Jameson felt. Hyper-alert, he missed nothing as he and Catalina made their way back through the throng of socialites.

"Did you see the way he kissed her on the stairwell earlier?" That comment made Catalina blush a bit.

"I heard he overdose in Morocco a few months ago."

"You know there are four brothers, right? Do you think they all look like that?" Yes we do but I am the hottest out of them.

"If you ask me, she's not nearly as pretty in person." Ignore the comments I told myself. Focus on the mission.

"Can you believe--"

"I'll be right back." Catalina asked obviously wanting to get away. He just nodded watching her leave.

Jameson tried to filter out what people were saying about him and Cal. He tried to focus on hearing something more, and one comment bubbled up over the rest. 

"It looks like That Duchess decided to grace us with her presence." 

Jameson followed the speaker' haughty gaze and saw an elegant woman in her twenties. She was tall and lithe, her skin a deep brown, the cut, length, and fit of her bright yellow dress exquisite. Beneath a petite yellow hat, thick braids of varying sizes adorned her head. Those braids were gathered at the base of her neck and streamed down her back, all the way to her hips. More than one person seemed to watch as the woman closed her fingers around the stem of a champagne glass.

"Can I get you anything else, madam? Sir?" The waiter who'd been assigned to Jameson and Catalina the moment they'd entered the club, obvious VIPs, appeared once more. 

Jameson decided to use that as an opening and looked to his target. "What are you drinking?" he asked That Duchess. 

"Prosecco and the tears of my enemies." Her voice was wry, her British accent crisp, refined, aristocratic. "With a splash of elderflower liqueur."

"Do you have a lot of enemies?" he asked. The duchess— assuming she really was a duchess -looked out over the club. 

"You know how it is" she told him. "Some of us exist a little too loudly for the comfort of those who would prefer we did not exist at all."

Midnight came and went. "I have an idea, and you're not going to like it," she said. She traced letter after letter onto the palm of Jameson's hand. S, P, L... 

He closed his fingers around hers. "You think we should split up." 

"I'm either the bait or I'm not," she told him reminding him of what his father had said about her importance in the game. "And I won't be alone." She nodded her head toward the discreet position a Hawthorne guard had taken up nearby. "Give me ten minutes, and if none of the mysterious Proprietor's emissaries seek me out, we'll call it a night." 

Jameson wasn't wired to step back, to let anyone else play in his stead. But she wasn't just anyone. "Ten minutes," he murmured. "I'll be outside." And because she was Catalina he added, "Don't do anything stupid to find an answer. Be careful."

She scoffed, "your one to talk." she walked away leaving him alone.

 Leaning against the building, Jameson slipped his hand into his pocket. His fingers closed around a pocket watch. Three turns of the minute hand to specific numbers, and a spring would release, the face of the watch popping away, revealing a hidden compartment. Jameson thought of the small object currently nestled there, an object he should have gotten rid of weeks ago. Right after Prague.