Wicked Seduction

13 The huntress

Song for the mood: Slow by Kylie Minogue (cheers to Aussie musicians!)

Knew you'd be here tonight
So I put my best dress on, boy I was so right
Our eyes connected
Now nothin's how it used to be, no second guesses

Vera

Nine p.m.

"So, do I get to meet this new guy?" Saph asked, sitting on the sofa in the apartment we shared. An old episode of The Apprentice aired on the television screen in the background.

"Umm, no. It's nothing serious." I tucked my chin in and avoided eye contact, letting the loose hair fall on my face. "He rang me this morning, but it was more of a courtesy call after our date last week."

"As long as he's treating you well," Saph replied, swirling her wine glass.

"Yes, Mom," I replied sardonically, sipping my glass of red wine. It was a middle-of-the-range Merlot, perfect for a night-in on a Saturday evening. "Why aren't you and Jules hanging out tonight?"

"He's, umm, occupied."

"Oh?"

"Uh, yeah. We decided to try an open relationship, and he's seeing someone tonight," Saph replied. I noticed the prickles of pain in her gem-like eyes and wondered how long their relationship would last if Jules continued sleeping with other people.

"Are you keeping your options open since Jules is seeing other people?" I suspected that he was with his mystery woman, who'd pay him for whatever tricks he performed for her.

"I'm open to all options," Saph replied. "Vera, I hear your phone ringing from your room. It's rung several times."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I think someone wants you badly tonight. Could it be Mister X? Or Mister Y? Or the mysterious Mister Z?" Saph chuckled.

"Alright, hun. I'll check who's calling," I chirped. Removing my butt from the sofa, I kissed Saph's pretty forehead and strolled into my bedroom.

I snatched the phone from my bed and saw three missed calls from Alistair Scott.

***

Alistair

Eleven p.m.

Vera, Vera. Where are you, sweetheart?

I sipped my malt whiskey to pass the time as I lazed on the leather sofa at Paulo's Bar. My right foot had a life of its own, tapping to the jazzy music at the upmarket club.

Glancing at my reflection in the window, I saw a nervous man with taut cheeks. I looked around and noticed two women-absolute dolls-rolling their hips and shoulders as they eyed me from top to toe. No doubt, their eyes caught the shine of my Cartier Trinity bracelet, a symbol of men's style and elegance, and, of course, my Rolex watch.

What happened to Vanessa? Well, let's just say that I cut dinner short and instructed my driver to take her home. Vanessa lied to me about her age. I thought she was twenty-one, but she didn't have a legitimate ID card when I ordered some wine. She was eighteen and barely legal.

Fuck. I needed Vera.

I shook my head and crossed my right leg over my left, feeling anxiety pit against my stomach. I sipped my whiskey to calm my nerves and indulged in the light-bodied flavor that coated my mouth.

I was on the prowl for my lioness, who promised she'd meet me here at ten-thirty p.m. She was thirty minutes late if she planned to come at all.

I started scrolling through my work messages when I felt a cool hand slip through my unbuttoned shirt and rub my chest.