Page 5 of Tangled Roses
He shrugs. “They knew Andrei, and they trusted him. He was one of them. Your brother is–well, he’s not.”
I say nothing, but the fury inside me threatens to implode, and he says quickly, “There may be a way to gain their trust.”
“I’m listening.”
“Well, um, it’s a little left field but well, your father was a member of a certain club they, um, we, are all involved in. A kind of gentleman’s club where deals are made and cemented before the evening really begins.”
“You are speaking of Burning Roses.”
He appears shocked that I know of it and edges on his seat and nods. “Yes. Call it a gentleman’s club. A place where there are no agendas, just business followed by pleasure. Trust is earned through membership and the members look after their own because secrecy is valued as the highest commodity, more than any signature on a business contract.”
I say nothing and for the first time, he raises his eyes to mine and says in a whisper, “You must become a member before they will consider investing. Your father was a trusted friend and you need to earn that trust.”
“What do I have to do?” I maintain my composure, but inwardly I am fuming. I understand exactly what that organization involves and now I know why my father frequented their parties. Business. It was always business and if anything, it makes me feel better knowing that was his reason for going there.
My brothers discovered he attended four parties every year and was always with the same escort. Veronica Scott–Stanley. His mistress, if you like. My brother, Valentin, tracked down her niece when we learned Veronica had suffered a tragic accident and with her help, they uncovered a secret that is so catastrophic for our country it’s almost unbelievable. My job is to wrap this up and to discover why our government’s assassin is a few steps ahead of us and interested in our business. If they ordered the hit on our father, it is probably connected to this club.
“I’ve arranged your attendance at the next gathering.” Travis says quickly, his voice returning to the practical one I usually expect to hear.
“Tomorrow night they are attending a house in Tribeca for a social evening. The venue is Eglantine House, and you will be required to attend with an escort.”
Fuck! I am raging inside because this is the last thing I want to do with my time, but I understand our continued success is riding on my involvement with this organization and so I remain silent.
He says with more confidence. “This is the perfect way to ensure your investments remain. Reassure the members, join their ranks and network your way out of trouble. You may even have fun while you’re doing it.”
The suggestive wink that accompanies his words makes my skin crawl because I am only too aware of what is involved. My brother Mikhail discovered the organization behind the parties is called Burning Roses, and the women they provide are paid whores. They are not parties in the usual sense of the word, they are full-blown fucking orgies and if I am to gain any credibility with these men, I must prove I’m as depraved as they are.
If anything, it reassures me because now I know why my father insisted on only one woman to accompany him. He was firm that he wouldn’t share, and they left before the evening turned to debauchery. I have my example and I intend on following in his footsteps because the last thing I want to do with my evening is fuck endless whores just to earn membership to a fucking club.
CHAPTER 3
ELLIE
Iwake from an amazing dream where I’m lying on a tropical island surrounded by blissful solitude. I have a smile on my face that quickly disappears when I don’t see my usual view.
Where am I?
I sit, blinking furiously in the hope I’m still dreaming, but as I pinch myself, the pain tells me I’m not.
My eyes widen as I stare around a room straight out of the fairytale books.
It’s all in white.
I mean, every single thing in this room is white.
Did I die?
Is this heaven because it’s certainly looking that way?
The bed I’m lying on is so comfortable I could be sitting on a cloud.
The silk sheets rest against the palm of my hand and caress my skin. The drapes at the window are white silk and the chandelier above my head sparkles as the light filters through and catches on the crystals.
White walls, white carpet and white furniture.
There is zero color in this room, and I blink in astonishment. Along with the color, even the dust must be white because the surfaces gleam as if they are freshly polished and the heady scent of white roses fills the air.
This must be paradise.