Page 76 of Stroke of Shadows
“You’ll be fine,” he added when she remained where she was.
“Thanks,” she quietly replied, wiping her palms down the front of her long coat. Forcing a smile, she approached the door, the host looking up from her podium.
“Miss Beauchamp,” she greeted with a professional smile. “The rest of your party’s already arrived. Please follow me.”
You can do this, she thought to herself. She’d dealt with many overbearing and powerful men before. She’d be fine.
The dark interior was as opulent as expected from the outside, with its brass and wooden features that gave it an almost mystic forest aesthetic. Every table was occupied, mostly couples chatting over candlelight or a small group of friends enjoying a drink. The atmosphere was warm, welcoming. But not even that could help the unease that hummed beneath her skin like a swarm of angry bees.
Passing through a set of double doors, masculine laughter drowned out the general chatter. Several velvet sofas were pressed against the wall, with three men lounging back with their legs stretched. Beers were open on the small, circular table. As was a bag of white powder, a few lines still visible on the dark wood.
“Mr Halkins, Miss Beauchamp’s arrived.” The host seeming not to care about the drugs used so openly. “If there’s anything else, please call.” She didn’t acknowledge Harper as she closed the doors behind her, leaving her standing there with three strange men.
Their laughter quietened, all eyes turning to her. The two on the furthest sofa stood, seeming to wait for the one who remained sitting to speak.
“So this is my bride to be,” he said, his brown eyes meeting Harpers. “I’m Cruz.” His face was almost identical to that of his father’s. Handsome, with dark blond hair rather than white.
“Cruz,” she greeted politely, flicking her gaze between the three men. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else.”
“Ah, these are just my boys.” Cruz grinned, leaning forward. “Trust me, you’ll get to know them very well soon enough.”
The two other men chuckled, and pure ice skimmed along Harper’s spine.
Cruz nodded, a smirk curving his lips as he assessed her slowly. “Tom, take her coat.”
The man to her left approached, yanking the coat from her shoulders and throwing it to the floor. It left her in a dress, the fabric an expensive silk that her uncle had chosen specifically. White.
“She seems eager to marry you,” the man on the right laughed.
Harper remained calm. “I didn’t realise your friends would be joining us for dinner.”
Please make them leave, she mentally added.
“They’re not.” Cruz cocked his head, eyes settling on her breasts. “I think I should spend some quality time with my fiancée.”
Tom sniggered, only to be shoved by the third man towards the exit. Harper watched them leave until the door clicked closed once more. But even then, she couldn’t relax.
“Take a seat.” Cruz swept out his arm, inviting her to the other side of the same sofa.
Steeling her spine, she carefully sat down, placing her clutch bag on her knees.
“Seems my father was right.” His brown eyes danced with amusement. “You truly are beautiful.”
Harper kept herself straight, conscious of his attention darting continuously between her breasts and face. “Thank you.”
“But I find it strange that I can’t find anything about you. I’ve heard of the Beauchamps because honestly, who the fuck hasn’t? But not you.”
She hadn’t heard of him, either. Or his father. They weren’t people her uncle usually socialised with. “I’m a very private person.”
“Apparently so,” he laughed, but the sound didn’t seem to contain any humour. “Do you want a line?”
Harper blinked, confused by the question. “I’m sorry, a line?”
“You’re cute.” Cruz pulled out a note, rolling it up before he bent over the table. Starting at the bottom of a white line, he sniffed the powder. “You’re too rigid. Nervous. Take a hit.”
“Oh, no thanks. That’s not something—”
He threw her the scrunched up fifty pound note. “I said, ‘take a hit.’”