Page 21 of Venom and Lace
“Enough of that, young man.” She pulled back and patted him on the cheek. “Call me Lorraine or you’ll hurt my little ol’ feelings.” She had a heavy Southern accent, and she reminded me of one of those Southern belles.
“Allow me to introduce my fiancée.” Ryzen grabbed me by the hand and tugged me closer. “Nova, Lorraine. Lorraine, Nova.”
I returned her warm smile and laughed when she pulled me in for a hug, too. “Oh, look at you, sweet thing.” The shawl slipped down my arms and her eyes widened at my tattoos. “Looks like you got yourself a troublemaker, Ryzen.” She cackled and squeezed my hand in hers. “Gotta keep him on his toes, right? Everyone’s down the hall.”
I could tell she meant no harm by her “troublemaker” joke, so I took no offense. Besides, I was used to people having that reaction when they saw I had several tattoos. I had learned long ago to not let it get to me.
The shawl slipped down my shoulders again and I yanked it off as we entered the room. Ryzen glanced at me, his nostrils flaring, but he said nothing. I smiled from ear to ear as we approached a group of people huddled around a miniature version of what looked like several hotel buildings.
Ryzen went around the group and introduced me as his fiancée to everyone. I was surprised by Covington. I didn’t know what I had been expecting, but a six-foot-tall, pot-bellied cowboy was not it. He was also not shy about telling me tattoos were ridiculous-looking and he didn’t understand why people got them.
Ryzen nodded in agreement and pulled me closer. “She went through a phase, but I still love her no matter what.”
I jammed my elbow into his side and nodded at Covington. “I’msolucky to have found him.” Ryzen was going to pay for that comment later.
I instantly liked Covington’s granddaughter, Iva, who pulled me to the side the second Ryzen wasn’t looking. She was in her late twenties, looked very similar to Lorraine minus the poofed-up hair, and had the sweetest voice I had ever heard. It was just her Southern charm, she joked. After twenty minutes of talking, it felt like I had known her for years. You know, some people are like that. You meet and have this instant connection. That was how it was with Iva.
Ryzen looked pleased as he watched us talk and made his way over to us.
“Y’all look adorable,” Iva cooed and sipped wine from her glass. “Tell me how you two lovebirds met.”
“At a restaurant.” Ryzen sipped his whisky, just as I said, “In an elevator.”
Iva glanced between us and raised her eyebrows.
I cleared my throat. “In an elevator at a restaurant, I mean.” I laughed and kept laughing until Ryzen pinched me. We had talked about this already and agreed to keep it as close to the truth as possible. “Can you point me to the ladies’ room?”Let’s try a new tactic, like escaping and letting him deal with this question.
“Down the hall, fourth door on the left.” Iva pointed towards a door on the other side of the room, and I headed in that direction.
I would have to talk to him about this. We would need a whole new story about how we’d met now, since he’d gone rogue and said a restaurant. I could only hope there would not be too many surprise interrogations tonight, otherwise we were thoroughly screwed. And not in a good way.
Five minutes later, and still with no sign of a bathroom, I retraced my steps and realized that Iva had pointed me down the wrong hall. I threw open the doors to a room that I prayed to the bathroom gods had a toilet.
But nope. Not even close.
I was beginning to think these people had lost their marbles. There were rich people, and then there were the Covingtons. I closed the doors behind me and stared down the long room. Gawked is a more appropriate term. You don’t just stare at a replica of Michelangelo’s ceiling of the Sistine Chapel; you gawk at it. That was exactly what I was looking at.
Dimmed lights illuminated the walls and ceiling, giving the illusion the room was alive. My heels clicked on the mosaic floor as I walked down the corridor, taking in everything from Noah’s Ark to the creation of Earth. I closed my eyes and breathed deep. The room had a smell to it that reminded me of leather-bound books.
“Beautiful.”
My heart jumped in my throat at the baritone voice, and I half-turned, half-stumbled in the direction of the noise. A man leaned against a pillar, half in shadow, arms crossed casually against his chest. His eyes roamed up my body, pausing for a moment at the slit running up both sides of my dress. I was beginning to rethink picking this one to wear tonight, as it clung to my stomach like a second skin. Juliet had talked me out of wearing the body-shaping granny panties underneath, saying that I didn’t need it. In her words, I was a “badass, with a badass booty and a badass stomach, with an even more badass rack,” none of which I needed to hide. She knew exactly how to hype me up. I had carried that confidence with me all night, and there was no reason to stop that now.
When his eyes lingered on my cleavage a little too long, I cleared my throat and pointed to my chest, then my face in a swooping motion. “My eyes are up here, pal.”
He let out a deep rumbling laugh and closed the distance between us. “Ah, she bites.”
“She also carries mace.” My voice trailed off as he stopped inches in front of me. My so-called confidence disappeared instantly as he towered over me. A jagged scar slashed down his right cheek and disappeared beneath the collar of his black button-up shirt. He looked—dangerous. And delicious. Like he should be on a beach being hand-fed grapes by a harem of women while being fanned, but also like he could fight a whole bar full of bikers and still kick all their asses. The smell of him, rich cologne with a hint of spice, invoked images of us sweaty and tangled in his bedsheets.
Down, girl.
Damn, I needed to get laid. And remember to carry my mace.
His dark eyes focused on my lips as I involuntarily darted my tongue out to moisten them. Something about him was familiar. I took a step back and put a hand on my hip, narrowing my eyes at him.
“I know you. You’re that man, the one Ryzen was arguing with at the boutique.” Guilt for my instant attraction to him began to build in my stomach. “You’re my sister!” I accused.
He raised his eyebrows and gave me the look. You know the look. The one where people think you might be a crazy person, but they aren’t sure because you don’t exactly look the part. I threw my hands up and sputtered, “You’re the homewrecker!”