Page 23 of Venom and Lace
I smiled, tight-lipped, and held my hand out over my plate for everyone to see. “As I was saying, I am the owner of this fabulous ring.” Iva and Mrs. Covington eyed my ring appreciatively.
The man to my right went next. Herbert Bendle III—although his friends at the country club liked to call him Hewie—was owner of Bendle Construction, along with his son, Herbert Bendle IV. He seemed nice enough, but I drowned out most of what he was saying, still irritated with Ryzen.
Covington looked at the twins and nodded, and they introduced themselves. I didn’t miss the scowl Lorraine gave her husband at being overlooked. I was noticing a theme here, one that I had seen for many years. Men like my father, and surely Covington, thought themselves to be superior to women. And if I hadn’t been contractually obligated to help Ryzen, I would have loved to give this cowboy a piece of my mind.
The twins, Scot and Michael Green, were, to my surprise, triplets. Their brother Nick could not make it tonight. The trio were also real estate developers like Ryzen and owned SNM Real Estate.
I bit my bottom lip to stop the laugh trying to escape. I guessed for someone not surrounded by sex toys and sexual content all day, the initials SNM were pretty innocent, but I couldn’t stop the image forming in my head of Scot, Nick and Michael dressed in leather pants, shirtless with whips and spanking paddles in their hands. I giggled into my glass of champagne and caught Cian’s eyes on me again. He had a smirk on his face as if he could read my mind, and I turned my nose up at him and looked away.
You could feel the energy in the room shift when it was Cian’s turn. Ryzen visibly tensed and gripped the stem of his champagne glass so tightly I thought it might snap in half. Iva’s and Mrs. Covington’s demeanor also changed. They leaned forward and gave him their full attention. I poked at the peas on my plate with my fork, imagining they were little Cian heads.
Cian Blackwood. Real estate mogul. Thirty-four years old and sole owner of the Blackwood Group. He specialized in commercial real estate development and was the second-largest property owner in Chicago—behind Ryzen, that was. He had an air of confidence when he spoke and commanded the room’s attention with little effort. He did not look like your typical stuffy suit, though. Several tattoos ran down his arms, and the scar across his right cheek made him look downright menacing.
It did not go unnoticed by Ryzen that Cian was staring solely at me when he spoke. Ryzen put his arm around me and traced little circles on my shoulder as I continued my attack on the peas. The sensation of his fingers gently trailing across my skin had me squeezing my thighs together. Cian narrowed his eyes at where Ryzen touched me, and I couldn’t understand why it was bothering him so much.
Was this how it had been before between them? Ryzen had told me very little about what happened, but after seeing them in the same room together, it seemed like a non-stop pissing contest. A contest I really wanted no part in.
To say the rest of dinner was boring would be an understatement. Ryzen spent most of the time speaking with Covington and the bondage brothers, while Hubert spent a good twenty minutes explaining the different types of tomatoes he liked to plant in his garden. He was a family man down to the core, similar to what Covington appeared to be. I couldn’t help but think that Ryzen and the others would eat him alive when it came to winning this deal. I felt a little bad for him, so I listened in earnest and tried to ask questions, which led to another conversation about what type of soil to use in your garden.
Cian sat mostly unbothered, answering questions now and then when asked. He seemed to enjoy my suffering, as I caught a few smirks here and there when Hubert was getting really riled up.
When Iva mentioned a fundraising family extravaganza, I jumped at the opportunity to turn in her direction and ask her more questions.
“So, what do people do to fundraise?” I hoped I didn’t sound like an idiot. Were fundraising family extravaganzas a common thing among rich people? Did my own family do this kind of crap and never invite me? My head swam with possibilities.
Iva grinned from ear to ear and tapped the tips of her fingers together in front of her. “See, Nova, what you need to understand is that I have twelve aunts and uncles and over thirty cousins. We’re a very generous, very competitive bunch.”
My mouth fell to the floor when I realized how big the Covington family was. Iva giggled and nodded her head towards the bar area in the back of the room. I stood up and followed her, smiling reassuringly at Ryzen when he looked at me with a question on his face.
She reached behind the counter for a bottle of whiskey. “He keeps the good stuff hidden back here, the old sneak.” She winked and poured a shot into a glass. The liquid burned going down, and I held my glass out for more. “OK, here’s what you need to know.”
The fundraising extravaganza was an annual event they did every year to not only spend time together as a family, but give back to their communities. Iva stressed it was very competitive, and you had to keep an eye out for cheaters. Especially for Cousin Jasper—he was a sneaky one. And don’t even get her started on Penelope, who was notorious for sabotage.
Normally certain events were for family only, like scavenger hunts, a costume party, and a board game-slash-movie night. This was for bonding purposes. Although she hinted that since this was a special occasion, the people in the room tonight would most likely take part in every event, both family and business. Now, for the business fundraising part, they would have a casino night, an art show, a cooking competition, and a silent auction, just to name a few. Covington invited only the elite of the elite in the business world each year, guaranteeing they would raise over a million dollars alone in just one week.
Like I said earlier, there were rich people, and then there were the Covingtons.
I leaned in closer and lowered my voice to a whisper. “But I don’t understand. Why doesn’t he just sell the hotels to someone in the family?” I didn’t want to cross any boundaries, especially because we had just met, and she had been so nice all evening. But it seemed like the elephant in the room, and now was a good time as any to squash it.
Iva sighed and glanced back at Covington, then back to me. “Nobody wants it. Except me. Everyone has a part in it. Some aunts and uncles run the property management, some run the maintenance, some cousins handle all the food service. Everyone has their fingers dipped in somewhere. But nobody wants to own it. And if I’m being honest, Nova, between us gals, those are terms that are going to be negotiated into the contract. So most will still be a part of it, without the responsibility of running the entire operation.” She downed her shot. “He’s just set in his old ways, so I just go along with it until the time is right. I have to prove to him that I can handle it on my own. So here we are.”
“I’m sorry if I upset you.” I trailed my finger around the rim of my glass. “It sounds like you would do a great job at running everything.” A stab of guilt formed in my stomach. Whose side was I on again? The sweet Southern belle’s or the handsome business mogul’s?
Speaking of the Devil, Ryzen walked over and placed his hand on my back. “Desserts are about to be served.” He grinned that panty-melting grin and tugged me close, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “I hope you saved room for crème brûlée, pumpkin.”
I scrunched up my nose and poked him under his jacket, where Iva couldn’t see. “Oh, you. You know how I love my desserts.” We were going to have to have a talk about this “pumpkin” business. Couldn’t he call me “princess,” or “honey pot,” or even “good girl?” No, for some reason, when he looked at me, he thought “orange gourd.”
“You guys are adorable.” Iva giggled and poured us each another shot. “One day I’ll find my special someone who looks at me the way you guys look at each other.” She sighed and threw back her drink. “But for now, crème brûlée will have to do.”
When we got back to the table, I noticed Cian was gone. Good riddance. The last thing I needed tonight was another argument or a chance to accidentally blow my cover. We ate our dessert and ended the night with another glass of champagne. Well, I did—Ryzen passed, saying he had a long day ahead of him tomorrow and needed to be fresh. I stood in the foyer with Iva while I waited for Ryzen to pull the car around. She squeezed me tight in her arms when it was time to go, and I promised to call her for a lunch date soon.
I didn’t know if it was such a good idea. The one thing I hated most in the world was when someone lied to me, and I felt horrible for lying to her, even though we had just met. But maybe we could somehow be friends, and she would never know it had been a lie. Maybe, or maybe not. Only time would tell on this one.
Ryzen honked out front, and I squeezed her back just as hard before heading out the door. I tugged my shawl tight around my shoulders and headed down the steps. The smell of smoke had me turning my head to see none other than Cian leaning against the porch rail, a cigar hanging from his fingers.
“Sleep tight, little mouse.” The red cherry burned brightly as he inhaled, and I glared at him.
“Sleep badly, snake ass,” I snapped as I stomped down the stairs. Snake ass? Snake ass! That was my excellent comeback? He let out a deep chuckle, and I was tempted to turn around and give him the finger, but decided against it.