Chapter 68: Party

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The fateful night came. Kieran found he wasn't nearly as excited about it as he had been when he asked off from work. How could he be, when he wasn't exactly the same person anymore? Now he thrived off of duties and responsibilities, not mischief and playfulness.

That wouldn't stop him from trying to go back to how he had been in the past.

At least in the past he hadn't cared what happened to him or anyone around him. It made life easier to bear. Drowning himself in worldly pleasures had been a lifestyle. Now, it seemed more like a coping mechanism.

Kieran didn't care.

This caliber of soiree required a better costume than the ones Kieran usually wore. He pulled a pair of black slacks and a black silk shirt out from the back of his closet. It had been a while since he put them to use.

It didn't matter how much money you didn't have at these kinds of parties. It only mattered how much money they thought you had. High-priced clothes and a little grooming were all it took to fool people into believing the lie of wealth. Kieran had used that to his advantage too many times to count.

If he was ever going to pay off Tawny's debts, he would have to use it again.

Kieran slipped out of his apartment before Tawny returned, leaving her only a note that said he would be late getting back. Tawny had never asked questions about that before. He doubted she would ask this time, either.

Kieran steeled his nerves, armed himself with the invitation card, and climbed into his vehicle. The gas tank was only half full, but that was more than enough to get him to the location and back.

Pushing his nagging conscience to the back of his mind, Kieran headed for the party of the year.

The host had rented out a full club, a not-so-humble brag about their income. Or, like Kieran, maybe they just had a decent persona established. Kieran didn't know one way or another. He wasn't there for the host, anyway.

He was there because of the kind of party this rented club held.

Tonight, all the rich and beautiful and powerful would accumulate in one room. Tonight, the party was meant to make matches, if only for one night. And Kieran needed a new cash cow.

A sharp stabbing pain in his heart brought Kieran up short of the entrance. Even the thought of lumping Naomi into the category of "cash cow" caused that kind of reaction. If he knew it was going to be like this, would Kieran have let her go so easily?

If I didn't have Tawny, maybe this would have played out differently. Kieran sucked in a breath, steeled himself to move forward, and stalked toward the club's entrance.

The bouncer at the door took a ten-second look at Kieran's invitation, sized him up once, and finally stepped aside.

"Enjoy your night," the bouncer offered as he handed the invitation back.

Kieran stuffed it into his inner breast pocket. "You too."

The bouncer gave a grunt of reciprocation, maybe a thanks or maybe a dismissive noise. Kieran couldn't tell and it didn't matter.

Inside, the club vibrated with the thumping of a bass beat. Kieran stepped out of the entry hall and into the inner room.

A DJ bounced and danced along with the music, throwing her hands up when it called for it. The dance floor housed dozens of couples that Kieran didn't want to watch. Alcohol flowed freely and the guests imbibed it as quickly as it hit their glasses. Kieran didn't know what would happen later, but he assumed it would only get rowdier.

Sofas had been set up around the perimeter, a semi-safe place for guests to sit and observe their surroundings. Or for predators to choose their prey.

Kieran retrieved a glass of wine that he had little intention of drinking, then slunk off to a corner sofa to scan the arena.

Everyone who had been invited possessed a high-profile job or occupation. Kieran spotted actresses, singers, and billionaires all mingling with ill intentions in their eyes. All for the better. It would make it easier for him to choose someone to milk for their millions.

He was no stranger to this kind of lion's den.

An overexuberant rookie actress sidled toward him. Kieran quickly wrote her off from his list, but he allowed her presence for the moment. All he had to do was ignore her and she would walk away.

A female CEO with short hair and stilettos too high for anyone was also a no on Kieran's list. She looked like she had come to eat someone. Kieran had never fancied cannibalism.

Whatever the outcome, he had all night to make a move.

Since those on the dance floor already had their eyes on a partner, Kieran swung his gaze to the ring of sofas. Some uncomfortable-looking guests were clearly friends dragged along for the fun. Others were doing the same thing as Kieran. None caught his interest.

Kieran swung his gaze up to the balcony seating above the dance floor. The host would take a seat up there, no doubt. Those who threw this kind of party liked to overlook their kingdom.

Similar sofas had been set there, but only one mattered. Because Kieran had a sixth sense, and he hated himself for it.

Annoying Oliver sat center-stage, a smug grin on his face and his arm around a woman's shoulders.

The woman was swathed in draping black velvet from neck to knee, her hair long and straight around her shoulders. A beam of light wafted across her face, and all Kieran'ssuspicions were confirmed. Because he could recognize her in a sea of familiar faces. Could sense her even in the most crowded street. Though she didn't seem to see him, Kieran saw her.

Naomi.

An unparalleled anger rose up in Kieran's veins, directed at the boy by her side. The host of the party, if Kieran didn't miss his guess. Kieran should have asked long ago about Oliver's last name. Maybe then he would have recognized the heir to the Bettencourt fortune.

An heir who had the audacity to bring naive, innocent Naomi to a place like this.

Kieran balled a fist against the sofa beneath him. He couldn't get involved. No, he shouldn't. But he didn't know if he could focus knowing that Annoying Oliver had ill intentions when it came to Naomi Rowe. Kieran didn't deserve her. But neither did Oliver Bettencourt.

Something had to be done.  

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