Author's Note:
Well, it's college exam crunch time; don't expect timely updates. *shrugs* Welcome to the time where I say, "Life is getting in the way." You'll have to just hope Sho-dono and I get time to write the next chapter or it could be as long as a month before you get an update. And, yes, I'm aware of how ridiculously short this chapter is; no need to comment on it. (This isn't meant to be mean; I just really need to pass my exams so I can get those TA jobs next year…)
Chapter 27
Why did I volunteer myself for this?, Sophie griped mentally. I'm dressed like a bloody hooker!...Maybe not a hooker but definitely like a high-priced fetish tart. She was clothed in a skin-tight, black leather cat suit with a dark red bustier and boots. The mark was the CFO for Blackthorn & Moonwood Industries – Elspeth's and Ambrose's largest money-maker; Ambrose was the official CEO. Said CFO, Marcus Skinner, frequented Leather and Lace, a secret fetish club that tailored to those with money and a need for discretion that was hidden directly below the very exclusive club, Cantarella a Bellezza; where the grifter was waiting to 'get close to the man' as the vampiress had put it while grinning in a smug, sadistic fashion. She'd inserted herself as one Mistress Insidia and was seated at one of the tables awaiting Skinner's arrival.
Sophie shifted in her seat as a cool puff of air brushed over the back of her neck, "You're beautiful," a deep voice rumbled behind her, encouraging her to turn and see the man standing behind her. She could barely conceal her shock when the man turned out to be the vampire Ambrose. He was smiling - no, grinning like a predator about to pounce upon its prey was a better description. Tall, dark haired with English, not, corpse, pale skin and deep blue eyes made Ambrose a handsome, seductive package that Sophie Devereaux strangely...didn't feel any attraction for. For while the man's face was expressing emotion (albeit a rather unholy one) his eyes were devoid of life.
Sophie shifted subtly, allowing the bejeweled necklace, unhappily lent to her by a certain assassin, clasped about her throat to catch the light, and the vampire's attention. As soon as Ambrose's eyes refocused on her she turned away with a taunting smile on her lips...and waited. "Oh, don't turn away, beautiful." The grifter closed her eyes a feigned disinterest. "Come now," he continued, moving so they were once again face to face, "do not be so cruel as to spurn an admirer's compliments."
"An admirer who cannot create a better compliment than simply 'you're beautiful' hardly seems worth it," she teased, turning to the bartender and signaling for another drink. "Pardon a lad who finds your physical appearance so distracting that he cannot even conceive of a better compliment." This time the smile seemed to glimmer fleetingly in the Scot's eyes before fading. "It also happens that my previous praise is utter truth," he added as an afterthought. As Sophie's drink arrived she lifted it daintily by the stem and gave the man a playful, patronizing smile before taking a small over-emphasized sip of her martini.
The midnight haired male sighed pathetically, before settling himself on the stool beside her. "Please, tell me what I can do to get your attention, Mistress."
The grifter just smiled and stood from the artistically carved satinwood bar and swept slowly, languidly towards the dance floor on the level above. After a few steps she paused and glanced back over her shoulder at the still seated man...and winked.
Elsewhere, Wolf was cursing up a storm and Nathan Ford was having trouble concealing his rage; couldn't she just stick to the plan? Yassen watched over the pair's shoulders as Sophie led the vampire onto the dance floor, "Well this is unexpected."
"But doable, Ambrose has always had a thing for brunettes - especially those of the more mature variety," Iraya commented.
Nathan growled, "This isn't part of the plan-"
"Let her do as she sees fit," Eliot muttered, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully, "She hasn't been wrong yet."
"Huh..." the vampiress cocked her head like a curious puppy, "she doesn't find him attractive..."
"What?" the four men chorus as they turn to look at the High Lady with mixed looks of curiosity and disbelief.
"She's not interested in him; the body language is wrong...she...pities him."
Yassen turned back to watch the grifter more carefully and immediately saw what Iraya was talking about, "Let's hope he doesn't figure that out."
The mastermind pursed his lips angrily and clenched Eliot's shoulder hard enough for the hitter to restrain a pained groan. The assassin glanced at the Southerner and killer with a slight frown, "Perhaps it would be best to let Eliot remain without visible bruises for the time being, Ford." There were chips of ice floating along his voice.
"As you wish," he replied, equally as chilly as the Russian.
At the edge of the dance floor Sophie turned back to watch as Ambrose stalked over to her and held out a hand in offering, "Would it please you to honor me with a dance, milady?"
"But of course," she answered teasingly, a hint of faux lust lacing her words. She almost felt bad for doing this to the man - his dead, passionless eyes evoked only pity from her and it was hard to con someone you felt sorry for - but the Brit reminded herself of what he'd done and hardened her resolve. She gave him a sultry smile, "Do I need to punish you...?"
"Ambrose, Mistress; my name is Ambrose and there is no current need for correction. I am yours to command, my lady."
"Hmm, that's unfortunate. You look like you'd be fun." She winked before turning to examine some of the other couples.
A calloused hand gently turned her head back to the vampire, "Please look at me, Mistress."
Sophie looked him up and down with a casual eye before smirking, "Why? There's not much to look at other than expensive fabric and while I do appreciate the effort..." He frowned and a genuine look of hurt crossed his face before it was just as quickly smoothed under a mask of false pouting mixed with indulgence. The grifter lifted her hand and patted Ambrose's cheek gently before taking his wrist, "Buy me another drink?"
He smiled sweetly before escorting her to a private table on the second tier (the room was set up with the Dungeon in the basement – door guarded by two intimidating ex-Mossad agents – a first floor where the 'less affluent' could dance and drink, and an even more exclusive second tier where only those with a platinum or black card could dine). Ambrose pulled back her chair and dramatically bowed as she seated herself; the Brit had to stifle a girlish giggle at his chivalrous behavior.
Once the pair were seated a waiter dressed in close cut leather pants and vest, no shirt, appeared at Ambrose's shoulder and inclined his head slightly, waiting patiently for the vampire to notice him.
"Yes?" he inquired after silently checking with Sophie for permission.
"Would Sir and Madam like to order?" The man inquired politely, silently slipping a notepad and pen from parts unknown and holding them at the ready. Sophie ordered a simple salad for herself while Ambrose ordered himself a Bloody Mary and it was only as the waiter was finishing up taking their orders that he glanced straight at the grifter and with a shock the woman realized that she was looking at Yassen putting his skills to use. The assassin glared slightly at the Brit before slipping away; the vampire was quick to turn his attention to Sophie upon the "waiter's" departure.
"So, Mistress, what do you wish me to do to gain your pleasure?"
She sat back, fingers lightly tapping her lips. She was about to speak, another waiter appeared with a portable phone on a tray. "It is Lady Elspeth," he said simply, extending his arm. Ambrose flinched slightly at the mention of his "sister's" name before he reached out and took the mobile and speaking a simple "Hello?" into the mouth-piece, a look of pain obvious on his face. Sophie was unable to overhear the conversation but the grimace upon the vampire's face was enough to tell her that it wasn't pleasant. After he hung up and handed the cell to the waiter (who also seemed to vanish), she lightly placed her hand on his arm.
She didn't have to say a word before Ambrose spoke, "My sister... she wishes me to return home..." His eyes were glaring a hole in the table when Yassen reappeared with Sophie's salad and Ambrose's drink; it was obvious he'd heard something she had not: there was a note taped beneath the rim of her bowl saying simply "We can use him."
"When does she want you to return?" She smiled fondly, "If you have time, there are some people I would like you to meet."
