Angels & Sinners: The Motor City Edition (37 page)

Winking one of her electric blue eyes, she said, “Absolutely
everything
has happened. Come.”

The main room of the club was decked out like a fairy wood. “This is gorgeous, Natalia.”

“When you meet Gabriella, you’ll understand.”

Taking her hand, she led the way around the dance floor to a small seating area. Several couches and chairs had been positioned in a semi-circle.

Hugging Marcy to her side, she announced, “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Marcella Canfield, a wonderful friend who has emerged from the ashes. Of course you know Hudson and I believe you’ve met Max and Micah.” The two beautiful men nodded with gentle expressions. “This is their Riya, her best friend Tawny, and her men Zach and Quinn.”

Guiding her around the group, she shook hands and murmured pleasantries. Riya and Tawny were animated and their intelligence was obvious.

She’d done business with Max in the past and all of them traveled in the same charity circuit. Zach complimented her on a food program she’d been working on in the Tri-State area and she thanked him in surprise.

Quinn added, “We’re part of the food division. The entire project is inspired and we’re proud to be involved. Your ideas have a very long reach, Miss Canfield.”

“Marcy has one of the most brilliant business minds I’ve ever met.” Hudson stood to kiss her cheek, squeezing her shoulder with a firm nod. “It’s good you came.”

He was a man of few words and it always shocked her when he used them in praise. He didn’t give it often or cheaply. They weren’t more than a dozen years apart in age but Marcy had wished more than once that her father had been as protective as the real estate tycoon had been from the day she went to work for him.

Natalia pulled her away and stopped in front of a woman with curly black hair that cascaded around her upper body. She sat in a slim wheelchair.

“This is Gabriella Hernandez.”

Holding out her hand, she was struck by the woman’s brilliant smile. “It’s so good to meet you, Miss Canfield. Natalia and Hudson hoped we’d get a chance to meet. He told me you might need some redesign work done.”

Nodding, she took the warm hand gently. “You’re the graphic artist? He showed me some of your work and I was truly impressed. Please call me Marcy.”

“Then call me Brie. Join us.” She gestured to the low sofa beside her

Lowering, Marcy was astonished at the way the woman seemed to glow. “I understand the fairy wood now.” Brie’s laughter floated on the air. “You’re like a magical creature or something.”

“She gets that reaction often,” Hudson said from Brie’s other side. “How are you holding up, Marcy?”

She caught him up and several of the men drew her into conversation about the company, Hudson’s involvement, and the planned restructuring. The four males relaxed with their women between them and gave her fresh perspective on several issues.

“Consider having Tawny take a look at your virtual security. She charges a fortune but if you have any holes, she can plug them.”

The redhead clasped her hands beneath her chin dramatically. “Hudson, you’ll make me swoon.”

There was a pause and he added, “She’s certifiable but it’s the risk you take to get the best.”

While they talked, Brie removed a sketchpad and began to draw. Riya chuckled when Marcy noticed. “Any talk of business, Brie and I zone out.” She shrugged. “We can handle the logical but we gravitate to the creative.”

“I don’t have a creative bone in my body.” Soon, Marcy was unable to follow the discussion because she was fascinated at the way Brie’s pencils flew over the page. “You’re amazing.” Turning the sketch, Marcy found herself looking at a portrait of herself in profile.

“I’ll add a bit of color to capture your strawberry blonde hair and the lovely blue-green of your eyes but I like the initial feel of it.”

Glancing up, she stared into Brie’s eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

Tawny snorted. “You won’t again. I can fucking guarantee that. Her hand is twitching to finish that sketch. We’ll all do lunch and give you the down and dirty scoop.”

“I’d like that.”

“Natalia said you emerged from the ashes.” Sitting up, she rubbed her hands together. The better light from the new position revealed a scattering of freckles on her skin. “That means you should celebrate. What do you drink?”

“Double whiskey, neat.”

“Oh, I
like
you!”

CHAPTER THREE

An hour later, Marcy was buzzed and laughing harder than she’d ever laughed in her life. Natalia came back several times to check on them. At one point, she bent to kiss Hudson and Marcy’s eyes went wide. Standing up, the blonde winked and went back to mingle with her guests.

At her side, Brie whispered, “You really need
all
the news.”

“I’ve missed much more than I realized.”

“You have no idea but it’s an easy fix.” Immediately, Brie removed a cell phone from the bag beside her and they exchanged numbers. “This is our main group and you should be in it, Marcy.”

“I appreciate the welcome.”

“I warn you though, we can be ridiculous.” Whispering loudly, she pointed comically at Tawny. “Especially you-know-who . . . she has no filter.”

“
Hey
. . . wait, no, that’s right.”

Marcy grinned. “I spend my life around filtered people. The change is good.”

She felt comfortable with them, able to relax in ways she usually struggled to accomplish. She noticed that Hudson and Natalia were similarly affected. At one point, her gaze locked with the stern business mogul and he gave her a half smile.

“We are much the same, Marcella. You disconnected by necessity but you are still young. These women can help you ease the pressure. They almost force one to have a good time.”

“I’ll try not to put up a fight.”

“That’s best. Natalia will kidnap you without a word. Tawny fights dirty. Riya will gently logic you into conceding. Brie will bake and hug you into submission.” His evaluation set off a round of laughter and conversation. It was
marvelous
.

Near midnight, Marcy was feeling boneless. She was stretched out comfortably, chatting with Brie.

When the dark-haired woman saw her looking at the wheelchair, she explained, “I’m not paralyzed. I had an accident earlier this year. I’m still in physical therapy and I get tired easily. I’m getting stronger every day.” She tapped the padded arms. “I’ll be glad to be rid of this in a few months.”

“You have a great attitude.”

“So do you. By the way, there are a couple of men at your nine o’clock who seem completely taken with you. Do you know them?”

Casually turning her head, she saw two men at the bar who were, in fact, staring in their direction. They were vaguely familiar, attractive, and clearly wealthy.

Looking at Brie, she grinned. “They’re more than likely looking at
you
. I don’t inspire that sort of attention. I’m a bit stuffy.”

The artist laughed. “Stuffy . . . I think not. You’ve been a riot since you sat down. A few drinks, some good conversation, and your natural social butterfly appears with a flourish.”

Leaning closer, Brie added, “Remember, the expectation of who you’re
supposed
to be is not the same as who you
are
. You can be whoever you’d like, Marcy.” Cutting her eyes up and back again, she nodded. “They’re looking at
you
. Not me, not anyone else in our group. You.

“Men . . . confuse me. They make me feel uncomfortable in my skin.”

“That’s residual negativity leftover from past relationships that can be overcome. You should trust me on that one. Every person, every situation, is a fresh start. Do you dance?”

“I . . . only formal. I had to learn for events.”

Tawny’s mouth dropped open. Then she whispered, “A
protégé
. Riya, we haven’t had one in forever! Can we keep her?”

“Slow your roll, Red.” To the rest of the group, Riya murmured, “Does anyone know them personally? We can’t allow our new friend to fall into trouble.”

With a loud snort, Tawny quipped, “The hell we can’t. Some kinds of trouble are just what a woman needs in her life. Those two . . . oh yeah, they’d be the good kind of trouble.”

Hudson glanced up from his conversation with Micah. “Cousins from Dubai who are in possession of wealth that could buy all of us out of our respective lives.”

“Shut the fuck up . . . seriously?” Tawny asked a little too loudly.

He grinned and it wasn’t an expression that Marcy had ever seen him wear. “Seriously. They’ve been members of a similar club in Amsterdam for more than a decade. Natalia vets new members with a spectacular attention to detail—a habit I appreciate.”

Sipping her drink, Marcy relaxed against the sofa and all thoughts of the pair’s possible interest vanished instantly. The others stared at her.

“Wait. Are you playing hard to get?” The outgoing redhead had a confused look on her face. “Bitch, you’re not going to
introduce
yourself?”

Laughing, Marcy shook her head. “I’m a female known as the
repressed nerd type
who goes to work early and leaves late, a strong candidate for ending up a lonely spinster poring over stock reports and charity engagements, and who has no desire to ever have children. Trust me, I’m not their
type
.”

“Enlighten me on what you believe our
type
to be, Miss Canfield,” said an amused voice just behind her to the left. The accent was exotic, every word enunciated perfectly, and deep.

There was a chuckle and a similar voice to the right added, “I rather enjoy stock reports and charity engagements. Additionally, children are highly overrated, in my personal opinion.”

Meeting Tawny’s gaze across from her, she narrowed her eyes at being set up. The woman blew her
kisses
. Delicately clearing her throat, she sat up and made a half turn to peer over the couch. The sight of them up close was . . . disconcerting.

“Hello.”

Lifting her palm from the back of the couch, the first man kissed it. “I am Fahad Ghonim and this is my cousin Nuri Ghonim. Your reputation precedes you but media photos have
not
done you justice.”

Out of her element, Marcy said, “Reporters take me by surprise. I get nervous.”

For a long moment, the two men stared at her intently and she fought to control her blush the way she’d learned from one of her father’s advisors.

“A topic for another time. Allow us a few minutes of your time, Miss Canfield,” Nuri said.

Suddenly, she understood their focus on her. “Ah, business. In that, I can converse intelligently.” Tugging her hand from Fahad’s, she stood and walked confidently around the seating area, gesturing to a nearby table.

The men approached slowly and her understanding of their interest was instantly shaken. Even their walk exuded sexuality. From the corner of her eye, she saw the group watching the three of them with unconcealed curiosity.

The cousins stopped close enough for her to catch a delicate hint of cologne that went straight to her head. In her heels, they were almost the same height, putting them both around five-ten. There was a capability about them that told her what they lacked in height, they made up for in ferocity.

They wore slacks and dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up. She imagined suit jackets and ties had been discarded upon entering
Trois
. They didn’t strike her as the type to go without them.

Low enough that only she could hear, Nuri told her, “You are lovely.”

“Perhaps one day, we will discuss business with you, Miss Canfield but that is not tonight. At
this
moment, we wish to learn more about the woman we have admired for many years.”

“My father took my education and training seriously,” she replied automatically.

Fahad’s eyes met hers. “Our condolences on his death. He was a good man.”

“Thank you. I miss him.” She instantly blamed the alcohol for a statement that was unusually personal. It was rare that she mentioned anything about her feelings to people she didn’t know well. Even with closer acquaintances, she was intensely private.

They didn’t touch her but their fixed gazes gave her a similar sensation. No one had ever looked at her in such a way.

“Does our attention make you uncomfortable, Miss Canfield?” Fahad asked gently.

“Attention?”

“Attraction is a better word,” Nuri clarified.

Naturally cautious about how she presented herself to others, especially men, Marcy paused to consider her answer. “I’m unaccustomed but not uncomfortable.”

There was a long silence. “You are not accustomed to the attraction of men?”

“I am accustomed to being an acquisition. I am accustomed to being a means to an end. I am not accustomed to the attention
or
attraction of men whose wealth surpasses my own. No.”

A slow smile spread over Nuri’s face. “It is a feat that must be hellishly difficult to accomplish.”