Keeping Secrets with the Billionaire

Chapter 1: The Andromeda

Keava POV

The air itself in this club was worth more money than I had ever made in my entire life. Blue and purple neon lights lit the club while hidden smoke machines provided an atmosphere that was dreamlike, not that any of the rich and elite patrons were sober enough to appreciate the ambience.

I adjusted my dress and made my way to the bar. It was considerably shorter than what I was accustomed to wearing, but I had to blend in. This only worked if I was invisible.

“What can I get for you, ma’am?” Asked the well chiselled and finely dressed bartender.

I was not accustomed to being called “ma’am” but I couldn’t display any form of discomfort while I was here. This had to be my element for the next hour or so, depending on whether or not I could get what I needed.

This normally wasn’t hard for me, playing the part. It was just that some parts were harder than others. A devoted daughter was one, an entitled heiress was another. But to be anything else would be far too risky. No one questioned where young heiresses came from, only that there was always a scattering of them across the world, and occasionally, they would pop up in front of you.

“Apple martini, please, “ I said confidently, not making eye contact with the bartender as I was sure a lady with status would do. The most important part that I had learnt from playing this role was that not only did I have to become invisible, but I had to act as though some people were invisible too.

I didn’t see wait staff, servants ,cleaners, or hired hands, just security–and only when it was necessary.

I leaned against the bar while I waited for my drink and scanned the Andromeda, the luxurious social hub for New York’s high society. It was an infamous place where only the rich, famous, and influential could get in, and where the press were strictly forbidden from entering. Therefore an investigative journalist like myself was more than unwelcome.

Here the elite patrons could indulge in proclivities that they would normally avoid due to the scrutiny of the public eye, and it was here that I would find my target.

The bartender handed me my martini and I sipped it gracefully, careful not to drink too much. Strangely, that piece fit in both with the character I was playing at the moment, and my true self. The wealthy ordered drinks without a limit, they let it flow with the futile hope that the night will never end. I ordered it to play a part, and definitely not get drunk.

The lights and smoke made it difficult to see but my eyes eventually spotted the man I was here to investigate.

Edwin Salazar: esteemed congressman and current candidate for the next mayor of New York City. Salazar’s record was squeaky clean with no infractions to speak of. He was a man who promoted family values, environmental awareness and anti-drug policies…and yet here he was with an escort on each arm and white substance on his face that was definitely not from powdered donuts.

He was a difficult man to get close to. I had spent the last three weeks gathering intel from various sources on ways to just get inside this club without raising an eyebrow. Eventually I had gotten support from a European philanthropist, Margret Orhzov who had a rivalry with Salazar. She had agreed to lend me the false identity of her niece, a socialite who was the sole heir to her fortune.

I took another sip of my drink and lit a cigarette, another useful way of blending in.

“Hi,” an overconfident male voice called to me. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

I glanced to my left, my eyes landing on a blond man in his early twenties. No doubt a trust fund kid with way too much time on his hands. He was high to the heavens, his pupils dilated to the point where they were as round as saucers, but still managed to keep his state of dress from revealing that fact.

Edwin Salazar could learn a thing or two from him.

“I just arrived from Barcelona,” I said in the mixed Spanish and British accent that I had spent the last week practicing. I had used it before, so it wasn’t that bad, just rusty.

“Well this dump is all the brighter with your presence,” he said flirtatiously while leaning in. “I’m Max Von Licht the Third.”

The way he said his name was as if I was supposed to know who he was. It almost made me roll my eyes. Maybe he didn’t know that he wasn’t in Europe any longer.

“Emilia Elizabeth Orhzov,” I said, exuding my indifference towards him.

This was not the distraction I needed right now, I needed to keep my eyes on Salazar and find a way into his circle.

But I thought twice before I dismissed my new companion entirely, perhaps dear Max could actually be useful.

“Perhaps you could tell me who’s who at this party,” I said snobbishly, “I am dying to get to know some “decent” company that isn’t an old washed-up actor with a foot fetish.”

Max grinned, obviously seeing himself as victorious in his flirting.

“Well then, allow me to buy you a drink and I’ll introduce you to everyone worth knowing…and perhaps we can have a private party later,” he winked.

Wow. I fought off a grimace.

“Perhaps we shall,” I withheld the urge to puke while I flashed him a seductive smile.

All I had to do was smile and touch his arm suggestively every few minutes and he began to talk without taking a breath. Max was a gossip and had dirt on almost everyone it seemed. I could not have found a better person to speak to at this party even if I had gone searching for him myself. After about thirty minutes of his babbling and introducing me to various actresses, politicians, fashion icons and artists, I decided to steer him in the direction that would help me achieve my goals.

“What about that man over there,” I asked in a girlish shrill. “He looks pretty important.”

Max suddenly went quiet.

“Oh…that’s just Congressman Salazar,” his voice losing all the arrogance and obnoxious energy. “There’s nothing really to know about him.”

Damn. I was going to have to turn up the charm.

“Oh come on,” I cooed, rubbing my hand over his chest. “You can’t know everything about everyone except one person…I’m really interested to know. Perhaps afterwards you could get to know me as well.”

Max flushed, his eyes filling with the excitement of the possibility that my touch insinuated.

“Well, I suppose there’s no harm,” he convinced himself. “Salazar is currently running for Mayor. His campaign is all based on monogamy and Christian values. But as you can see…everyone likes to indulge from time to time.”

“Do you think you could introduce me,” I asked him sweetly, trailing my fingers down his leg.

Max gulped. It was obvious that Salazar frightened him but he was also tightly chained to his own libido. The conflict in him looked like it would tear him apart. But I had already guessed his nature, I knew what he would choose.

“My father does know him well so I supposed I could,” he said, eyeing me hungrily. “But let me talk to him first–he doesn’t like being approached by people he doesn’t know. Paranoid of being harassed by undercover journalists or something like that.”

I laughed and sent Max off to get me into the circle of Edwin Salazar. If I could get him drunk enough then perhaps I could get him to spill his secrets. I watched as Max approached him, and Salazar greeted him with some cordiality. This was my chance.

I was about to make my way closer as well, thinking that perhaps I could catch a word or too when I was suddenly hugged by a tall stranger dressed in an expensive suit.

I was taken completely aback. And I froze all over.

“Emilia!” He exclaimed, his arms coming around me in a way that was a vice-like grip. “Good Lord it has been such a long time since I’ve seen you! You’re looking as radiant as ever.”

“Uh–Hey,” I stumbled.

I felt a cold chill go through me, even though I could feel the warmth of his body through his close fitted suit.

This was bad! This was really bad.

I didn’t even get the chance to think about it because he pulled me closer against his chest and the strength in his body, trapping me against him, bending his head to put his lips close against my ear.

“You’re being watched,” he whispered in my ear, low and dangerous. “Stay close to me, or I can’t promise you’ll make it out of here alive.”

Unknown POV

I looked down at the photograph on my phone and then back to the woman at the bar. Sure enough her picture matched the description perfectly save for her hair colour, but it could have easily been dyed.

The woman in the picture’s name was Leana Petrov; she had left the states a few decades ago leaving behind very little family. According to my intel, she had married some wealthy businessman and had a child with him.

The people who hired me didn’t give much more information than that.

I was a bit hesitant to make my move however. This was a crowded venue filled with the most elite of New York and their bodyguards, and despite the protection that I had I was not untouchable.

There was also the issue of uncertainty. Sure the resemblance was uncanny but it was still only a resemblance to a person whom she may or may not be related to.

There were just too many variables to consider.

I looked at the woman again and saw a man hug her and pull her aside. I recognised him from the papers; my target had powerful friends indeed.

I drained the last of my beer and decided to leave rather than try to inspect the woman. I would send in the pictures I took of her to my clients and they could decide if this was indeed the one they were after. I would be paid a hefty sum just for the information alone.

Kidnapping seemed to be more dangerous than the money was worth.