Elias had never been this aware of every single breath he took. Damn it!
The earbud Cassian had slipped into his ear felt heavier than it should, as though it carried the weight of everything that could go wrong tonight. The top clung too nicely to his skin, so did the cologne that lingered on his wrist and neck; faintly sweet.
"You'll do fine. I will be listening in," Cassian had said before he left the house, slipping on black gloves.
Elias hadn't believed him then. He still didn't.
The driver didn't say a word on their way to the club, and Elias was grateful for that. Every nerve in his body was focused on remembering Cassian's instructions: walk in, don't act suspicious, find Larsen, flirt.
Flirt.
He can do that. All he can do is imagine the dude as a woman. He can do it.
No, he can't.
He couldn't even flirt his way into a date, and now he was supposed to do it with a man marked for death?
When the driver finally parked across from Club Vane, he could hear the pounding of bass even through the car door. Elias took a deep breath, sprayed himself once more with the scent spray Cassian had given him, then again for luck. It mostly made him light-headed.
He stepped out of the car.
Inside, Club Vane was definitely not like the clubs he frequently when he was on campus. This one was on a different level of glam and power; every cliché of dark lighting, velvet booths, expensive cologne drowning in the scent of alcohol and sweat. The security at the entrance barely gave him a second glance after a look at his face. Elias blinked. Maybe Cassian had called ahead.
He moved toward the bar, pretending not to care that his hands were shaking. Fuck, he might as well drink before he gets into action.
"Something strong," he told the bartender.
The man poured him a double shot of bourbon that burned down his throat. Elias coughed, cleared his throat, and gestured for another.
"One Mojito," he added, voice hoarse.
He tried to ignore how the earbud made him paranoid. Tried to pretend Cassian wasn't listening from wherever he was. Tried not to think about how quickly this could go wrong. He held the new drink in his hand and started to climb the short stairs toward the VIP section Cassian had told him about.
Don't fuck this up... Don't fuck this up...
"Oomph!" He collided into someone. "Shit, sorry!" Elias steadied himself, blinking up at the man whose drink he had nearly spilled.
Huh? Isn't this that weird dude that was with Cassian the other day? Did he call himself Nick or something?
His heart froze when he realized who the man beside 'Nick' was.
Larsen.
He'd seen his picture only hours ago, in Cassian's study, the face circled in red ink. Tall, blonde, tanned, with a strong sharp jaw. There was something icky about his smile too.
"Careful there, sweetheart," 'Nick' said, "Almost made me spill my drink."
Elias laughed nervously. "My bad."
There was another lady beside Larsen, a pretty brunette. She leaned close to whisper something, but Larsen was already studying Elias, head tilted, lips curling. "You new? Don't think I've seen you around."
"Just visiting," Elias said before he could stop himself.
"Well, that's a shame." Larsen leaned an elbow on the railing, his eyes shamelessly running down Elias's figure. "You should join us. Drinks are better upstairs."
Elias's stomach dropped. Cassian had said to find him and flirt. Mission complete, apparently. His gaze darted to 'Nick' wandering if he was in on Cassian's plan of not. His pulse jumped so hard his skin itched. He forced a smile, one he hoped looked easy and flirty instead of terrified. "Sure," he said. "Why not?"
He followed them up into a booth tucked at the corner of the VIP section. There was a low couch, a table cluttered with bottles, and the faint smell of cigars.
"Come, sit with me," Larsen said and the lights in Elias's head flashed red.
What? What? Sit with him? Shit. Right, flirt. Think of hot blonde lady who's got big boobs and nice ass. Yes.
He sat beside Larsen, close in a way that didn't seem too close. He caught a whiff of his scent and tried not to frown.
The conversation was easy at first, all surface-level nonsense. Larsen liked hearing his own voice, which was convenient because Elias could barely form a coherent sentence. Larsen talked to 'Nick' and the brunette and snippets of their conversation made sense to Elias. There was something about product, takeover, families and trade, and Cassian to which Elias perked up at.
But his attention soon lasted when Larsen's hand began to wander; first brushing his knee, then staying there. Elias froze.
Larsen murmured, fingers sliding higher. "Don't be nervous. I don't bite… unless you ask me to."
Elias gave a weak laugh. "Oh, I—I just—uh—"
"Relax." Larsen leaned closer, breath hot against Elias's ear. "You're exactly my type."
The hand crept higher. Shit, fuck! This was not part of how he imagined this going!
Elias shifted, inching away, but Larsen only grinned wider. "Cute," he said. "You like to play hard to get? That's fine. I enjoy breaking people in."
Elias's pulse thundered. His throat was dry. He glanced at 'Nick' hoping his eyes were screaming enough of fucking shit help me get him off me right now and wished he could vanish. But the son of a bitch grinned and excused himself.
Bang!
A gunshot cracked through the music. Screams erupted around them. The woman beside Larsen crumpled, blood spilling from a clean hole in her temple. Glass shattered.
Larsen jerked to his feet, drawing his own weapon instantly. Elias stared in horror as his brain caught up to what he was seeing.
Another gun clicked.
Cassian stood a few steps away, weapon raised, expression cold.
"Fancy seeing you here," Cassian said smoothly. "On my turf. Without permission. Again."
Larsen's eyes darkened. "Cassian."
"Still talking," Cassian replied, voice calm but glacial. "I thought we solved a bit of that problem last time."
Shit! The two msn were ìn a standoff pointing guns at each other with Elias in the middle. The crowd had scattered already, footsteps retreating. Elias shook, slowly and quietly sliding off the couch to crawl away, when a hand grabbed him.
Before he could blink, he was yanked backward against a solid chest. Cold metal pressed to his temple.
"Drop it," Larsen hissed. "Or I'll paint the walls with his fucking brains."
Cassian's jaw flexed. The gun in his hand didn't lower. His pulse beat against the muzzle at his head. His throat closed. For a second, he thought Cassian might actually let Larsen shoot him. This wasn't what he promised! Was this how he was going to die?! It hasn't even been a month in this fucking book as a side character!
Cassian tilted his head slightly, eyes dark. "What makes you think I care if he dies?"
Uh... Uh! That son of a...!