Chapter 1
The air was thick with the smell of sweat, smoke and sweet wine. A four-piece band belted out jazz tunes, and a crowd of drunken revelers danced to the beat. The gyrating bodies were slick with drink and arousal, and a heavy cloud of cigarette smoke hung over the acrid scent of intoxication. The infamous Cotton Club was in already full swing.
Harry McMahon lounged on one of the leather sofas that circled the dance floor, drink in hand. He lifted the glass, letting the ice cubes clink together and surveying the room through the pale amber of his cheap whiskey.
He was still waiting.
âYou seem bored, old chap,â his friend, Lucas Thorne, commented from an adjacent chair.
Harry glanced at him from the corner of his eye. One of the clubâs dancers was poised upon Lucasâs knee, wiggling her tail-feathered bottom. Lucas chuckled, his hand sliding up her long legs. Harry brought his glass to his lips, his eyes sliding back to the club.
âNot at all, Lucas,â he said, sipping slowly at the harsh liquor.
Lucas grunted and leaned back as the dancer dipped lower, her hips pulsing against his in time to the music.
âThen why are you staring at the door instead of enjoying yourself as you usually do?â
His friend beckoned to another dancer, who seemed all too eager to entertainâuntil Harry waved her off dismissively.
âYou see,â Lucas said accusingly. âYouâre not here to have a good time.â
âIâm mixing business with pleasure,â Harry countered, setting down his empty glass and leaning forward to light a cigar. âNot all of us can float through life as you do, my good man.â
âSo says the heir of a hotel tycoon.â Lucas guffawed, giving his dancerâs bottom a playful slap.
Harry sighed and puffed at his cigar. It was true; he did stand to inherit his fatherâs hotel empireâbut it was a crumbling, fading empire. Since prohibition, most of the hotel business in the city had floundered and entrepreneursâsuch as himselfâhad to turn to other, less legal means of doing business.
âOh, will you stop sighing?â Lucas interrupted his thoughts. âEveryone loves your hotel.â
âOnly because Iâm in debt to bootleggers,â Harry muttered.
âWell, you have to get the good stuff from someone,â Lucas said with an indifferent shrug. âBootleggers are great business partnersâuntil you canât pay up of course.â
âOf course,â Harry repeated quietly.
Indeed, he thought grimly, the stories had been so grisly that they had even climbed into the rumor mill of the upper classes. And therein was his dilemma. He was in debt to the worst sort of people, and he couldnât pay upânot since his family had drained their old money coffers by buying expensive cars and throwing lavish parties. But heâd never let on, not with his reputation as one of the cityâs richest bachelors at stake. And certainly not when he needed to maintain the glamorous image of his prized hotel, the Hotel Pierre.
But he had a plan...and so he was still waiting with his eye on the door.
âGoodness, man!â Lucas exclaimed, his voice only slightly muffled by his dancerâs chest, âWhy are you slouching around like a sack of old potatoes?â
âI donât slouch,â Harry corrected smartly. âAnd Iâll have you know that I am waiting...for a future business partner to arrive.â
âOh? And who might this mystery guest be?â
âOur newest arrival to the New York party scene, of course,â Harry said with a debonair wink. âThe Parisian Widow.â
Lucas nudged the woman on his lap to the side so that he could lean in excitedly. The so-called Parisian Widow, Elise Rousseau, had arrived in New York only a week agoâand she had already caused quite the buzz. Depending on the source, she was rumored to be a decrepit old shrew or a dazzlingly gorgeous young woman. But most importantlyâat least in Harryâs eyesâshe had reportedly inherited a massive fortune from her late husband.
âThen sheâs making an appearance here tonight?â Lucas asked eagerly.
âSo Iâve heard.â
âMy ladies tell me sheâs a right old hag covered in gaudy baubles,â Lucas said.
âSo?â
âSo, Iâm afraid you wonât be finding a new bed partner tonight, Harry.â
âThis is business, as I told you.â
The words had barely left his mouth when a gust of fresh air announced the arrival of the very woman herself. Both men turned to observe the commotion, their eyes widening.