“Close. Dolce,” the woman admitted, flexing her toes in a way that had the lady working on her pedicure scowling. She fluttered her already painted fingernails in greeting. Rhinestones flashed. “I’m Tiffany. Tiffany Winters.”
“Cassandra Sachs. Nice to meet you.”
The intricate dance of Who Has More Money had only just begun. Cassandra surreptitiously eyed the purse at the foot of the woman’s cushy chair; she couldn’t see the brand name, but the Prada sunglasses hanging off a strap were a clue.
Tiffany smiled, revealing blindingly white teeth. “Say, I’m new to town. I just moved into the Still Waters community.” Another hint, this one as subtle as a solid gold brick to the face. Still Waters was one of the most exclusive—and expensive—gated communities in town. “I don’t suppose you know of any places closer than Manhattan that have some real nightlife, do you?”
“Oh, absolutely!” Cassandra ignored Ling’s gasp when she shifted to ensure the huge rock on her finger caught the light, figuring her nail stylist would fix the smeared polish without a fuss. Ling made a small sound in her throat that might have been a curse, but she was paid too much money to scold one of her best customers. “As a matter of fact, we’re neighbors. I live in Still Waters, too. A few of us get together and go to the Smoke & Whiskey downtown for drinks a couple nights a week. You’re welcome to join us.”
The two women chatted for a while, their despairing nail technicians doing their best to ensure no more polish was smeared as the ladies moved just so to ensure their skin, jewelry, and clothing was displayed to best advantage, preferably with brand names visible at all times. Cassandra finally felt she had the upper hand when Tiffany’s blue eyes (contacts, she was sure) widened perceptibly at the sight of the pink diamond on her ring finger. It caught the light as no imitation would, practically crackling with sparkles.
Tiffany did as any woman would when confronted by such an eye-catching stone. She cooed over the diamond, clearly lusting after one of her own.
“My goodness, you must have found yourself quite a catch to get a rock like that!”
Cassandra’s lips curled, practically purring with pleasure. “Oh, he is, no doubt of that. Gabriel’s great-great-grandfather was a partner in the original Kimberley diamond mine excursion. He could have lived on the trust his father set up, but he opened his own architectural firm instead.”
Tiffany’s eyes widened, suitably impressed. Cassandra, for her part, was not about to let an opportunity to pry slip by.
“What about you? What does your husband do?”
“Oh,” Tiffany said, airy tones dripping with indifference, “I’m not married. Not anymore, as far as I’m concerned. My husband dealt in security and built custom firearms. We had our differences and separated last year. The divorce is nearly finalized, and I’m not in any rush to replace him. The alimony and sales of my artwork keep me comfortable.”
Cassandra clicked her tongue, making sympathetic sounds, eyes bright as she studied Tiffany more closely. “That’s a shame things didn’t work out.”
“We didn’t have any kids and we discovered late in the relationship that we both wanted different things out of life. The separation was amiable, and the divorce was relatively painless. Truthfully, it’s better this way for both of us.”
“Well, I’m glad you’ve got such a bright outlook on things. You really should meet the other ladies. I think a girls night out would be just the thing. Meet us at the Smoke & Whiskey tonight at ten. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
Tiffany’s plush lips curved in a wicked smile as she leaned back in her salon chair, closing her eyes.
“I can’t wait.”
“Oh, you’ll like this one,” Cassandra said, stirring her martini with a thin crystal swizzle stick. “New to town, no kids, no husband, and positively desperate to fit in.”
“Desperation should suit our needs quite nicely,” Vera replied before she sipped her lemon drop, crossing her slender legs primly at her ankles. “When’s the last time we took in new blood? If we don’t work to expand our ranks as much as we have our fortunes, we’ll never have the kind of influence over the Were communities that Gabriel keeps going on about. If he wants to be the next Rohrik Donovan, he needs to work for it.”
“Oh please,” Alexis scoffed, waggling fingers wrapped in jewels in airy dismissal. “Our husbands would have done something about it already if they knew how. Their little yacht club meetings and golfing excursions are just excuses to avoid facing facts—that scouting their usual haunts isn’t going to get us any new wolves. It just goes to show that, as always, it’s the women behind the men in power who really make history.”
Heather shifted uncomfortably, twining her fingers in her long auburn hair as her attention shifted back and forth between the other ladies. She opened her mouth to add her thoughts to the conversation, but Cassandra smoothly overrode her.
“Be that as it may, if we are going to take over recruitment for the pack, we might as well start somewhere. I think this woman could be a good fit. She already lives in the community and she’s newly divorced—which means she’ll be lonely and looking for a man soon enough.”
Heather opened her mouth again, but this time Vera cut her off. “I’m not convinced that volunteering Charles or Lucas as a fit for this woman we haven’t met is such a good idea. Make her one of the pack? Sure. Hand her over to the available men? Not unless she’s breeding pups before she’s turned. Which doesn’t solve our numbers problem for the short term.”
Alexis smirked, drawing her straw across her tongue in a playful, flirtatious bid to draw the attention of one of the men at the bar before adding her thoughts. “Divorcées are generally bitter, lonely people. Not the mothering sort, if she doesn’t have rugrats already, I’m sure. She can choose someone else; perhaps one of the hopefuls that Gabriel keeps going on about inviting to those dull brunches of his... .”
Cassandra gave Alexis a withering look, which went ignored. Her smile was cold enough to make Vera and Heather drop their eyes submissively, knowing better than to tease her about her husband—or his parties.
“Thank you, Alexis. I’ll be sure to tell him you think so,” Cassandra said, her tone flat enough that Alexis finally realized she was in error.