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“You. I won’t even bother asking how you pulled that off. What happens to the parents, the ones trying to get the money?”
“They’ve been warned. Consequences are in place to be executed if they do not comply.”
A chill settles into my bones at the flat, casual comment. The real meaning behind the words makes me instantly nauseous. “So that’s that. Her family is safe. You get her whole life.”
“Her late husband’s bank. The property. Overseas holdings. Gloria had no children herself. Her cancer is terminal.” He shakes his head, like that explanation is enough.
“What about the painting you mentioned?” I shift gears, trying to clear my head, to reconcile the awful interchange.
“Something I know she’s always wanted, like the tickets to the ballet, to decorate her hospital room. Something nice to look at until she goes.” Evan reaches over, helping me hold my hair out of the way.
Changing in the car has gotten easier, although I am getting sick of his playing dress-up-doll with me on the fly like this. “Can’t I get a changing room every now and then?” I mutter, sliding the dress down over my chest before wiggling out of my bra straps and dragging the cups out from underneath.
“I’ll have one installed in the carriage at once, milady,” he drawls, pulling out and delivering us to the valet at the front steps. It’s obscene, four stories, the white marble, the soaring flower decorations. It must be a ball or a gala.
Evan stops me short of the front door, turning me to check my outfit, my hair. “Let’s make this one quick, shall we?”
“I’m not done talking about Gloria.”
“Clearly.”
“Or about your springing surprises on me, costume changes.” I’m still fired up. The flare of the glorious red dress he picked just seems to accentuate my mood.
“I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Or your not filling me in on the deals beforehand. I hate walking in blind.”
“You’ve done just fine thus far,” he mutters, offering me his arm.
“And felt like an idiot almost every time!”
“Well, you’re in for a treat. This is just a birthday party.”
“For whom? The president?”
“Senator’s daughter. Sweet sixteen. Well. Not really sweet. She’s a monster.”
“This is exactly what I am talking about!” I hiss, keeping a pleasant smile on my face as we step into a chandelier-lit entry, complete with matching marble staircases on either side. Ushers wait at the doorways to guide us into the parlor, the dining room, the ballroom.
“I can’t have you questioning me in front of clients.”
“Then give me the rundown in advance so I don’t have to.”
“I’ll consider it. Now go mingle. I have to check on the aerialists and collect payment from the senator.”
“We’re going back to have lunch with Gloria.”
“Agreed.” And he’s gone, striding off with purpose. Probably just to get away from me.
Asshole.
He always puts work first, always ahead of himself, always ahead of everything. Just like Gloria said.
Snatching a glass off a passing tray, I take a few sips to cool down and meander through the party. Most of the guests are in formal wear, so I don’t stand out, but I still get the odd glance, mostly from men in summer suits.
The ballroom seems to be my best bet for blending in and losing myself for a bit while Evan works. After I get some much-needed food.
The dining hall is packed with tables, right on point with the rest of the palatial decor. Ice sculptures. Caviar. A champagne glass tower.
