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At first, Eliza had gotten a laugh out of it. Roman had chosen the wrong woman to seduce. Marguerite disliked every fiber of Roman— who he was, what he stood for, how he walked, talked, spoke. But as the night went on, Eliza’s internal laughter died down. She hadn’t given her husband enough credit.
Marguerite eventually softened under the charms of Roman Tate. Eliza had seen the exact moment when it had clicked—during the dessert course when Roman had offered Marguerite a bite of his tiramisu. She’d given one last look at Eliza, but when Eliza didn’t react, everything changed. Instead of dubiously fending off Roman’s advances, Marguerite leaned into them, eager and intrigued.
Her soft laughter at his words grew a bit louder. Their eye contact lingered boldly. It wasn’t Marguerite’s fault the way this twisted fairy tale was unfolding; she was just a pawn. The poor woman was being played by Roman, and that annoyed Eliza.
Standing, Eliza pushed in her chair and flashed a demure smile around the table. “If you’ll just excuse me, I have to go check on the caterer and make sure everything’s ready next door. Please finish your dessert and join me when you’re ready.”
“See you over there, dear,” Roman said with a flash of a smile. “I’ll stay back and make sure the guest of honor finds her way.”
Marguerite met Eliza’s gaze dead-on. “How kind of your husband.”
Eliza sucked in a breath. “I’m a lucky woman.”
Leaving her husband to cuddle up with her star client, Eliza wobbled her away across the street, unsure what to make of the events from dinner. Roman’s behavior made her uneasy for more than one reason, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. She needed time to think. She needed a rebuttal, but what? How could she fix this?
Eliza made her way from the dinner restaurant to the event venue. She tottered into the Pelican Hotel on ridiculously high heels, smoothing her skirt as she bypassed the front desk and made her way straight to the ballroom. Once inside, she hesitated, leaning over a cocktail table for support. She’d just closed her eyes when a voice startled her from behind.
“Oh God. I’m ridiculously early, aren’t I?”
Eliza straightened, turning at the unfamiliar voice. She peered through the beautiful centerpiece—a stunning bouquet of lilies— toward the young woman standing in the doorway.
The first guest looked supremely nervous, her eyes rapidly flicking one way then another as if hunting for the quickest exit from the room. She wore a poppy-red, one-piece jumper with teeny, tiny straps across bare shoulders. The pantsuit swished around trim legs, and the buttons on her chest, as delicate as flowers, hid an impressive display of cleavage.
This woman didn’t have the haunted, half-starved look of many aspiring models or actresses in this city. She had the fresh-faced, healthy glow of a woman brimming with hope and ambition. When she walked, it was on a set of chunky heels that wobbled slightly, and as Eliza looked closer, she realized the shoes were held together with a swatch of duct tape.
Eliza hid a smile. The jumper wasn’t from anywhere fancy. A department store maybe. A secondhand boutique at best. The fabric had pilled slightly and was of dubious quality, details Eliza noticed as she moved closer. Not that it mattered, since the woman had a stunning figure and the benefit of youth. With her smile, nobody would notice her clothes.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” the guest said, twisting the toe of one shoe into the ground. “But do you know if this is the launch party for Marguerite Hill’s new book?”
“It is. Come in and make yourself comfortable.”
“I’m Penny.” The girl threw a hand over her face and cringed. “This is so embarrassing. I should have known when they said the party was at seven, they meant seven—not six thirty.”
Eliza smiled. “Someone has to be first. May I ask how you heard about the event?”
The woman’s face paled at the question. “Holy moly, you’re Eliza Tate, aren’t you?”
“Guilty.”
“I…er…I recognize you from pictures in your husband’s office. I’m one of his students.”
“Penny—oh, you’re the Penny! You babysit for the Wilkeses. Anne is a close friend of mine. She raves about you all the time. It’s so nice to finally put a face to a name.”
“You’re telling me.” Penny scoffed, her cheeks blooming to a rosy shade of pink. “Well, I’m a huge fan of Marguerite Hill, so I’m thrilled to be here. Take Charge was actually the book that gave me the courage to move to LA. I can’t wait to get my hands on Be Free.”
“You’re new here, then?” Eliza thought that explained quite a lot about Penny.
“I’ve only been living here a couple of months. I’m from a small town in Iowa. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.”
That explains even more, Eliza thought. “Well, welcome. Marguerite will be so glad to hear about your experience with her book. I’ll introduce you when she arrives. It should be any second now.”
“You’d really introduce me?”
“She’d love it.”
“I would…” Penny cleared her throat. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”
Eliza caught a fleeting glimpse of uncertainty in Penny’s eyes. “What is it?”
