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“What’s a white whale?”
“Someone reclusive who doesn’t attend many functions. This will probably be your only opportunity to make a connection with them since they generally steer clear of society.”
When he didn’t speak, she glanced up. He had an odd look on his face.
“How did Colette say Mikhail made his fortune?”
“Digital payments and banking services.” She cocked her head. “Is that inaccurate? Did she get the wrong information?”
“Who else is a white whale?” he asked abruptly.
“Christoph Braun, and she thought you might want to talk to someone named Amos...?”
“Faulkner,” Roth finished thoughtfully.
She raised her brows. “Is he on your list?”
“Maybe she isn’t useless after all.”
Her spine snapped as she straightened. “My sister’s anything but useless.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said as he moved through the crowd.
Again, he didn’t look to the left or the right but was locked on his target, who happened to be across the room. She saw men raise their hands to catch Roth’s attention, but he ignored them. She acknowledged them with a nod and an apologetic smile to smooth any ruffled feathers. She considered coaching Roth on how to conduct himself in this crowd, but knew it was no use. Seven years hadn’t changed his manners—he just dressed better.
She pressed against his back. “What happened at the board meeting today?”
“That doesn’t concern you,” he said shortly.
The brush-off stung, but she persisted. “Did you convince the board to give my sisters more time to make up for their losses?” She bumped into him when he came to an abrupt stop.
“Mikhail.”
She swallowed her irritation and came up on Roth’s side to get a look at one of the white whales of the evening. Messy dark hair fell across Mikhail’s brow. He had moody blue-gray eyes, and his lips were set in a straight line. Despite the immaculate tux, she got the distinct impression he was uncomfortable and wished he was anywhere but here. The fact that he was in a corner of the ballroom, not circulating, supported her theory.
“Roth.” Mikhail offered his hand. “We finally meet.”
She wasn’t sure what tack to take with the man, since he wasn’t giving any good social cues. Roth didn’t bother making observations about the party, weather, or asking if Mikhail had flown in. He cut to the chase and asked about some recent deal Mikhail had done with a man named Ilya, which made the billionaire’s mouth quirk in appreciation.
She listened closely to their conversation. The fact Roth had questioned how Mikhail made his fortune suggested it wasn’t from digital payments and banking services. She listened for several minutes, but she couldn’t make heads nor tails of what they were talking about. Although this was supposedly their first meeting, they referred to mutual acquaintances by their first names only. On the surface, it sounded like they were discussing industry and economy, but the speed with which they were speaking gave her the impression they were talking about something else entirely.
After a few minutes, she gave up. She wanted to excuse herself to seek sanctuary in the bathroom for a much-needed break. Her face felt tight from the megawatt smile she’d plastered on. She was dying for a notepad and pen to jot down notes on those she’d met and promised to reach out to after the holidays. She wished she had her cell phone. Roth had his in his jacket pocket. Would he let her borrow it? She inwardly scoffed.
She scanned the crowd and tried not to make eye contact. She didn’t want to inadvertently summon someone and interrupt Roth’s strangely intense conversation with Mikhail. There were a handful of familiar faces, but the vast majority were strangers to her. Her eyes passed over a group of men and almost immediately came back. Samuel Mortimer, a close friend of her father’s, was speaking to Warren, a crotchety old man who spread misery everywhere he went. People put up with him because he was a whiz at making money, but she would rather be in a lower tax bracket than do business with such a curmudgeon.
One of the men left the circle, revealing a familiar face that made her feel like she was in free fall. Ford? The shock was so great it took her several seconds to register the lighter hair and shorter stature of Ford’s older brother, Tucker Baldwin. As their eyes locked, his expression morphed into one of such blatant hostility that she took a step back.
“Jasmine?”
Roth and Mikhail had broken off their conversation and were giving her their undivided attention. She concealed her distress behind a brilliant smile and focused on Mikhail. “I hear you know my good friend, Igor.”
Mikhail blinked. “How do you know Igor?”
“His wife, Kira, is one of my best friends. She’s coming for a visit in a few months. If you’re still in the country, you should join us.”
Mikhail’s brows drew together. “It’s possible. I travel frequently from Germany to the States.”
She filed that away for future reference. “Roth does a lot of business in Germany. I’m surprised you two haven’t had a chance to meet.”
