Page 11 of Devil in a Tux


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“So, you and Evan know each other?” she asked as she punched the button for the lobby.

Diane turned out to be much more talkative than assistants at my other corporate donors. After five minutes with her in the lobby, she excused herself, and I thanked her for the time.

When I reached the street, I paused to collect my thoughts. At least one of the people in that office was human. I turned right for the subway. My next meeting was in Midtown at Bear Foster.

Replaying the encounter with Evan in my head as I walked, I knew I would have to keep this from Dad. Instead of being happy that I’d gotten some money out of the McAllisters, he’d be angry that I’d even ventured into a room with one of the devils. On our descent to living in Uncle Luca’s rental unit in Brooklyn,“those crooked McAllisters,”had been a common refrain from Dad. Whenever he was particularly pissed, the adjective changed todamnedorfucking.Although, I hadn’t heard any of those in years from Dad.

The deadline to give the hotel hosting our gala a table count was the end of the week. If we didn’t make it to forty tables, we’d have to change venues, or cover the minimum and reduce our income from the evening. The two tables Evan McAllister had committed to put us closer, but we were still six tables shy.

CHAPTER3

Evan

I openedthe door that led from my office onto the patio and stepped outside. Six chairs sat about, two on one side, and another four around a small table tucked into the corner. This high up, the wind grew as I approached the railing. Looking out toward Central Park, I decided I agreed with Diane. Aside from being one floor lower, the access to outside air was a pleasant addition that made this office a preferable location.

Below me, the street bustled with people and afternoon traffic. Hearing it made it seem much more active. The glass and the height of my previous office had been more isolating than I’d realized.

“There you are,” Diane said as she joined me outside.

I waved over my shoulder. “Just checking it out.”

A horn sounded from street level—not that a horn was unusual, but this long a blast was.

She joined me at the railing. “What just happened?”

I pointed down at the street. “That bike messenger almost became road kill.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” This was the downside of having a long-time assistant—she’d learned what was normal and what wasn’t, and my meeting with Alexa fit in the latter category.

“I know her from a long time ago.” It was the simplest explanation. “We were just kids.”

“Did you not read the file I gave you?”

“I read it,” I admitted.

“Then why did you let her lie about how much we donated last year? It was twenty thousand, not two hundred. And since when do you give out your direct number at the first meeting?”

Diane knew it was one of my rules not to make myself easily reachable in the beginning stages of negotiating. The other side had to make the effort. I raised my arms. “What’s with the sudden critique?”

“While we’re at it, you said you weren’t committing to anything at the first meeting.”

“So, I changed my mind.”

Diane didn’t back down, one of the traits I’d always liked about her, at least until right now. “It’s my job, remember? You hired me to observe and give it to you straight.”

I had hired her for that, though today it annoyed me that she was throwing my words back. I tried a different tack. “You’re attracted to her, aren’t you?”

“No way. She’s not my type, and besides, Miranda would kill me.”

I nodded, knowing her partner, that was a definite possibility. And, Miranda knew people—the kind of people who meant we might never find the body.

“Now cut it out,” she demanded with a stern finger pointed my way.

“Cut what out?”

“When cornered, obfuscate, deflect, and transfer. You taught me that. So you like her; that much is obvious.”

“You’re supposed to read the other side, not me,” I shot back.

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