Page 36 of Velvet Vaughn

Chapter Seven

Leo woke at 7:15 to a soundless room and a condo that smelled of coffee, and for one disoriented second he thought he’d left the pot on a timer.

Then he heard movement in the kitchen.

He bolted upright, dragged a hand through his hair, and sat on the edge of the bed long enough to confirm that his knee would cooperate this morning. It did. Marginally. He grabbed a clean shirt from the closet, swapped out the joggers for jeans, and made it down the hall to find Anja at the kitchen island with her coffee and her laptop. She’d apparently slept a couple of hours and made a battle plan before dawn.

He must’ve made a sound because she glanced up, her gaze traveling over him from head to foot. Somehow, it managed to be both an assessment and a greeting.

“You actually slept.”

“I did.” He rounded the island toward the coffee. “Surprised?”

“Mildly. I figured you’d be staring at the ceiling until three.”

“I made it to 2:15.” He poured a mug and leaned against the counter. “How long have you been up?”

“A while.”

Which meant she’d been at it for hours and wasn’t going to tell him that. He let it go. Outside the east windows, the city had the flat pewter light of early morning, clouds moving in low over the skyline. The Chase Park Plaza was eleven blocks south. In roughly thirteen hours, they’d be walking through the doors of the Khorassan Ballroom, and Leo would shake hands with people he worked with while Anja cataloged their tells.

He drank his coffee and thought about it. “Question.”

She didn’t look up from the screen. “Go ahead.”

“Are you always this alert before eight, or is this a professional courtesy?”

“Both.”

“Terrifying.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

He topped off her mug without asking. She accepted it without comment. He counted it as a win as he pulled out the stool across from her and sat down. “What are we looking at?”

Anja turned the laptop around. On the screen was a seating chart for the Pinnacle Foundation gala, a public document she’d apparently located before the sun came up. It was annotated in neat shorthand across three clusters of tables, and she’d mapped who would sit near whom.

He studied it. Then he pointed to the tables in the center, second ring from the dais. “Those are ours. Curtis usually does the same grouping. Senior partners, top-performing agents, and whatever clients he wants to showcase.”

She pulled the laptop back and added a notation. “Walk me through who else will be there.”

“Brad Hatton. Senior agent, twelve years with the firm. He’ll be with his wife, Renee, who was a homecoming queen in 1993 and has not entirely moved on from this. To their left, probably Jasmine Ortega, our general counsel. Sharp, ethical to the bone, would give you the shirt off her back and then invoice you for it.” He paused. “Curtis at the head. His wife, Lydia, who collects Impressionist art and volunteers at the Missouri Botanical Garden, is genuinely the nicest person in any room she enters.” He named several other staff members.

Anja absorbed all of this in one slow blink. “And the agents who aren’t senior partners. Where do they land?”

“Outer tables. Good seats, good view, just not the circle.” He traced a finger toward the left cluster. “That’s probably where my assistant, Marcy, winds up. She comes every year. She calls it her annual reminder that she’s underpaid.”

A flicker crossed Anja’s expression, the faint version of amusement she allowed herself before correcting it. “I like her already.”

“Everyone does. She’s terrifying.” He sat back. “What do we tell people about us?”

Anja straightened slightly. “We met a few months ago and have been seeing each other since, but I travel a lot.” She kept her tone even. “That gives me a reason to be unfamiliar with your colleagues without it seeming suspicious. They’ll try to get a read on me, so I’ll let them. People tell you a great deal when they think they’re the ones doing the evaluating.”

“And what do I tell Curtis when he asks how we met?”

“He’ll ask?”

“He absolutely will. The man has never in his life missed a chance to connect people. He’ll want to know your name, your background, and your favorite sports team, in that order.”