Page 139 of Black Reign

He lifts both hands.

“Not my problem.”

Then he walks away.

I finish checking the temporary florist list.

Nothing.

No Vesper.

No anomaly I can prove.

No woman with caramel hair appearing in the wrong place.

Maybe she's already gone.

That possibility twists something ugly inside me.

She came.

Saw me.

And left.

Again.

London Bridge with champagne.

I hate how much that thought gets under my skin.

I return to the reception.

The lights are lower now.

Candles flicker across the tables. Music drifts through open doors toward the terrace. The Pacific beyond the glass is nearly black, reflecting ribbons of gold from the estate.

My jacket isn't on the back of my chair.

I stop.

It was there.

I know exactly where I left it.

Folded over the chair beside my place setting before I went to speak with security.

Now it's draped neatly across the arm.

Different position.

My pulse changes.

Then I see the Scotch.

Untouched when I left.

Not untouched now.