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“I really can’t imagine how else it could happen.”
“We have a very talented lawyer.”
She gasps. “That’s all it took?”
A knot forms in my gut as I think about all the plans I had for divesting Emberly of her inheritance. Murder, imprisonment, humiliation, coercion… all because the father she never knew was scum.
Holding my features in a neutral mask, I swallow a mouthful of non-alcoholic wine. “Sometimes brains trump brawn.”
She laughs. “That’s something to remember for the future. What else did you get back from the Capello family?”
I take her hand. “Tonight is about celebrating you and your rise to the top of the art world.”
She lowers her lashes, her cheeks turning pink. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Nonsense,” I say. “Your talent speaks for itself.”
Emberly sets down her fork and sighs. “I spent years struggling to afford painting supplies and just as much time trying to get noticed. It’s so competitive out there and nearly impossible to get a break.”
The tension in my belly loosens now that she’s no longer asking dangerous questions about her family. Exhaling my relief, I give her hand a gentle squeeze. “That must have been hard.”
“It was.” She glances up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But then one introduction to the right person made all the difference.”
“That was all you, baby,” I murmur, my hairline breaking out in sweat. “You and Lubelli were in the right place at the right time. You took the initiative and made things happen.”
“Stop being so modest,” she says with a bright smile. “Mr. Lubelli might never have taken me seriously if I hadn’t walked in on your arm.”
The words hit like a punch, bringing up a reflux of guilt. Adrenaline surges through my veins and tension winds around my chest, forcing my breaths to shallow.
She isn’t accusing me of engineering a meeting with the owner of New Alderney’s most prestigious art gallery to swindle her out of her inheritance.
She’s just talking.
Just expressing her gratitude.
She doesn’t know she’s a pawn in a grand scale game far beyond her understanding.
Right?
The next course arrives, a seared scallop with a buttery Chardonnay. When Emberly breaks eye contact to take a bite, I take in a deep breath and pull back my shoulders. It’s time to change the subject away from the casino, her art, or anything else related to the stolen assets.
I take a bite of the scallop, barely able to appreciate its delicate flavors when all I can taste is dread. Emberly needs to be distracted in case I fumble tonight’s plan and lose her forever.
“Can we talk about what happened tonight?” I ask.
She pauses, mid-chew, her eyes widening. “What do you mean?”
“Your panic attack,” I say.
Her features fall and her shoulders droop. “That was just a misunderstanding, and we talked about it already.”
“Perhaps.” I take a sip of the non-alcoholic chardonnay. “But we also haven’t talked about what happened on that balcony. Are they related?”
She swallows her mouthful and downs her glass. My eyes narrow, and I remind myself to remove all traces of alcohol from around the house in case I’ve managed to get her pregnant.
“I just don’t like to be stuck,” she mutters.
“You’re claustrophobic?” I ask.
