"I understand the supplier changed their inventory, but that's not my problem. Find another supplier. We have two weeks."
I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale deeply.
"Look, this fundraiser is one of our biggest events of the year. Everything has to be perfect."
We move on to other topics, mainly the one I'm most interested in.
"…and the guest list," Jillian says, "is already full, but a few Shadowharbor donors reached out directly about VIP seating, so I'll loop back once we finalize placement."
"Perfect," I say, leaning forward. "Let's flag that," I add, keeping my voice cool. "I'd like to speak with them directly."
I lean back. Perfect. Doesn't seem suspicious at all that I want to speak to anyone Shadowharbor considers a VIP.
Now, asking the right questions without raising any red flags is another matter, but I'll worry about that later.
I stand and walk around the library, which has kind of become my office since staying here the last week.
I move toward the window, looking out over the grounds. Guards patrol the perimeter in pairs, walking back and forth.
"Good," I chime in. "And the Cartier donation?"
I glance toward the hallway, my eyes scanning the visible portion, looking for?—
I stop myself.
Looking for what?
Or rather, looking for who.
I can't see him.
He's not there. And for some reason, that bothers me more than I want to admit.
Octavian is always there, always lingering in the doorway, or by the fireplace, or near the goddamn curtains.
But now? The empty doorway makes something squirm in my chest. I don't know how I feel about it.
"Yes, sorry, I'm still here. What did you say?"
I force my attention back to the call. The absence of his presence is noticeable in a way it shouldn't be.
Stop it.
"No, the menu is final. If Senator Brennan has dietary restrictions, he should have informed us two weeks ago when we sent out the RSVP."
Why is this bothering me, that he's not here?
A figure appears in the doorway, and I look up.
My head snaps up, and for half a second my pulse quickens before I recognize Callum's tall frame entering. But behind him, just outside in the hallway, I catch sight of Octavian.
He's leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on me through the open doorway.
Our gazes lock.
Something tightens in my stomach, warm and electric.
Then Callum steps further inside, partially blocking my view, and I force myself to look at my brother instead.
