“You have tickets to everything. You never attend. Why this event?”
“My father asked me to be here, show my face and get to know the people.”
“So it’s not because the woman you chased the other night is here?”
Trepidation flares in my stomach. I was hoping their paths would never cross again. “Is she?”
She rolls her eyes. “As if you didn’t know.”
I scan the crowd for her before looking back at Lo’s pleased smile. I ignore it. “Did you meet?” I ask, my heart speeding up with each beat.
“No. Not yet, anyway.”
Relief makes my knees weak, but I only smile vaguely. “Maybe nexttime. Good to see you.”
She places a hand on my chest to halt my exit. The familiar touch feels out of place somehow. I glance around for Sin again.
“Kwame, look at me.”
I force my eyes from their hunt and look down at her. “Yes?”
Her smile is tight. “We’ve been friends nearly our whole lives. She’s a new kid on this block. Until you know her…”
I cover her hand with mine. “Her family has known mine for decades.” It’s an embellishment but I need her to understand the hierarchy right now. “I like her very much, and she’s not going anywhere.” I lift her hand off and let it fall by her side.
She blinks in surprise. “You were serious that night? Like, as in for real?”
“Yes. For real.”
She frowns but it curves up in a smile. “Okay, then, I like her, too. I can’t wait to meet her.”
The thought makes me intensely uncomfortable but it’s inevitable. Lo and Titus are like family. “We’ll make it happen. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Of course. Have a good night. Oh. Heads up, Oz is in there too.”
Jesus, of all people. I hope Sin can get what she needs and we can get out of here before our paths cross. I head inside to find her and get this evening over with.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sin
Blindsided
I melt into the crowd and grab a drink from a passing waiter, and smile politely at people who smile at me, but I don’t stop moving until I reach the cordoned off space where tables are set up for dinner.
I grab my glass of wine and scan the room for a glimpse of Paloma Persaud. She’s on my research list for this week. My Google reverse search told me that she’s the daughter of the newest governor of Virginia.
A man who’s seen as the future of American politics. He’s a first generation American whose parents came here from Guyana and founded Blue Cab of DC. Wikipedia has a lot to say about the man’s career and background but only mentions his children’s first names and his wife is his high school sweetheart. Further research revealed that her mother is a member of one of the original Black families of Baltimore.
Paloma Persaud herself has zero online presence except for a TikTok where she posts pictures of pretty plates of food with no caption or context. I need to figure out how they’re connected and if she’s involved in the cultural theft ring.
A friend of mine fromThe Postis seated at the press table, and I walk over to say hello. He raises his eyebrows when he sees me. “Look at you. Eating with the grown-ups, I see.”
I brush off his teasing. I thought I’d be uncomfortable on this side of the rope line, but I like being inconspicuous. It makes me harder to avoid.
I wrinkle my nose. “I couldn’t get a press pass forThe Spectator, so I called in a favor.”
His brows knit. “What do you mean?The Spectatoris here.”
