When we come up for air, I study his eyes. There’s turmoil rolling through them. Just mere days ago, I would have told anyone who would listen that Eric wasn’t capable of deception.
I don’t want to be proven wrong.
By the time we pull up to the Amherst estate, I’m ready to crawl out of my skin. Leave it to the devil incarnate, Aaron, to hitch a ride with us. I can’t scrape away the memory of his cocky smirk when he came out of his room, putting on his cufflinks. Eric could see the disappointment on my face, but he told me Aaron’s date bailed. Smart girl.
Eric climbs out of the Rolls Royce, holding a hand out to me. I carefully tuck the train of my gold beaded gown close to my leg. As I turn to follow Eric’s lead out of the car, Aaron’s hand brushes over mine.
I almost trip stepping onto the pavement.
He moves close, whispering, “You’ll be the most beautiful woman here.”
I don’t turn or acknowledge that I heard him. He’s toying with me. One minute being rudely derogatory, and the next, almost flirting.
He’s probably trying to get a reaction so he can tell Eric. To break us up.
Staying close to Eric, I hold his arm as we ascend the stone steps covered by a green and gold runner. Towering flower arrangements line the stairs.
I’m in awe of the spectacle. A quartet is positioned next to a grand piano, playing a sweeping sonata. People are everywhere, dressed in their finest. I do a double take when I spot an actor whose posters hung on my childhood bedroom walls, then turn to see an internationally famous singer laughing at a joke a television talk show host is telling.
Eric’s arm is pulled away by one of the Regents to speak with an alumnus, and I’m left gaping at the room of glitz and glitter.
Aaron sidles up next to me.
Waitstaff circulate with flutes of champagne and hors d'oeuvres topped with caviar. I politely decline it all, terrified I’ll spill on myself, the impeccable furnishings, or one of the other guests. Hell, I may end up wanting to toss a drink in Aaron’s face… the night is young.
My attention tends to be pulled toward artwork wherever I am. This is no different.
I step closer to a painting I’ve never seen before titledSanta Maria del Fioreby Filippo Brunelleschi. I frown, confused. He was a well-known sculptor and architect during the Renaissance, not a painter. I lean in closer to examine it when Aaron grabs my hand.
I’m quick to pull it back.
“No thank you. We’re not doing that.”
His response is that smirk I want to wipe off his face every time I see it.
“You were the one who told Eric aboutThe Divinitiespainting being in the chapel,” I force myself to look him in the eye. It’s hard to do when he’s so skilled at pulling me in.
“How hard is it for you to just drop something when you’re told to?” he asks before taking a drink of his champagne.
“Maybe as hard as it is for you to be decent.”
I look around, searching for Eric, Henry, Amy or JJ. I’d even beeline it to one of the Regents. The longer I’m stuck next to him, the worse this tension grows.
What catches my attention is Robert Waverly stationed at the top of the double staircase, watching the door. I follow his gaze to JJ, looking dapper in his tux beside the entrance, distracted by… why is he tracking Birman Donovan’s movements near another doorway?
What’s going on now?
Did Aaron tag along to babysit me while they search the Amherst estate for something? I can’t see Eric anywhere.
I don’t bother to say a word as I slip between groups of people to confront JJ.
“Don’t you look devastating,” he coos as I pull him a hug.
“You clean up well,” I tell him, stepping back slightly.
He pulls his collar away from his neck, coughing lightly, shifting from one foot to another. His eyes roam the room before he nods toward Robert.
“Top secret mission? Something to do with a painting from Rockefeller’s collection?” Come on. They’re not trying very hard to cover it, not when I’m picking up this weirdness from them lately.
