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“Good,” I said, trying to rein in my sudden runaway heartbeat. “Maybe it’ll bring more awareness to the piping plover issue.”
She rolled her eyes. “Vivian, no one cares”—she stopped, looked around, and lowered her voice— “no one actually caresabout the piping plovers. I mean, I’m sad they’re endangered, but let’s be honest. The people are here for the scene only.”
Once again, she was right. Still, no matter their reason for attending, the guests were raising money for a good cause, and the events kept my business running.
“The real topic of the night,” Shannon said, “is how good Dante looks. I’ve never seen a man fill out a tuxedo so well.”
“You have a boyfriend, Shan.”
“So? We’re allowed to appreciate other people’s beauty.”
“Yes, well, I think you’veappreciatedenough.We’re here to work, not ogle the guests.”I gently pushed her toward the dessert table. “Can you bring out more Viennese tartlets? We’re running low.”
“Buzzkill,” she grumbled, but she did as I said.
I tried to refocus on the sound setup, but I couldn’t resist scanning the room for the surprise guest of the night. My gaze skimmed past the DJ and the 3D piping plover display and rested on the crowd by the entrance.
It was so thick I couldn’t see beyond the outer edges, but I’d bet my entire bank account Dante was the center of their attention.
My suspicions were confirmed when the crowd shifted briefly to reveal a glimpse of dark hair and broad shoulders.
A rush of awareness ran the length of my spine.
Dante and I belonged to tangential social circles, but we’d never officially met. From what I’d heard of his reputation, I was happy keeping it that way.
Still, his presence was magnetic, and I felt the pull of it all the way across the room.
An insistent buzz against my hip washed away the tingles coating my skin and drew my attention away from Dante’s fan club. My stomach sank when I fished my personal cell out of my purse and saw who was calling.
I shouldn’t take personal calls in the middle of a work event, but one simply didn’t ignore a summons from Francis Lau.
I double-checked to make sure there were no emergencies requiring my immediate attention before I slipped into the nearest restroom.
“Hello, Father.” The formal greeting rolled off my tongue easily after almost twenty years of practice.
I used to call him Dad, but after Lau Jewels took off and we moved out of our cramped two-bedroom into a Beacon Hill mansion, he insisted on being called Father instead. Apparently, it sounded more “sophisticated” and “upper class.”
“Where are you?” His deep voice rumbled over the line. “Why is it so echoey?”
“I’m at work. I snuck into a bathroom to take your call.” I leaned my hip against the counter and felt compelled to add, “It’s a fundraiser for the endangered piping plover.”
I smiled at his heavy sigh. My father had little patience for the obscure causes people used as an excuse to party, though he attended the events donated anyway. It was the proper thing to do.
“Every day, I learn about a new endangered animal,” he grumbled. “Your mother is on a fundraising committee for some fish or other, like we don’t eat seafood every week.”
My mother, formerly an aesthetician, was now a professional socialite and charity committee member.
“Since you’re at work, I’ll keep this short,” my father said. “We’d like you to join us for dinner on Friday night. We have important news.”
Despite his wording, it wasn’t a request.
My smile faded. “ThisFriday night?” It was Tuesday, and I lived in New York while my parents lived in Boston.
It was a last-minute request even by their standards.
“Yes.” My father didn’t elaborate. “Dinner is at seven sharp. Don’t be late.”
He hung up.
