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It was easy to blend into the crowd because there were so many people there. No one glanced at us.
“You see him?” I asked.
“No. It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack.”
“Maybe he’s not here yet,” I said. “We’ll have to wait.”
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, Roan finally stepped into the building, a blond woman on his arm.
“Talk about being fashionably late…” Grave said.
“You’ll cause the distraction. I’ll walk by and drop it into his drink. Ready for this?”
Grave surveyed the scene, and his eyes narrowed on a target. “Uh, we’ve got a problem.”
“What?” I followed his eyes until I spotted her.
In a pale-blue dress with a high cut up her thigh, she looked like a princess with the sparkles in the material. Her blond hair had small curls in the strands, and her eyes had blue shadow to match. Her gaze locked on to mine, and as casually as possible, she moved across the room, drawing waves of attention with her.
I nodded to Grave, and we ducked back into the hallway. Otherwise, everyone at the gala would know we were there.
“What’s she doing here?” Grave asked.
“Why are you asking me?”
A moment later, Camille rounded the corner, looking like a goddamn supermodel.
I stared at her for a solid twenty seconds, unable to get my head out of the gutter and back in the game.
When Grave realized I was compromised, he took over. “What are you doing?”
“I called Bartholomew.” She was careful not to look at me, back to her typical coldness. “He told me about the plan.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Grave snapped. “What are you doinghere?”
“I’ve helped him with this sort of thing before, and I thought I could help you. I’m nobody, so a fake name can get me far. He, or anyone else, sees either of you, game over.” She finally looked at me, but the stare was brief before it shifted away again.
“What are you suggesting?” Grave saved. “You deliver the poison?”
“At the very least, I could distract him. I bump into him, get some wine on my chest, and then he’ll stare right at my tits for at least five seconds. It’s pretty thin material. I take off to the bathroom, and then Cauldron hands the new glass to the waiter and asks him to deliver it. Your faces will never be seen.”
Grave seemed to find merit in the plan because he looked at me for approval.
“No.”
Camille finally looked at me head on. “Why not—”
“Because this is our problem. Not yours.”
“Your well-being is my problem, both of you,” she snapped. “Now, let me help.”
“You aren’t putting yourself at risk—”
“She’s just spilling wine on herself,” Grave said. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” I asked coldly, looking at my brother instead.
