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But Mr. Thomas has that same suspicious air Dad develops whenever he’s thinking over information he’s been given.
“I’m coming to get you,” Salvatore says. “Stay where you are.”
“Well, I have a son who would love to meet you. I wish he were here tonight, but perhaps we can set up a dinner between you two. He’s an assistant district attorney in Easton. Very handsome and polished. Tall, unlike me.” The tech CEO pauses to laugh at his own joke. “Now that he’s in his thirties, he’s ready to find a wife who will be great on his arm and bearing his children. You have no idea how perfect you two would be.”
“Mr. Thomas, I have a boyfriend.”
“One dinner can’t hurt.”
“No thank you.”
“You can meet him and then decide.”
My temper is rising, my smile faltering, as I try to force myself to play along. Somehow, Mr. Thomas is even more persistent than his son. Just as I’m about to snap at him, he drops the matter altogether.
Someone else appears in his line of vision, coming up from behind me, and distracts him.
“Ernest! Long time, no see!”
The tone in the room shifts at once. My irritation with Damon Thomas vanishes, becoming inconsequential as my heart leaps in my throat, and I’m darting between other party guests.
“Excuse me, I have to use the ladies room.”
“But I was about to introduce you to—”
I don’t hang around long enough for him to finish his sentence. I’m squeezing through a crowd of others, putting as many people between us as possible. Many grunt and gasp, expressing offense over my rudeness, forcing my way through.
Manners simply don’t matter right now.
I don’t slow down until I’m sure I’ve blended in enough. It helps that I’ve fallen behind a group of men in tuxedos who stand above six feet, discussing the stock market exchange amongst themselves. With slow caution, I peek around them to where only seconds ago, I stood with Mr. Thomas.
He’s engaged with Dad and Lena. The conversation seems cordial. Lena’s even smiling more sincerely than she was earlier.
Another relieved breath leaves me.
“Where are you?” Salvatore asks in my ear.
“I had a close run in with my father,” I whisper.
“And Geno? He’s not answering his mic.”
I glance around. WhereisStitches? He was supposed to grab us champagne…
I’m swept away before I can answer. The group of men along with a few others, begin walking in unison and I fall into step with them without even trying. We’re leaving the main party room. As we reach the archway, I slow down and turn to go back, but the people behind me keep walking toward me.
All of them are animated, chatting away in audible excitement. Behind their masks, their eyes glitter. Where are we going?
I half consider shoving my way out of the mobile group, then decide against it—the alternatives don’t sound much better.
Salvatore’s on a different level altogether. Stitches is nowhere to be found. Dad and Mr. Thomas are in the main party room.
None of us have even really begun looking for my attacker.
The primary reason we’re here tonight.
It’s possible I can find him by exploring wherever we’re headed. I have my earpiece and mic and can contact Salvatore and Stitches if I find him.
We file into a glass elevator that takes us up four floors. The bright chandeliers and pristine marble of the main party floor disappear for moodier, woodier decor. We emerge on a floor that’s dimmer and smells of expensive oak and warm smoke.
