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“Not yet,” Mark replied, winking.
Ari snorted, stepping into the room behind the couple. He’d changed from his matte black shirt to a shiny black version, and he looked very sleek and elegant, apart from his beady eyes.
The brothers, George and Gregory, were already seated across from Amelia and Leo, and Robert Lafontaine, the fixer, was diagonally across from Amelia, on Fred’s left.
Ari took the empty seat on Fred’s right, and Vanessa and her beau settled beside Leo.
Someone in this room had taken Nadia’s twelve-million-dollar ring. Amelia scanned the faces, their expressions ranging from bored to shrewd to cheery, and she had no idea who the culprit could be.
“This color really brings out your eyes,” Vanessa said to Leo, touching the fabric of his forest-green shirt. In light of their latest lesson on flirting, Amelia side-eyed the touch and the compliment. The other woman was laying it on pretty thick, especially considering her date was sitting just the other side of her, and Leo’s supposed fiancée was on just the other side of him. That made her a person of questionable morals—but it didn’t make her a thief.
Ari leaned toward Fred. “How’s Nadia doing? Did she find her ring?”
Amelia tried not to make it obvious she was listening. Was Ari ingratiating himself with Fred to avoid suspicion because he’d stolen the ring, or was he just being polite?
“Nadia is taking the evening off,” Fred said, not answering the question about the ring. So he was keeping his cards close to his chest.
“Big rock,” Cora noted, eyes on her glass of wine.
Fred just grunted.
Amelia glanced down the table and found Robert Lafontaine watching her. The older man lifted his glass toward her, then bent his head toward his wife, seated to his left, to murmur quiet words to her. He was Goodhew’s fixer. What did that mean, exactly? Did he do anything illegal for the company? Could he be tempted by twelve million dollars’ worth of vivid pink diamond?
Mark guffawed a couple of seats over, startling Amelia out of her thoughts. Vanessa’s date called a waiter over to refill his wine, clearly comfortable making the most of the free booze. Amelia, on the other hand, couldn’t relax. Paranoia rose in her with every interaction and every glance. This stupid retreat was terrible for her health. She made it through the four-course dinner, chatting and laughing, pretending that everything was okay. Every time Fred’s eyes landed on her, she tried not to freeze up. He watched everyone at the table as the meal progressed, and Amelia knew he was sniffing out lies.
She just hoped he wouldn’t sniff out hers and Leo’s. If suspicion fell on the two of them because of their false engagement, would it snowball into accusations of theft?
Best not to find out.
“So, Amelia,” Vanessa said, scooping a tiny bit of semifreddo onto her spoon. “Tell me about your band.” She stuck the spoon into her mouth in a sensual, slow movement. Everything the woman did was sensual. Her clothing was fitted but not too tight, with just enough cleavage to be enticing but not vulgar.
It was impressive.
If she wasn’t hanging onto Leo’s arm and using every excuse to brush her breasts against him, Amelia thought she might be better off asking Vanessa for flirting advice instead of Leo.
Instead, she smiled. “We’re The Nymphomaniacs,” she said, and she was able to keep a straight face because she’d practiced in the mirror for an hour yesterday. “We play soft pop-rock-punk.” That was the description Leo had given everyone, which was as nonsensical as it was ridiculous.
The man seriously needed to come up with better cover stories in the future. She could have been talking about airplane service and safety measures right now if he’d just told them he was engaged to a flight attendant like a normal person.
“How fascinating,” Vanessa said. “And you’re able to support yourself with your music?”
Odd question. Amelia took a second to study the other woman. She’d spoken loudly enough that Fred’s attention swung to them. Was Vanessa purposefully planting seeds in her boss’s mind? Had she stolen the ring and was now deflecting suspicion?
“Amelia’s band is really successful,” Leo said, stretching his arm behind her chair. “They just got signed to a major record label.”
What. The. Heck.
Leo’s announcement was met with an avalanche of congratulations and follow-up questions, which meant Amelia needed to lie on the fly, which also meant she wanted to take her bowl of semifreddo and smash it over Leo’s perfect, expensive haircut.
By the time dinner was over, Amelia was dead on her feet. When the door closed on their suite, she was no closer to figuring out who’d taken Nadia’s ring, having eliminated no one and convinced herself that any one of the people at the table could have taken it.
“You really dumped me in the shit with that record label announcement,” she grumbled at Leo.
He was busy grabbing pillows from the bed to make up the sofa where he’d spend the night. He fluffed them against the arm of the couch before glancing at Amelia. “You did well.”
“No thanks to you.”
The undercurrent of tension and suspicion she’d felt through the whole dinner had worn Amelia’s nerves down. She wasn’t used to interacting with so many people, especially not when she was meant to keep up a façade. She was in way over her head, and she was beginning to realize that she’d gotten the raw end of the deal.
