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I decided I didn’t like mango. Walker divided his attention between me and the gathering around President Cohen, searching the crowd. I couldn’t see Stephen Cohen-Rossi anymore.
“Mr. Walker,” A low, velvet voice said from behind me.
Walker and I turned. Up close, Steven’s resemblance to the President was striking. He wore an expensive suit, conservative in cut, though his shirt was half-unbuttoned. He’d come through the server’s entrance by the buffet. I clasped my braceleted wrist with my free hand. One twist and it would be the knife.
“Mr. Cohen-Rossi,” Walker said. “Hello. Why such a strange entrance?”
An easy smile framed his words. “Father wanted to talk to you as soon as possible, before he gives the , and asked me to let you know inconspicuously. Being resourceful, here I am.”
“Really.” Walker’s face and voice were so neutral it hurt. He bent down and kissed me, hands possessive on my back, taking his time and making a production of it. When he was done, he patted me on the cheek. “I can’t take you inside the President’s security. Stay here until I’m done, and there’ll be a nice tip later.”
My jaw dropped as he walked off. I’d not expected quite this crass a brush-off; was this how he’d treated the professionals he employed?
He was playing a role tonight. So was I. Or he’d better be. Suspicion crept into my heart on little cat feet again- he was meeting with the President without me, and he apparently held an important position here. I tried to let it go, reminding myself the emotions I’d felt from him before weren’t fake in any way. I would have been able to tell.
I just had to hope this little play of ours ended up being a comedy and not a tragedy. At least for me and Dmitri.
FOUR
Alys
“Call me Steve, by the way,” said Cohen-Rossi. He’d maneuvered around the buffet table to stand near me during Walker’s goodbye. His focus drifted from my breasts to my legs and back again as he turned up the wattage of his smile.
When his gaze finally returned to my face, his eyes glittered, the pupils huge: not at all what they should be at this light level. He wasn’t drunk, but I’d bet money I couldn’t afford to lose that he was impaired. An easier target for either possession or a mental working, though he didn’t currently seem under the influence of either. Easier to read, if it came to that, too.
“Anyone who’s that rude to someone as gorgeous as you, deserves to lose you,” he murmured into my ear, stepping closer. His arm slid around my waist. “There’s a private party upstairs, would you join me?”
I raised my brows. “Maybe,” I answered. I couldn’t get more than his surface emotions, but none of what I picked up from him was that bone-chilling hunger. Loneliness and horniness dominated the tangled mess.
A whistle and the breathless clatter of heels approached from the main mass of people. Joan half ran towards us, dressed all in yellow and towing Chance in her wake. She looked like a half-peeled banana. A long veil, held in place with a tiara, draped over her shaved head. Not the way I would have dealt with uneven hair from parts of it getting burned off during the fight at the house. It made me feel like the Wolves had won in some way by making her do that. Though a reaction to stress could make people do unusual things. Chance caught her by the elbow and supported her when she tripped on her hem just before she reached us.
“I hate heels,” she said, tottering.
“That was educational.” Chance’s voice was pure silk as he stared at me. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d ever turn up as arm candy, Alys, but the color of the dress really suits you.”
I picked up a piece of dragonfruit and contemplated jamming it up Chance’s nose. He had to know I was undercover and was jeopardizing the entire mission, apparently for amusement’s sake.
Steve’s arm tightened on my waist. “You’ve met?”
“In passing.” I turned to smile up in his eyes, turning the heat in my expression way up to distract him from Chance doing his level best to blow my cover. “Mr. Alfredsson is well known in some segments of society. Alys is short for Allison.”
Steve looked down at me and licked his lips, almost nervously. “It’s a beautiful name.”
“That dress is gorgeous! I want one too!” Joan’s cheeks were flushed.
“But not in gold,” I said. “I think just about any other color would be better.”
She rolled her eyes. “I like yellow, gold, and pink. And I’m an adult, so I can wear whatever I please.”
Her head tilted as she shifted her gaze to Steve. “She’s a member of the clothes police. Do they have badges?”
“I’ve never encountered them myself. Have we met?” Steve’s voice met all the standards of politeness while dismissing her so thoroughly most people would have backed off immediately.
“Not yet. I’m Joan Cameron and this is Chance Alfredsson. So glad to meet you! I’ve been away from the Guild for so long,” she gushed. Her face was covered with glitter, sparkling in the light.
I raised my brows. I was surprised Chance hadn’t persuaded her not to wear it. It didn’t flatter her, making her face appear thinner and pointier.
Joan pointed at the decorated stairs that swept up next to the table. “We were on our way up when we saw the big kiss, along with everyone else. People were staring!”
