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Her eyes narrow slightly. “These events bring together such an…interesting group of people.”
“Interesting” isn’t the word I’d use, but I keep that thought to myself. Instead, I ask, “And what brings you here tonight, Ms. Moreau?”
“Supporting a good cause, of course,” she replies, staring straight into my face. “It’s certainly an extravaganza.”
“It’s quite fun, isn’t it?” I say, gazing around with a smug smile, mostly to annoy her.
Ah, the old hypocrisy jab. Why spend so much money entertaining the One Percent when I could send it all to charity? What none of those wielding that particular sword seem to realize is how muchmoremoney comes out the other side when I hold functions like this.
“Do you often hold such functions?” Natalie persists.
“Oh, in between partying, when the mood strikes me. You know how it is.” I don’t bother holding back the sarcasm. Doesn’t this little bottle-blonde know who I am?
Alicia gives a strangled laugh. “Well,” she says, with a furious glare at Natalie. “We should probably mingle before the bidding starts.”
“It was nice to meet you, Ms. de Luca,” Natalie says, sounding as though it was anything but.
“Likewise,” I reply tersely, watching her walk away.
What an odd guest for Alicia to bring. A social climber, perhaps? Though her caring so little for the vultures in this room speaks otherwise.
No, she’s quite a mystery—and I do so enjoy unraveling secrets. I’ll have to keep an eye on Ms. Moreau tonight.
My attention turns back to the auction as the bidding begins. The stage is elaborately decorated, with an enormous gilded mirror hanging behind the auctioneer, reflecting the shimmering lights and the eager faces of the attendees. I watch from my vantage point as items are presented one by one: rare paintings, exquisite jewelry, and experiences money can’t usually buy.
The bids fly back and forth like well-aimed arrows. Juno, ever the show-woman, makes a grand gesture of bidding an exorbitant amount on a breathtaking Picasso lithograph. Beside her, Caitlin watches with a mixture of amusement and adoration. I can’t help but smile at the spectacle they create.
Juno and a businessman from Dubai get locked into a heated duel, prompting cheers from the crowd as the bids climb. Whichever of them triumphs, the charity is the ultimate winner.
The Picasso finally sells to Juno—of course—for a staggering sum, and the auctioneer moves on to the final item of the night—dinner for two at Jacques Auclair’s latest restaurant, with yours truly as the dining companion. “Let’s start the bidding at ten thousand dollars!”
Immediately, several hands shoot up. I arrange my features in a look of polite acquiescence while inwardly sighing. More tedious small talk over haute cuisine…joy. At least it’s for a good cause.
The bids climb higher in a cutthroat back and forth, and the three highest bidders are not people with whom I’d enjoy spending time. But needs must. When they reach fifty thousand, I assume we’ve found our victor. But to my surprise, a clear voice rings out from the back of the room.
“One hundred thousand dollars!”
A ripple of shock sweeps the room. I turn in disbelief to see none other than Natalie Moreau, hand raised calmly. Our eyes meet and something like a challenge sparks in her gaze.
Applause erupts as Natalie secures her prize.
I don’t know what game this woman is playing, but I’m not about to let her win. I catch her eye and lift my glass in a subtle toast.
“What on earth is that about?” says a voice in my ear.
With a sigh, I turn to face Juno. “My time is precious, darling, as you’ve just heard. So get to the point?”
Juno, as usual, does. “Who is that woman?”
“I’ve no idea. Quite a mystery.”
“Then I hope you’ll be careful,” Juno warns. “It’s never wise to get too close to a mystery, Alessa.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I shrug off her concern. She should know better, anyway. Telling me not to do something is a surefire way to make me want to do it, just to be contradictory.
But deep down, I know Juno is probably right. There’s something about Natalie that draws me in like a moth to a flame, and that never ends well for the moth.
I make my way around the outskirts of the room, and manage to make Natalie Moreau jump when I slide up behind her to murmur in her ear: “It seems we’ll be getting to know each other better soon.”
