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LONDON
Iadded a little more dark eyeshadow, then pulled out my lipstick—my favorite glimmering amber color.
Next, I fiddled with my hair. It was in my signature ponytail. I didn’t want to call any attention to myself.
I looked at my dress. Okay, not too much attention.
At first glance, the dress looked demure. It was plain black, and hugged my body, with a high neck, and long sleeves. But it had two large cutouts at the sides that showed my skin and hip bones, and each were held together by a string of shimmering crystals.
It was by some designer that Lexxie had insisted I buy. Thankfully, it had been on consignment.
I hadn’t worn it before tonight.
I looked forward to Kavner seeing it.
Kavner. I pressed my hands to the cool granite of the vanity. I’d kissed Kavner. Touched him. His mouth had been on me.
And I wanted more.
I was starting to believe he wasn’t involved in anything to do with my investigation, but tonight, I was keeping my hands to myself.
I found my evening handbag, slipped my phone inside, then headed out. As I reached the street, a powerful engine roared.
It was the Lamborghini again. It suited him—expensive, sleek, a little flashy. I would never have guessed that he’d lived on the streets as a child. My chest tightened. I was realizing there was a lot more to him than I’d guessed.
The powerful car slid to a stop in front of me. I opened the car door. He was in a suit, and it looked like he’d been born behind the wheel of a fast car. Tonight, the suit was black, as was the shirt beneath it. It made him look lethal, dangerous.
“Mr. Fury.”
“I think we’re way past that, London.”
I slid in and nodded. “Kavner.”
“There. That didn’t hurt, did it?”
He pulled away from the curb.
“So, whose party is this?” I asked.
“Jeffrey M. Fields.”
My eyes widened. “Oh, wow.” He was well known in New Orleans. One of the wealthiest residents.
“Please don’t accuse him of money laundering.”
I shot him a look.
We headed west along St. Charles Avenue. I didn’t watch the passing traffic, instead I watched Kavner.
“I guess I understand why you’re so driven to be rich.”
He glanced my way. “When you’ve had nothing at all, believe me, having money is important. It gives you control, choices. But you have to be careful not to let it change you. Deep down, you have to live up to your values.”
“What do you value?”
“Family. Above all else.” He shrugged. “Hard work, kindness, loyalty.”
I just stared at him. How wrong had I been about this man? How much had I let my past cloud my judgement?
