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LILY
I feellike I’m on autopilot as I attend the gala that evening. I can’t stop thinking about those disturbing pictures and I feel guilty, even though that’s insane. What could I have possibly done to stop that man from being killed? I have no power over Nero. I’m useful to him, that’s all.
Despite my plan to continue on this path, I feel haunted by what I’ve seen. Greggs’ words keep replaying in my mind.
Do you want to be the next body?
Or your brother?
This gala has a silent auction and we’re circling the tables with high-dollar items. Trips to Europe, dining at the chef’s table at a five-star restaurant, and even a boat. Nero remains pleasant, smiling on cue, and acting like the doting fiancé.
He’s getting better at the act, just like me. He barely even flinches when we touch.
A waiter walks by with a tray of champagne, and I turn to grab a glass. Being a little tipsy tonight certainly won’t be a bad thing. But then my eyes land on Ian McKenna standing on the other side of the room. His wife, Fiona, is nowhere to be seen, but I’ve picked up on the fact that he’s a social butterfly, so this isn’t surprising.
What has caught my attention is that he’s talking to Brittany. They aren’t touching or even standing too close to each other, but there’s something about the look in her eyes as she gazes up at him.
It’s like she has stars in her eyes.
And Ian? Well, he’s not exactly keeping his distance. He leans closer to murmur something, and Brittany tosses her head back to laugh. Their eyes lock, just for a moment, and then they move an appropriate distance apart again, but that one glimpse was enough.
Suddenly, everything clicks into place.
I think about the weird vibe I picked up on when I first met Brittany at the hunting lodge. She definitely has an issue with Fiona, whatever she might smile.
Jealousy, perhaps? And guilt… For sleeping with her husband.
It would make sense. It also explains Brittany’s comment about a special someone buying her jewelry. If that was her husband, she wouldn’t need to be cagey about it. But if it’s Ian McKenna, beloved politician…
Well, that’s a different story.
I tug Nero’s arm. “Let’s get some air,” I say meaningfully. I steer us to a small courtyard, away from the crowd.
“What is it?” Nero tenses, just being alone with me.
“I think I might have something…” I fill him in on my suspicions. “I know it’s not much to go on, but I have an instinct. There’s a weird vibe going on.”
Nero doesn’t say anything, but he looks thoughtful.
“Is it useful?” I ask, wanting to remind him I’m here for a reason.
“Could be. I’ll look into it.”
I can’t help feeling disappointed, but I let it go. I’ll just have to keep watching those two for more signs that I’m right.
The gala drags on, and Nero gets a small opportunity to talk to McKenna. This time, he seems to have listened to me: The guys chat about sports, and cars, and nothing remotely related to work. I even see McKenna laugh and slap Nero’s back over something.
Progress. Thank God.
“You know what I don’t understand?” Nero asks me as a waiter stops by with a tray of stuffed mushrooms. “Why do they schedule these things during dinner hours, then serve these pretentious little bites?”
I agree. “You remember the sausage and mushroom pizza we used to get at Rowdy’s?” I ask.
I swear something softens in Nero’s eyes as he looks at me. I wonder if he’s remembering all the good times we had at our favorite pizza place, back when we were sneaking around. We must have spent hours hiding out in the back booth, splitting a pie with extra cheese, talking about everything under the sun.
Nero puts his champagne glass down on the table. “You know what? Let’s go get some real food.”
I don’t believethe old pizza joint will still be standing until we walk through the doors and the memories hit me.
