His gaze lingers a beat too long before sliding past me to Kat.
She smiles, that polished socialite smile she’s perfected since marrying David.
“He’s one of David’s clients,” she whispers. “And before you get any ideas, he’swayout of your league.”
“I wasn’t getting any ideas,” I say, popping the canapé in my mouth out of spite.
But now I’m wondering… was itreallyan issue that David wasn’t able to come?
Because now it’s Kat who looks like she’s on the prowl, and more than happy to have arrived without him.
My sister gives a tight laugh. “You’ll never change.”
Maybe not.
I’m still the younger sister she loves to fix—or, more accurately, prove superior to.
She finds ways to mention in casual conversation that despite never even considering college, she’s doingextremely well.
And I’m on my third breakout of the month, stressed out after last semester’s grades posted.
We weave through the crowd, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses echoing off the vault’s high ceiling.
I try to take it all in—the sparkle, the mystery, the surreal sense that this is happening underground, beneath a city that has no idea what kind of beasts are dancing below its streets.
Kat leans in close. “You should mingle. But don’t over-share. And for God’s sake, don’t talk about your job or your degree. It’ll just confuse people.”
“Because conservation is such a radical concept?”
“Because no one here cares about trees, Roxy.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head, but inside, I’m annoyed.
Kat’s derision is like a thorn pricking my thin skin.
I’ll never admit it, but it bothers me that people don’t care as much as I do. “I can’t tell if you’re serious.”
“I’m always serious.”
Of course she is.
I slip away from her, needing a moment to breathe.
The crowd swells and folds around me—laughter, perfume, velvet brushing silk.
A quartet plays from a raised platform, the music a seductive hum that seems to pulse through the floor.
A waiter offers me champagne. I take it, if only to have something to hold. The bubbles sting pleasantly on my tongue.
I’m halfway through my first glass of champagne when I feel it.
That prickling sense of being watched.
My eyes flick to the side.
A figure moves through the crowd—a man, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in dark brown and black.
His mask is rougher than the others, carved like the face of a bear.
