“Like you’re about to do something reckless.”
“Good.That’s exactly the look I was going for.”
She grabbed her gold clutch and checked its contents one more time.Lipstick, room key, and the compact.She snapped it shut and looked at Omar.“Give me twenty minutes after I leave.Then you go.”
He stood and crossed to her, pulling her into his arms.For a moment they just held each other.Then he kissed her forehead, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.
“Be careful,” he murmured against her skin.
“Always am.”
“Did you forget how we met?I know that’s a lie.”
She smiled through her nerves.“Yeah, it is.”
The midday hour was in full swing when Marielle emerged on the pool deck.Poppy and Brad were already well on their way to drunk, arguing loudly about something.Idris sat apart from them, his expression thunderous, one hand possessively gripping Hanna’s thigh.The Secret Service agents lurked near the bar, their eyes constantly scanning.
Marielle headed straight for the bar and ordered a martini.Then another.She made a show of drinking them quickly, laughing too loud at Brad’s jokes, stumbling slightly in her heels.
“Whoa there, Margaux!”Poppy giggled.“Pace yourself!”
“It’s our last hurrah!”Marielle declared, her words just slightly slurred.“We should celebrate!”
She ordered another drink and surreptitiously poured it into the potted palm she was leaning against, where it joined the first two.Sorry, tree.
Omar appeared twenty minutes later, playing his part perfectly—the concerned husband trying to rein in his tipsy wife.“Maybe we should get some food in you,ma minoune.”
“I’m not hungry!I want to dance!”She grabbed his hand and spun, deliberately unsteady.
No music was playing, but she pulled him onto the pool deck anyway.She pressed against him, her arms around his neck, and whispered: “Ready?”
“No,” he whispered back.“But do it anyway.”
She kissed him—hard and desperate and real—then pulled away with a laugh that was too bright.She stumbled toward the infinity pool.
“Margaux, careful, you’re—” Omar reached for her.
She spun away from him, laughing, and let herself stumble for real.
Her ankle turned in the ridiculous heels.Her arms windmilled.The clutch flew from her hand, arcing through the air.
And then she was falling, the world tilting, the pool rushing up to meet her.
The water was surprisingly cold.For a moment she just let herself sink, her ears filled with the muffled sound of shouting above.
Then hands were grabbing her, pulling her up.She broke the surface gasping and sputtering.
“I got you, I got you.”Brad, of all people, had jumped in after her.
“My purse!”she wailed, pointing to where her gold clutch floated on the surface.
One of the crew members fished it out, and Marielle burst into tears, apologizing ‘drunkenly’ to everyone.
In the chaos of guards rushing to the pool, Poppy shrieking, the Vice President’s son’s heroics, and crew members bringing towels.Omar slipped away toward the stairs.
She’d bought him twenty minutes, maybe thirty.
It had to be enough.
