"That sounds impressive."
"It's probably going to be boring as hell."
She laughed. "Not your scene?"
"Not at all. But the food and the alcohol should be good."
"I'm sure. What did Dominic tell you about Sergei Novik?"
"What you said earlier—that they've been rivals, that they've been part of investor groups, and that he doesn't believe Novik has a problem with him. Dominic also mentioned that he hasn't gotten to the top without making some enemies. He probably has as long a list of potential enemies as Samantha Barkley does."
"Great," she murmured. "I love a long list."
He smiled. "You mentioned you talked to a potential witness this afternoon?"
"Yes. Someone who delivered food to the apartment next to Jonas's. On his way out, he said he saw a tall guy with jet-black hair wearing all black clothing. He thought he heard someone say Cal and what the hell… But that was it."
"Well, that knife attack was quick and silent," he said.
"My team is looking into whether they can find anyone named Cal tied to the gym or the strip club. But you should run it by Dominic as well."
"I will, but we're not talking about the case tonight, remember? This is observation time."
"I already agreed," she said.
"You did, but I don't know if I can trust you," he said, flinging her a sharp look. "I know how much you want to solve this case."
"I do, but I'm also an excellent investigator. And I know when to watch and when to talk."
He liked her confidence, her intelligence, and also how damn pretty she was. It was a deadly combination, and he needed to be more concerned about keeping his own focus than worrying about Kara keeping hers.
Chapter Eight
The valet took Max's keys as they stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of Ceylon. The restaurant occupied the ground floor of a historic building; its facade was dark-red brick with iron-detailed accents. Warm light spilled through tall, diamond-paned windows. A discreet brass plaque beside the entrance was the only sign that this was one of the city's most exclusive dining establishments.
Max's hand found the small of her back as they approached the entrance, and Kara felt the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of her coat. She told herself the flutter in her stomach was just nerves about the investigation, nothing to do with how good he looked in that perfectly tailored suit or the way his green eyes had darkened when he'd seen her in this dress.
Stop it, she thought firmly. This is work. He's a potential witness. Possibly even a suspect if Dominic is involved.
But damn, he wore that suit well.
The maître d' greeted them. "Welcome. Mr. Ashford's party is upstairs in the private dining room. Isla will take you there."
An attractive blonde led them up a thickly carpeted staircase to the second floor. The private dining room was everything she'd expected: high ceilings with ornate molding, chandeliers that probably cost more than her annual salary, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the street below. About fifteen people were already there, champagne flutes in hand, engaged in polite conversation that came naturally to people who regularly attended twenty-five-thousand-dollar-a-plate fundraisers. Not that this was a formal fundraiser, but it certainly had to be about money.
Dominic spotted them immediately and crossed the room, his expression carefully neutral. He looked every inch the billionaire host in a navy suit, his blond hair perfectly styled, his smile practiced and somewhat cool.
"Max," he said, shaking his hand. Then his gaze moved to Kara, and she saw the brief flicker of wariness before he masked it. "Kara. Max mentioned you might join us."
"Thank you for including me." She extended her hand, and his grip was firm, assessing.
"Of course. Let's get you both some champagne." He waved a server over, who offered them champagne, and then moved toward a trio of men who had just arrived.
She sipped her champagne as her gaze scanned the room of rich and beautiful people. "So, who's who?" she murmured to Max.
Before he could answer, a striking blonde woman in an emerald cocktail dress made her way toward them with a purposeful stride that suggested she wasn't about to be ignored. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, with sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes.
"Hello, Max," she said with a British accent. "I didn't realize you'd be joining us tonight."
