“And are you prepared to dance with him?”
I press my lips together, apply the lipstick, then blot once on a square of tissue to take the shine down. It gives me time to compose myself before I reply. “I’m there to work, not party.”
“You know he’ll expect you to dance with him.”
“There’ll be a lot of people there. I’ll probably dance with a few of them.” Won’tthatbe embarrassing.
If I can get away with it, I’ll dance with none of them and keep to the edges, asking careful questions. Alex can dance with whomever he wants.
“Well… you look stunning. I love those earrings.”
“Thank you,” I say flatly. They’re long diamond drops, the only pair I have that go with this ridiculous dress, but Alex gave them to me. Carol can have them after tonight.
“What time does it start?”
“Eight.”
“It’s already… uh…”
“I wasn’t planning on being on time.”
“And why would you be?” Carol says with a smirk. “They should all wait for you.”
Procrastination has been my mantra so far this evening, but there are no more reasons to delay. I retrieve my phone, order a yellow cab on the app, then slide it into the clutch that matches this dress. Needless to say, Alex bought that too.
Hell, everything I’m wearing Alex paid for, right down to my shoes. Doesn’tthatset the theme for tonight.
I pick up my coat (Max Mara’s finest cashmere—Alex’s money), say goodbye to Carol, and head on outside as the cab arrives.
The journey takes forty-five minutes, far too long to sit and think about the stupidity I’m currently undertaking. And it’ll be nine o’clock before I arrive. Plus eighty-three dollars for this ride, making a sizeable dent in my paltry bank balance. Same again for the return; I suppose I can expense it against the business.
“There you go,” the cabbie announces as he eases to the curb. He’s watching me in his rearview mirror. “Have a great night.”
“Thank you.” The alert comes up on my app, and I add a tip, trying not to grimace as my bank account plunges further, then open my door. It’s freezing out in this dress, even with my coat, but only a few steps to the entry to the club. There’s an imposing wrought-iron gate, with a burgundy awning on the sidewalk, giving access through one side. A uniformed man stands within.
Will he ask for an invitation? Maybe not telling Alex was a stupid mistake.
I brazen it out anyway, walking up to him. Surely my getup makes it clear I belong?
“Good evening, ma’am.” He lifts the clipboard he’s holding. “May I please have your name?”
I relax, letting out the breath I was holding. Of course Alex would’ve put me on the list. “Victoria Callahan.”
The man runs his finger down his page. Frowns. Repeats the exercise. Glances at me, and checks for a third time. “Ma’am, would you step in here please?” He gestures to the courtyard area behind the wrought iron, still open to the elements.
I walk in as bidden, standing there feeling like the world’s most conspicuous mistake, trying not to bite at my lip and smudge my makeup. It’s obvious what the problem is: Alexhasn’tput me on the list.
This is a complete waste of time and money. I’ve screwed Lucy’s case before I’ve even started, missed out on the chance to find Amelia or Lukas Van Wyk, and now Alex will think I didn’t come.
For a moment, I consider reaching for my phone. Calling him, letting him know I’m here.
But I can’t bear the thought he’s brought someone else. The disappointment in his tone while I beg to come in, wasting his time.Sonot happening.
The security guard has his finger to his ear, speaking into a mic on his wrist. “A Victoria Callahan. Yes. No, not on the list. Yes. Very well.”
He turns to me, and I brace my shoulders. “Wait here, please, Miss.”
A downgrade in both my title and his attitude. He’s between me and the exit. Not only can I not get in, now I can’t even leave.
