“I’m sorry for your loss,Mrs. Davenport.” I didn’t know why I stressed her title and last name. Was that to remind her to play her role? Was I still trying to prevent a scandal? Or was this personal?
Her nose flared, and for a second, a sneer marred her beautiful features. She opened her mouth to say something, closed it, inhaled sharply before saying a flat “Thank you.”
Kirill rested his hand on the small of my back to hurry me along, but I was walking away like I couldn’t wait to escape their drama
“This was a bad idea,” I muttered when I was sure Anya couldn’t hear us.
“Don’t need to sharpen the kitten claws,” Kirill said. “The woman just lost her husband.”
I nodded. It would be in poor taste to air the things I wanted to ask Kirill about his relationship with Anya. As closed off as he was, I doubted I was going to get anything out of him. Despite our impending marriage, I still didn’t feel like I had the right to demand his deepest and darkest secrets.
“Zahkarov.” Someone Kirill knew stopped him for a chat. After introductions, the gentleman pulled Kirill off to a corner to talk further. I was thirsty, so I headed to the bar and groaned to see a long line. There was a table that had several dispensers of fancy infused water. Maybe that was better than alcohol. My stomach grumbled.
Great.
I cast an annoyed glance at Kirill, who was still in deep conversation with the gentleman. I was in unfamiliar territory. In DC, I was familiar with the beltway power players, the smooth-talking lobbyists. In this crowd, they appeared to be the upper crust of society, the puppeteers who financed and manipulated players. But this De Lucci never backed down from a challenge to spar with the overlords.
But a hangry De Lucci was not fun to be around, so I made my way to the refreshment table and started making a plate for myself. I didn’t cook. And without supervision, I piled on the junk food. Well, funerals featured comfort food. I went for the fried cheese sticks, fried calamari, and something that looked like vegetables layered with more cheese.
“What’s good here?” a deep voice asked behind me. I angled my body to see it was the younger of the two I noticed at the cemetery. He had on a friendly smile, and I noticed his eyes were a deep shade of blue. Certainly not pale icy ones like Kirill’s.
“Everything,” I said and turned my attention back to the table, but was immediately on guard. Interesting. No doubt they had it in for Kirill. This was the charismatic one as opposedto the broody one. The friendlier one was sent to charm information out of me.
I spooned mac and cheese onto my plate. Scooped more than I should have because it overfilled my plate. Luncheon plates at funeral receptions of the rich were dainty. My eyes swept around the area to look for Kirill. I spotted his unmistakable physique, but his back was to me. My eyes fell on Anya. She was frowning in my direction, and I didn’t imagine the alarmed look on her face.
Aha, I wondered if the man who cornered Kirill was working with this one. Did they think I was Kirill’s trophy date? We hadn’t announced our engagement yet until the prenup was finalized, so it was possible this man didn’t know who I was.
“So how do you know Anya?” he asked.
My stomach grumbled again. Ugh…I would have loved to mess with this stranger, but my low blood sugar was limiting my brain’s ability to be a smartass.
So I turned to him and said, “You know who I came with.” Despite my irritation, I smiled sweetly. “And just FYI, I’m not his arm candy. Get your information elsewhere.”
His shocked expression calmed my irritability. Putting men who underestimated me in their place certainly fed my soul.
I gave the rest of the refreshments table a longing look before I strode off to find a corner where no one could interrupt me as I tried as much as possible not to shove food into my mouth. I grabbed a tiny bottle of Coca-Cola along the way, thankful for the easy twist cap.
I found a quiet place where a few people conversed somberly and set my plate down on a cocktail table. I twisted the cap of the soda off to give myself a quick hit of sugar. Mamma always lectured me to fix my diet before I ended up with diabetes.
After a couple of forkfuls of mac and cheese, I worked on the mozzarella sticks and calamari, each bite restoring balance tomy brain and my ability to think. Movement made me look up from my plate. Anya was heading my way.
She stopped briefly to talk to the other guests, but there was no question she wanted a word with me.
When she stopped in front of me, her eyes dropped to my almost empty plate. She smiled tightly. “I hope you had enough to eat.”
I put down my plate and finished chewing before I said, “Oh yes, the food was?—”
“Good.” She clasped my elbow to lead me away.
Curiosity piqued, I let her guide me to a door. She looked right and then left before opening it and dragging me into the room. I recognized the row of law books on the wall.
“What did Jeremiah King want with you?”
“I’m assuming you’re talking about the gentleman behind me at the food table.”
Anya squinted her eyes. “Of course, who else?”
“He was wondering how I knew you.”
