She looked away as they glided past Tems. As Sydney passed him, though, Winter saw him slide something small into the pocket of her suit. She didn’t pause at all, but her hand went into her pocket to check that she had received it.
Of course Winter knew what Tems was doing—handing her a ticket that they would need when Winter made his move. But the jealousy rose hot and swift in his chest all the same. The memory of Sydney’s vulnerable gaze from the night before flooded his thoughts, and Winter swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep the smile on his face and follow the stream of guests farther into the palace.
“Hey,” Gavi said in a low voice as they reached the end of the hall, stopping in front of the coat check desk. “I don’t want us to spend the entire night lingering on this whole mess about your father. I’m sorry. I really, truly am. I never should have agreed to it.”
He sighed, his eyes fixed on the main atrium that they now entered. “Let’s just walk together and pretend like we’re cordial, all right?”
Gavi straightened and frowned. “So all the headlines tomorrow are gossiping about how miserable we looked?”
“It’d be nice if there were no headlines at all, because no one cares.”
Gavi sighed. When he looked at her, she seemed sober, her face unusually serious. “Look, Winter,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how to apologize for last night.”
“For starters,” he said coldly, “you could stop working with my dad.”
“I’ve stopped. I promise.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Winter, please.” She struggled for words for a moment. “I know I owe you a favor after all that. Maybe a lot of favors. I’m sorry. Can’t we talk about it?”
He sighed. “You know, it’s always a game with you.”
Her expression darkened. “I’m not playing right now.”
He turned away from her. “I just want this day to end,” he said. “So we can go our separate ways. Let’s leave it at that.”
Gavi fell into a sullen silence as they headed into the banquet hall.
Round tables dotted the space, around which milled an assortment of guests, some of whom Winter recognized. There were presidents and foreign dignitaries, ambassadors wearing sashes in their nation’s colors and celebrities sporting pins of their country’s flags.
Winter searched for Rosen. The US president hadn’t arrived yet.
“Laugh with me,” he murmured to Gavi as they went.
Gavi, to her credit, transformed from her irritated, sullen state into a smiling girl with sparkling eyes. She giggled at him, one of her gloved hands coming up to cover her mouth.
Winter sensed Sydney turning to look at them—but when he glanced at her, she was focused on the banquet tables again.
They made their way amicably through the crowd before they finally reached one of the tables in the center of the room. There, they sat together at their place settings. As Gavi turned away to talk to one of their tablemates, an editor from a prominent French magazine, Winter looked around the room, searching for the people they were here to see. His heart pounded steadily against his ribs, and he could hear a roar in his ears, as if his body were bracing itself for impact.
A soft nudge from Sydney’s boot under the table made him turn his head toward her. She turned her head slightly to her right as she sipped her water.
There. He could see Minister Seah standing a few feet from his banquet table, laughing at something that the ambassador from Argentinawas saying. A short distance away, flanked by two bodyguards, President Rosen chatted casually with several other heads of state.
A tingle of anticipation ran down his spine. The president had shown up, and Winter needed to make his move soon.
Sydney leaned toward Winter, as if they were deep in conversation. As she did, she pulled out what Tems had given her. It was a small red ticket, and on it was written a number.
4262
The ticket was printed twice, as if the attendant had failed to rip it in two. Sydney made a show of frowning visibly, then leaned toward his ear. If anyone was watching them, they’d just think it was an error on a ticket. “The valet code for Seah’s hat and umbrella,” she replied.
Winter nodded, a knot forming in his throat. It was his cue; he would use the code to approach Seah and get him to follow Winter to where Tems had CIA agents lying in wait to arrest him.
Sydney met his eyes. The awkwardness between them faded, and for a moment, they looked at each other meaningfully. “Ready?” she said.
Winter didn’t answer, but he gave a nearly imperceptible nod, then touched her hand briefly before sitting straight and glancing around the chamber. At his side, Gavi paused in her conversation with the editor to look up at him.
