"Heavy. The mayor's attendance guaranteed local news, but there are three society photographers stationed near the main entrance." Grant taps the screen. "We have the SUV waiting downstairs. The route is clear."
"Good." I drop my hand from my cuff.
"Sir." Grant hesitates. It is a rare thing for him to pause. "Are you entirely certain about this operational strategy? Walking her through the front door of a highly publicized event is a declaration of war. Preston will not take the humiliation lightly."
"I am counting on it," I say flatly.
My father operates on the assumption that I am a blunt instrument. He believes I exist solely to clean the blood off the Vance family name. Tonight, I am going to remind him that the instrument has a mind of its own, and it is currently pointed at his favorite son.
A soft rustle of fabric sounds from the hallway.
Grant immediately steps back, lowering the tablet and averting his eyes to the floor, giving her absolute privacy.
I turn around.
The air in my lungs simply stops.
Audrey stops at the edge of the living room. She is wearing a dress made of dark, liquid emerald silk. It drapes over her curves with a dangerous kind of elegance, leaving her shoulders and collarbone completely bare. A high slit up the left thigh reveals the sharp line of her leg and a pair of black stilettos. Her hair is swept up, exposing the long, pale column of her neck.
She looks like a weapon. A very expensive, very lethal weapon.
My chest tightens, a physical ache blooming right behind my ribs. I interpret it as satisfaction—the plan is coming together, the aesthetic is perfect—but the lie is thin, even to me.
"I feel like an imposter," Audrey says, breaking the silence. Her voice is tight. She runs her hands down the silk of the skirt, her fingers trembling slightly. "This dress costs more than the first car I ever bought. The makeup artist your team sentover contoured my face so aggressively I think I have new cheekbones."
"You look exactly as you are supposed to look," I say, forcing my voice to remain even.
I walk over to the bar cart, pour two fingers of Macallan into a crystal glass, and walk back to her. I hold it out.
She looks at the amber liquid, then up at me. "Is this a prop, or are you trying to sedate me?"
"I am trying to steady your hands," I reply.
She takes the glass. Her fingers brush mine, and her skin is freezing again. She takes a swallow, wincing slightly at the burn, but the color immediately returns to her cheeks.
"Better?" I ask.
"Marginally." She hands the glass back to me. "I spent the last two hours trying to figure out how to walk in these shoes without breaking an ankle. If I trip on the red carpet and ruin your dramatic entrance, I apologize in advance."
"You won't trip." I set the glass down on a side table. "You are going to hold my arm. You are going to look at the cameras, and you are going to smile like you have a secret that none of them can afford to buy."
She bites the inside of her cheek. The vintage diamond on her left hand catches the light from the chandelier above us.
"Simon is going to be there," she whispers. The sarcasm drops away, leaving the raw, unpolished fear beneath it.
"Yes."
"He’s going to have her with him. The receptionist." Her throat works as she swallows. "What if I freeze, Malcolm? What if he looks at me and I just... remember everything he took?"
I step closer to her. The scent of her perfume—something floral, cut with a sharp note of citrus—fills the space between us.
"You are not going to freeze," I say, keeping my voice low, anchoring her to the sound of it. "Because you are not the same woman he locked out of that office. That woman was a civilian. Tonight, you are a Vance."
She looks up at me, her eyes wide, searching my face for a lie.
I don't tell her the rest of it. I don't tell her about the cold, violent satisfaction that washed over me at four in the morning when I walked past her bedroom and saw that the deadbolt wasn't engaged. She left the door unlocked. She made a choice to trust the devil over the empty apartment.
"Ready?" I ask, offering her my arm.
