Page 30 of Velvet Vaughn

She didn’t.

She picked up her fork instead.

The first bite was shockingly good. The cheddar had gone sharp and melty, and the butter on the toast likely cost extra at a grocery store but was worth it. Anja closed her eyes for the length of one chew. She’d been running since early this morning, and her body had just remembered that detail.

Leo chuckled. “That’s a sound.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m taking notes.”

“Eat your eggs, De Luca.”

He was smiling. Not broadly, but it was the first time she’d seen it since the hallway two hours ago, and her heart had, inconveniently, recorded it. He was smiling at a woman making an appreciative noise over eggs he’d cooked in the middle of a really terrible day.

Anja was three bites in when Leo set his fork down and swore under his breath.

She kept chewing. “That bad?”

“I just remembered something.”

“What’s that?”

He tipped his head back and aimed a slow exhale at the ceiling. The exhaustion she’d been tracking in his shoulders for the last hour climbed a few inches up his neck.

“Curtis’s fundraiser is tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch. “Tonight.”

She waited.

“It’s a benefit for pediatric cancer. He throws it every year to coincide with the golf tournament. Black tie, the whole nine yards. Pinnacle has four tables near the front.” He brought his head back down and met her gaze. “I can’t skip it. It’s a huge deal. Plus, a few of my clients are flying in for it.”

“Is Devonte one of them?”

“Yes, and his wife. They’re presenting a check on behalf of his foundation.”

She set her fork down beside her plate and lined it up parallel to the knife. “What time?”

“Cocktails at six. Dinner at eight.”

“Venue?”

“The Chase Park Plaza. Khorassan Ballroom.”

“How many at your table?”

“Each seats ten.”

“And Devonte’s flying in today?”

“He’s already here. They landed last night.”

Anja drummed two fingers on the island and regarded how the fluorescent pulse from the underside of his range hood reflected on the dark stovetop. A black-tie ballroom would be packed with Pinnacle’s employee roster. Devonte Cross would be in the same room, eating prime rib, with no idea his son’s daycare pickup window was sitting on a thumb drive in his agent’s kitchen.

She didn’t love it. She didn’t hate it either.

“You’re going, and I’m going with you, and between the salad and the entrée, you’ll need to find time to question Devonte.”

Leo took that in without moving. His hand clutched the water bottle she’d put in front of him forty minutes ago, but his eyes had cleared. Whatever fatigue had been climbing his neck was receding.