Chapter 8 - THE ENGAGEMENT THAT DIDN'T EXIST
By breakfast, Dominic had decided on a plan I hated.
“That is the worst idea I’ve heard all week.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“Still counts.”
Matteo didn’t know we suspected him.
The following night, dozens of business leaders and old family associates would attend the Vale Foundation winter gala.
Dominic believed Matteo would make his next move there.
“So you want me at a ballroom full of people who may or may not work for the man who threatened me?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You’ll have security.”
“Still no.”
He took a sip of coffee.
Then said:
“You’ll be beside me.”
“That somehow made it worse.”
The problem was that we needed Matteo to believe I had decoded my mother’s notebook.
Which I had.
We also needed him worried enough to expose himself.
Which meant making me visibly important to Dominic.
I should have known where this was going.
At eight the following evening, I entered the Metropolitan Club wearing a dark green dress Victoria’s tailor had somehow delivered without asking my permission.
Dominic stopped speaking when he saw me.
I immediately became uncomfortable.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Do I have something on my face?”
“No.”
“Then stop staring.”
His mouth curved.
“You clean up well.”
“I clean professionally. It would be embarrassing otherwise.”
He held out his arm.
The ballroom went quiet when we entered.
Not completely.
But enough.
People stared at Dominic.
Then me.
Then Dominic again.
I heard whispers.
Who is she?
That’s the Brooks woman.
Isn’t she staff?
Victoria appeared near the staircase.
Her smile froze.
Matteo watched from across the room.
Perfect.
Then a reporter approached.
“Mr. Vale, can you tell us who your guest is?”
Dominic should have said my name.
Instead, his hand settled at my waist.
“This is Elena.”
The reporter smiled.
“And your relationship?”
Dominic looked directly at Matteo.
Then answered:
“My fiancée.”
I nearly inhaled my champagne.
The reporter’s eyes widened.
Cameras flashed.
I smiled because murder was apparently frowned upon at charity events.
When the reporter left, I hissed:
“Fiancée?”
“You needed to appear important.”
“Girlfriend exists as a word.”
“Less effective.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“Smile.”
“I am smiling.”
“You look homicidal.”
“Accurate.”
Then Dominic leaned down.
His mouth brushed my ear.
“Matteo is moving.”
Across the ballroom, Matteo slipped through a service door.
Julian followed.
Seconds later, the lights flickered.
Someone shouted.
A fire alarm began ringing.
Guests moved toward the exits.
Dominic grabbed my hand.
We reached the corridor just as Julian returned.
“He’s gone.”
“What did he take?”
Julian held up the empty case where we had stored a fake copy of Grace’s ledger.
“He thinks he has the evidence.”
Good.
That was the plan.
Then my phone rang.
Marcy from the cleaning agency.
“Elena, I found something strange in our payment records.”
“What?”
“The person who requested your Montrose assignment didn’t just change the address.”
My stomach tightened.
“They requested you by name.”
“Who?”
Marcy told me.
The client account belonged to a shell company created seventeen years earlier.
The same week my mother died.
May you like
And the authorized signer wasn’t Matteo Russo.
It was Dominic Vale.
