Chapter 7 7

The ballroom at the Pierre Hotel was a sea of tuxedos and jewels. The air smelled of expensive perfume and ambition.

Eve walked in on Richard's arm. She felt the eyes on her immediately. The gold dress was doing its job. It caught the light, making her look like a walking trophy.

She kept her head high, but her eyes were scanning the room.

Up on the mezzanine level, behind a pane of tinted glass, Delos French sat in a leather chair.

He was watching the monitors.

"The earring is a custom piece from the 'Monarch' collection," Marcus said, standing beside him. "Only three pairs were sold in New York."

"Find them," Delos said. His voice was flat. He twirled the single diamond butterfly in his fingers. The sharp point pricked his skin.

He looked down at the crowd. He saw Richard Harmon enter. He saw the woman in gold.

He frowned. She was flashy. Ostentatious. Everything he hated. But there was something about the way she walked. A slight hesitation in her left step.

Pain? Or just bad shoes?

He dismissed her. She was just another Harmon decoration.

Down on the floor, Eve extricated herself from Richard.

"Work the room," Richard hissed before disappearing toward the bar.

Eve exhaled. She found a pillar and stood behind it, trying to disappear.

"There you are."

Carter Sterling appeared, holding two flutes of champagne. He was handsome in a plastic, Ken-doll sort of way.

"You look edible, Eve," Carter said, looking at her chest.

"I'm working, Carter," Eve said, refusing the drink.

"Come on. One drink." He stepped closer, invading her space.

Before Eve could answer, an arm wrapped around her waist. A heavy, possessive arm.

"She's busy, Carter," Julian said, appearing out of nowhere. He pulled Eve against his side.

Eve felt bile rise in her throat. She was trapped between two predators.

"Excuse me," she muttered. "Ladies' room."

She broke free and walked fast. Her heel dug into her cut with every step, sending spikes of pain up her leg.

She turned the corner into the quiet hallway leading to the restrooms.

A man was walking toward her. Broad shoulders. Earpiece.

Eve stopped. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

It was the bodyguard. The one who had stood in the doorway of the suite. Marcus.

He looked at her. His gaze lingered for a second too long. He seemed to be analyzing her face, searching his memory.

Eve forced herself to keep walking. Don't run. Don't look guilty.

She nodded politely as they passed.

Marcus nodded back. "Ma'am."

As soon as he was behind her, Eve practically fell into the restroom. She locked the stall door and leaned against it, gasping for air.

He hadn't recognized her. Not yet.

Outside the stall, two women were fixing their makeup.

"Did you hear?" one said. "Delos French is actually here. Upstairs."

"He's terrifying," the other giggled. "They say he fired his own mother from the board."

"I heard he's a sociopath. No emotions. Just numbers."

Eve closed her eyes. A sociopath. And she was about to go try to outsmart him.

The PA system chimed. "All bid representatives, please proceed to the Emerald Conference Room."

Eve opened her eyes. She checked the choker. It was tight.

She unlocked the door.