Not tonight.
—What happened?
Her gaze cut toward Victor, who had begun moving through the crowd with slow certainty. People opened around him the way water opens around a ship.
—Pretend to be my boyfriend, she said. —Smile. Stay close. And I will give you the most precious thing I own.
I stared at her.
There were sentences a person expected from his boss. Please confirm the lunch reservation. Move the investor call. Fix the appendix slides.
Not this.
—I do not understand.
—Good, she said, her lips barely moving. —Then you will look innocent.
That was when Victor noticed us.
Mara stepped closer, lifted my hand, and placed it against the small of her back as if we had done this a hundred times. Every nerve in my body went rigid.
—Relax, she whispered.
—You picked the wrong person for that.
A flash of something crossed her face. It might have been fear. It might have been gratitude. Then she turned, smiled in a way I had never seen at the office, and said loudly:
—Darling, there you are.
Three nearby donors looked over. So did Mara’s division head. So did half a table of board members who had ignored me all evening.
Victor stopped in front of us.
His eyes moved from Mara’s face to my hand at her waist. Then down to my shoes. They paused there long enough for me to remember the left sole had been repaired twice.
—Mara, he said. —This is new.
—Not new, she replied. —Private.
The lie came out perfectly. That should not have surprised me. Mara Ellery could make a lie sound like a signed contract.
Victor looked at me. —And you are?
—Noah Vale, I said.
—From the firm.
It was not a question.
—Yes, sir.
His smile sharpened. —An assistant, I believe.
Mara’s hand slid into mine, fingers interlacing. Her grip tightened before I could feel small.
—My assistant, she said. —And more than that.
Several people had gone quiet around us. No one wanted to be seen listening, which meant everyone was listening carefully.
Victor leaned on his cane. —How charming. I always encouraged my daughter to value the staff.
A polite laugh flickered nearby. Mara did not move.
I had been invisible long enough to know when someone was trying to make me disappear in public.
I should have lowered my eyes. I should have let the insult pass. That was how assistants survived wealthy rooms.
Instead, I heard myself say, —She values competence.
The laugh died.
Mara turned her head slightly. Her eyes found mine, bright with warning and surprise.
Victor’s expression did not change, but something behind it cooled.
—Does she? he asked.
—Enough to trust me tonight.
It was a reckless sentence. I did not know what Mara trusted me with. I did not know why she had chosen me, what game I had stepped into, or why her father looked less offended by the idea of his daughter dating an assistant than alarmed by it.
Then I noticed the key.
A small brass key hung from a thin chain at Mara’s throat, half-hidden beneath the black silk neckline of her gown. It looked old. Ordinary. Wrong against diamonds and candlelight.
Victor noticed me noticing it.
For one second, his smile disappeared.
Mara’s
