Page 4 of The Plunge

Chapter 2

Libby

I've never felt this uncomfortable and out of place in my entire life. Surrounded by fancy dresses, eloquent gentlemen, overpriced drinks, superficial chatter, and passive-aggressive behavior by show-offs who want to impress without coming across as pretentious.

If you ask me, every single one of them has failed in that mission. I've had the questionable pleasure of talking to just a handful of them, acquaintances mostly, faces I've never seen before but could always place with a name.

Not one of them could place me. That's not surprising and probably for the better.

I bring the champagne up to my lips for the umpteenth time, emptying it with one greedy swig before I place the empty glass on one of the silver trays carried around by the numerous handsome waiters. The waitstaff tonight is particularly young and dapper, providing a much-needed redeeming feature to this otherwise boring and excruciating night.

One guy, in particular, caught my eye right from the beginning. Tall and broad-shouldered, his muscles are so defined that the white shirt of his uniform stretches to the limit when he bends his arm to balance the silver tray and mosey through the room. In combination with his very short buzz cut and the tattoo peeking over the top of his collar, he looks more like a military guy than an ordinary server. He's out of this world handsome with a chiseled jaw shaved to perfection and sinister eyes that are constantly narrowed in strain.

I wonder why he's so tense? Is it his first day on the job? That can't be. He doesn't look young enough to be doing this for the first time.

I've never been good at flirting, but life presents an opportunity to approach him when he walks past me, balancing one last glass of champagne on his silver tray. I'm quick to decide that this glass was meant for me and use it as an excuse to get closer to him. But our encounter is cut short by his dumb sense of duty. He only stops long enough for me to reach for the glass, putting an abrupt end to any possible conversation by turning away from me just a moment after.

There was something in his eyes when he looked at me.

Interest. Curiosity. Lust.

Incredibly sexy.

Hell, just one or two more glasses of this champagne might even provide me with the courage to flirt with him for real.

I try to catch another glimpse of him as I wander through the room, but he's out of sight. I make sure to avoid eye contact with any of the guests when I make my way over to the panoramic view. I'm done talking for now and just seek a place to quietly drink another flute of golden liquid in solitude. Almost one and a half hours have passed since this started, and I know I'll have to be here for another two, at least. My presence is requested, despite my lack of interest in this event, and despite my non-existent connection to any of this.

Except for blood relation, that is.

Tonight is the opening ceremony for the Abbott Tower, a high-rise glass building that tops all others in town, making it the highest office building in a five-hundred-mile radius. My family had little to do with the building process, the design of the tower, the architecture, or the offices that will host several companies in the coming weeks. The tower is only named after us because we did one single but major thing—we financed it.

Old money families like mine love to plaster their names all over the place with such nonsense. Handing out checks, shaking a few hands, and sharing drinks among a self-regarding crowd to leave their mark on the city by having a new building named after them.

I hate to be a part of it. I hate being here tonight, and I hate feeling so out of place because it only manifests the ever-present indisposition I suffer when I'm surrounded by my family.

Not that there is much family to speak of. My parents have been gone for most of my life, I never had siblings or cousins, and every other blood relative that I know of has died in recent years—not always by natural causes. I can't help but feel uneasy about some of the circumstances that robbed me of my kin even though I may not have known them.

Both my grandfathers died of what was ruled a heart attack that came out of nowhere, and at both their funerals, I heard the whispers throughout the crowd.

"That was no heart attack. No way."

"Someone is after them."

"Someone wants the Abbotts to die out."

I tried to ignore them. It's just gossip spread by bored rich people. I tried to ignore the voices that told me there could be some truth to this, but it's so damn hard. Too much uncertainty surrounds the deaths of my relatives, including my own parents. The only thing that makes me not believe these dark assumptions is the lack of a motive because I can't for the life of me figure out why anyone would want to see my family dead. Yes, we're rich, and we have been for generations, and I know that's reason enough for some dogs in the manger to envy and hate us.

But is it reason enough to kill an entire family? A family that is guilty of no evil other than being rich?

Of course, I'm excluding myself in that assessment. I'm far from being free of sin and was a black seed from the day of my birth. That’s why no one here knows me, and most people don't even know of my existence. It's the reason I feel like a fish out of water tonight.

Why on earth people wanted me here is beyond me. I was surprised to find the invitation in my mailbox just days after returning to the city. It was sent from my uncle's office, signed with both his and my aunt's name, and addressed to me. No mistake. Still, it was weird. Neither of them had mentioned the event to me beforehand, and I'd just let them know I was coming back to the city over the summer. I didn't even find the invitation until two days ago, the day of my return. And when I called my uncle's office for confirmation, I was put off by the secretary and told that my uncle was too busy to talk to me, but that my presence would really mean a lot to him.

"It's really important to him and Margaret," she insisted.

Now that I'm here, I find that hard to believe because both my uncle and my aunt seemed surprised to see me when I walked through the door. And we barely exchanged more words than necessary, which is fine with me, but still odd, considering my uncle's secretary insisted that it was oh-so-important for me to be here tonight. I guess she was just speaking in general then, saying that the event itself was important to him, not my presence.

It's almost time for the only thing I've been looking forward tonight. The dimming of the lights so we can enjoy the view from up here. I love the sight of the city from above, and the prospect of a spectacular view is one of the main reasons I showed up. I want to make sure to secure a good place right at the window before they make their official announcement to turn the lights down.

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