Page 173 of The Black Trilogy

I scanned the room as I spoke. Friends, colleagues, acquaintances, strangers. A not insignificant number of idiots I had to be nice to because they had fat bank accounts and useful connections. And then I saw him. Sitting at table number thirteen.

Guess it really was unlucky.

My eyes locked with Luke’s and I tripped over my words. Even though I recovered quickly, Nick’s head turned in the direction I’d been looking. Rats. My heart raced as I continued my speech on autopilot, the words sounding foreign to my own ears. Had anyone else noticed my slip-up?

“Tonight, you’ll hear from two of our success stories. I first met Ryan when he was fifteen, and Michelle joined us at seventeen. Both of these individuals have shown extraordinary courage and tenacity in getting to where they are today, and they’ll be giving you an insight into the foundation’s work.”

I spouted highlights from the past year and summarised new projects in the pipeline before I finished up.

“I’d like to remind all of you that we have an auction starting after dinner with some thrilling lots, including a two week holiday at the lovely Quinta Nova Vineyard in Portugal and a bespoke couture dress by up-and-coming designer, Ishmael. Finally, I’m going to add a pledge of my own. Whatever the amount raised tonight, I’ll personally double it.”

As I stepped down, murmurs of surprise travelled around the room. Good. Hopefully, that would encourage the wealthy to get their wallets out. A bit of competition could be a healthy thing.

“Good luck,” I whispered to Ryan as he hopped up on stage to take my place.

One foot in front of the other, head up, back straight. Smile. As I sat down next to Nick, I tried to concentrate on Ryan’s words rather than the fact that I’d just been outed to Luke.

Tried, and failed. Luke’s wide-eyed shock played over and over in my mind like a bad horror movie.

I’d wanted to speak to him before I went back to the States, but not yet. It wasn’t the right time. Not when my thoughts were still so jumbled, and I didn’t know what I wanted to say to him or how to say it. Did I start by apologising? Or begging for forgiveness? Or should I just act normally and hope he did the same?

I snuck a glance in his direction, and of course, he was looking at me. Looking at me like I was a piece of doggy poop he’d just trodden in.

Great. I’d made things worse, hadn’t I? Why hadn’t I called him before this evening? Now he thought I was a rich kid with too much time and money on her hands.

“More wine, ma’am?” a waiter asked.

“Could you do me a favour and bring a gin and tonic?”

“Certainly. Hendricks, Bombay Sapphire, or Tanqueray?”

Did it really matter? “Hendricks. And make it a double, would you?”

I reached out for Nick’s glass of red, but my hands shook so I stuffed them in my lap instead.

“You okay?” Nick asked.

“Never better.”

Except I might have cracked a tooth from clenching my jaw so hard.

Thankfully, Ryan was oblivious to my drama and soon had the audience in stitches with his stories. My own laughter sounded mechanical. Or perhaps maniacal. After all, I’d lost my ever-loving mind. Half of the audience got to their feet and applauded as Ryan finished, and he high-fived me as he took the seat to my left.

Michelle started speaking, and I heard the nervousness in her voice. At least she’d made it to the stage—she’d been quaking more than San Francisco beforehand. My hug for her when she finished was genuine.

“You did me proud tonight,” I told her.

“I thought I was gonna faint.”

“Have faith, honey.”

A waiter deposited a plate in front of me, but my appetite had deserted me. How bad would it look if I made a dash for it before dessert came out?

Nick reached under the tablecloth, grabbed my hand, and clamped it against his thigh, our fingers intertwined.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” he whispered.

“How delicious the food is?”

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