Page 18 of The Devil in the Details

The party fell silent, just a natural pause in conversation. Zelda spotted Walker exiting the elevator. He looked the same, which was to say flawless and handsome, with his square jaw and perfectly styled hair. The woman on his arm was gorgeous. That went without saying.

Mal stood next to her, his hand resting on her shoulder.

From this distance, she didn’t feel much of anything. She expected to be hurt, maybe sad, definitely angry, but right now, her emotional landscape was as cold and barren as the red planet she called home.

Walker must have sensed her staring at him. He turned. For just a moment, his eyes went wide, and the color drained from his face. The woman on his arm spoke, snagging his attention, and the charming smile returned.

Mal’s grip tightened on her shoulder, prompting her to look at him. “I will hunt our host. You will remain here.”

“And be bait,” she said in a dry tone. “Although, maybe reconsider your use of the word hunt.”

For a second, his eyes went black. “I did not misspeak.” He did not shout. Even though he spoke barely above a whisper, she felt his words reverberate within her.

Zelda managed to make a squeaky noise as a response.

He cradled the side of her face with one hand. She couldn’t look away as the black in his eyes swirled and eventually dissipated. “Do not let that unworthy male rattle you. Only I get that pleasure.”

The way he said that word, like he was lapping up honey… and now she was blushing. Before she could form a reasonably coherent retort, he left to speak with a silver-haired man.

The man stood out from the crowd, wearing a casual black sweater, white linen trousers, and no shoes. Zelda recognized Amiron Yan, the wealthiest man on Mars. Who else would have the nerve to go barefoot to a posh shindig?

She drifted over to a glass sculpture on a pedestal. It was a complicated, free-flowing form spun in crystal clear glass, and it was absolutely boring. Technically difficult, sure. Not a single bubble or blemish marred the glass, and that was what made it soulless. It was too perfect. Zelda couldn’t imagine the hours that went into handling the molten glass, blowing it, working it into the correct shape, reheating and shaping again, twisting the liquid glass so the finished product looked like it was trying to melt its way off its pedestal. The sculpture was definitely a statement piece, but whether it was about a philosophical stance or just a commentary about how some people would hand over loads of cash for fine art, she wasn’t sure.

Actually, now that she circled the sculpture, she was certain it was about taking money from fools.

“It’s an impressive piece,” Walker said, sliding up next to her.

“Technically impressive,” she replied, turning her gaze to him. Her grip tightened on the wine glass. “It’s an attractive packagethat, much like clear glass, is transparent. There’s nothing inside.”

Walker huffed and grinned. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not talking about the sculpture?”

“I like it,” the woman clinging to Walker’s arm said.

“Zelda, this is my fiancé, Luna,” he said.

“Luna like the moon,” Luna said, for no good reason. Her gaze swept over Zelda, as if calculating how much of a risk she posed. “How do you know each other?”

Now that she was face to face with the man who betrayed her, Zelda expected anger to overcome her. To blind her. He used her, framed her, and replaced her. Absolutely no one would blame her for throwing her drink in his face. Instead, she felt cold.

“We used to work together,” he answered.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were an art dealer,” Luna said, giving Zelda a cold smile. “The art world is so small here. I thought I knew everyone.”

“I do appraisals for a private dealer now,” Zelda replied, bending the truth a smidge.

“How interesting. Oh, Bebe wants to talk. I’ll let you two talk shop,” Luna said, planting a kiss on Walker’s cheek before leaving.

Zelda raised her glass at the display. In an artificially sweet voice, she said, “Wow. I completely expected her to pee on you to mark her territory.”

“Don’t be crass,” Walker said, his tone still genial. With that fake smile still on his face, he scanned the room to see if anyone was listening to him. “I heard you were working in a pawn shop.”

“Well, I admit the situation is a bit humbling, but that’s what happens when you’re framed for robbing your boss. Makes potential employers skittish.”

“Is this a joke to you, Zelda? What are you doing here?” He touched her arm, but she jerked away.

“Same as you, I expect,” she answered.

“Oh, I doubt that.”

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