Page 582 of Lodestar

Then—

“Oh, God,” she choked out.

“What is it?”

“That…” Her spine straightened. “When I first saw the picture of him that Bear had put in his motel room for me to find, I thought I recognized him.”

“What?” I muttered, whispering the words in her ear. “You recognized Anton? From where?”

“I didn’t know. And when I saw him at his place in Moscow, he didn’t register so I reckoned I was mistaken.” She swallowed. “But I saw him. At a party I attended with Hans.”

I stiffened. “Are you shitting me?”

“I’m not. I wish I were.” She gulped. “He was wearing that same red velvet smoking jacket. Fuck, he’s?—”

“Anton,” I greeted as he neared, knowing I had to give her time to compose herself. “How are you? How is everything?”

Anton, unaware that Star’s silence was loaded, discussed how his stay in New York had passed and what he’d done during the days he’d whiled away with Lyra. “I just wish,” he finished, “that I’d been able to spend some time with you, Star. I’d like to meet Kat before I have to leave.”

“It’s been…” She swallowed. “…busy. You know, what with the gala... Thank you for your donation.”

With every word she uttered, I felt her mask solidify until her speech had returned to its regular cadence and her expression was relaxed.

The only person who’d be able to tell a difference was me because she was like a block of ice in my arms.

To compound matters, Anton leaned into her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Thankfully, her mask was so in place that she didn’t even flinch.

Her innate strength would never fail to astonish me.

“Of course,” Anton drawled. “It’s a worthy cause.”

My hand tightened on her hip.

Worthy cause, my ass.

“I see you fought and won to keep from having ice sculptures at the gala,” Anton quipped, his tone amused.

“Do you know the carbon footprint of those things?” She tutted. “I don’t know what Rachel was thinking.”

“I’m assuming the foliage was your idea?” he queried, peering at a massive bush of basil that had been pruned into the shape of a spade—the card variety, not the garden implement—and which had the same frosting as the other bushes.

“It was. It ties in with the food. I thought it was clever.”

Anton hummed. “You’ll never be a party planner, dear, but that’s not what you are, is it? Your talents lie elsewhere.”

Star’s smile was lazy and disconcertingly authentic. “I don’t know. I might consider a career change.”

“Please, don’t,” I joked around a fake laugh. “You’ve been a stressy pain in the ass in the run-up to this party.”

Anton chuckled. “Your mother was just the same. Hated dressing the part.”

At this, Star’s mask showed the first signs of crumbling.

I could literally feel her longing for more information about her mother. Knew that she wanted it desperately.

Scraps…

That was all she had left of the woman who’d brought her into this world.

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