Page 4 of Monster

“What makes you think I’m the one throwing this party, Miss Particular?”

I giggled. “I know my way around these types of crowds, Mr. Mysterious.”

His eyes darkened. “How I’d love to. Let’s start with this question, then: who are you?”

“My name is Charlotte.”

He nodded. “Charlotte. Lovely name for a lovely woman.”

I sipped my wine. “And your name?”

“My friends call me ‘Teo’.”

“Short for…?”

He shrugged. “Not important.”

I set my wine glass down. “In my experience? Things people willingly hold back are always important. Even if they say otherwise.”

His eyes narrowed. “Who did you say your mother was again?”

“Gloria Pettigrew. I’m her daughter, Charlotte.”

He blinked. “Pettigrew.”

“Yes.”

His back stiffened and he took a step away from me. I watched a wall come down over his darkened eyes, which turned wary in the splitting of a second. His sharp jawline clenched and I saw his temple pulse. One of the many things I clocked when speaking with someone. My mother taught me a lot of things while growing up. How to tell when someone was lying. How to know when they were telling the truth. How to recognize when someone was about to lie, or make a break for it, or haul off and hit me.

She also taught me how to tell when someone was hiding something.

And Mr. Mysterious had a big secret to hide.

“I hope you enjoy the party, Miss Pettigrew.”

I unclasped my purse. “Here. If you need to get in touch with me or anything, here’s my—.”

I didn’t even get my card held out in front of me before he vanished into the crowd. I whipped around, my eyes following him and that navy-blue suit as long as I could before he disappeared into nothingness. Confusion filled my body. This man named ‘Teo’ had gotten lost in the crowd as quickly as he had appeared at my side.

And dread filled my gut.

I scanned the room, looking for any signs that my mother and I were in trouble. I had a bad feeling about this party, despite the glitz and the fashion and the sparkling jewelry. To the outside eye, this looked like a charity ball. A place where the richest of the rich gathered to donate the money coming out of their ears to a worthy cause to make themselves look better.

But everywhere I looked, there was evidence of a cover-up.

I noticed the armed guards at every entryway and exit point. I noticed the waiters and waitresses had earbuds in their ears. And every once in a while, a man shuffled by me to pick up his drink and I caught a glimpse of twinkling metal on his hip.

Just about every man I came across in this place was armed with a gun.

What kind of client party is this?

I reached for my wine glass and threw the rest of it back. Then I picked up my purse. I needed to get out of there anyway. I needed to finish the last-minute packing I still hadn’t done. With a cool head and a calm outer facade, I made my way for the entrance. All I had to do was get out of this party and flag a cab down, then I’d be home free.

Ready to make my way to Italy for two weeks and forget about the creepy feeling I got in this ballroom.

“Charlotte! There you are. Over here, sweetheart!”

I cringed at the sound of my mother’s voice before I turned around. And I forced myself to put on my best smile as I sauntered over to her.

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