Page 47 of Sweet Revenge
She giggled. “Lucky I met you then.”
When they pulled up in front of the two-story Gothic building, she waited for him to help her out of the car and let him lead her up the front steps. On his arm, no one at the door even asked her for the invitation she didn’t have. They just waved them both through into a ballroom decorated in white and gray with standing tables set up throughout so people could mingle.
White-jacketed waiters carried around trays of canapés and champagne, and an open bar nestled into the back corner was serving cocktails. She caught Declan’s eye where he chatted with a couple of men in tuxes, lifting a shoulder when his jaw tightened at the sight of her arm tucked into DiMarco’s.
“Let me buy you a drink.” She gestured to the bar with her clutch, smiling sweetly when he turned to look at her.
“I think the bar is free,” he replied, eyes amused.
“I have to do something to repay your kindness.”
“A drink then,” he agreed, nodding at people as they crossed the room, “and maybe a dance later.”
“But there’s no music.”
“Much later and in private, perhaps?”
She bit her lip and sent him a flirtatious smile. A bold invitation for a man old enough to be her father. When they stepped up to the bar, he ordered a bourbon for himself, smiling at her indulgently when she asked for a cosmo.
He guided her around the room with his hand on the small of her back, making mundane conversation with other guests. He introduced her as Victoria but didn’t seem all that interested in knowing who her mysterious father was. She was beautiful, she was young, and she was at the party, so she must be in someone’s elite circle. No one seemed to care which one.
She was getting impatient when Declan finally signaled from across the room that Brogan was in position. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on a couple moving in their direction.
She moved, ever so slightly, so the man bumped into her shoulder, and she made a big show of lurching forward and pouring her drink down DiMarco’s arm.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, quickly setting her empty glass on the nearest table and grabbing a napkin, dabbing at the liquid that had soaked through the jacket. “I’m so sorry.”
He jerked toward her, annoyance in his eyes, and Evie forced a tremble into her voice. “Please, let me take it into the bathroom and try and get some of that out.”
He actually looked pleased with her distress and reached up to cup her cheek. “Don’t fret, my dear. It’s only a jacket. But you may try if you wish,” he added when her eyes continued to plead.
He slipped the jacket off and handed it to her, and Evie rose up to brush a quick kiss across his cheek. “Thank you,” she said, relieved, and hurried off to the bathroom.
As soon as he was out of sight, she quickly searched his coat pockets for the flash drive, sighing with relief when her fingers closed around the cool metal in his left breast pocket. She slipped into the bathroom, locking herself in the first stall, and plugged the drive into the device Brogan had given her.
She knew he had the signal when the device blinked to life, and she watched the bars jump up and down to indicate the file transfer had been initiated. It took five long, excruciating minutes until the device beeped, and then the text came through from Brogan that it was done.
She unplugged the drive, slipping it back into the pocket and dropping Brogan’s device into her bag. She held the jacket under the dryer for a quick minute until she was satisfied it looked like she had tried and then made her way back out to the ballroom.
She flashed a tentative smile when he caught sight of her, and he met her across the room, turning so she could help him into his jacket. She brushed at the shoulders and then the lapels when he turned.
“It’s not dry cleaning, but it’ll do for the night. I really am very sorry.”
He waved a hand. “Don’t be. It was an accident. It’s lucky you didn’t get anything on that beautiful dress of yours.” His eyes wandered up and down her body again. “Come. I must show my face for thirty minutes more, and then we can go.”
“Actually, my father called while I was in the bathroom. He’s sending a car for me.” She leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek and whispered in his ear, “Maybe we can have that dance another time.”
When she turned to go, he grabbed her arm, just hard enough to have worry settle into her stomach.
“I thought you said your phone was dead.”
Shit. She forced a smile, trying to remember if there were plugs in the bathroom where she could have charged her phone to support her lie. No doubt he’d check. Christ, she hoped there were.
“I found a plug by the couch that gave me enough of a charge to check messages.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Who did you say your father was again?”
Evie fought to keep her face serene, but her mind frantically scanned a list of names. Did she toss one out or try and play coy to distract him? He was too smart for an outright lie like that. Coy would have to do.
