Page 13 of The Betrayer
Chapter 6
Will
––––––––
BARKER LOOKED UP ASI pushed through the front door, the little bell over the door ringing. A display case over which he leaned hid his slight paunch, and several open jewelry boxes, rested on its top. Each box contained a different necklace, each one ornate. They sparkled in the specially rigged lighting that made everyone woman feel as though they looked like a million bucks. The jewels themselves wouldn’t fool anyone, especially the crowd tonight, who would actually be wearing millions.
I guessed the woman I was taking out tonight wouldn’t notice. Young women like her tended to get blinded by pageantry, lights, and glittering gowns. It wasn’t until they’d been to one too many of these things that the varnish wore off, as it had for me a long time ago. Then it was easy to see the scrabbling and unpleasantness behind the glitter.
“Mr. Finlay, it’s good to see you.” Barker straightened and came toward me like we hadn’t talked an hour earlier, grasping my hand to shake it.
“Is she ready?” I asked.
“Not yet.” The tailor-made a wry face. “She had some difficulty deciding on the dress—too many options, I think. It was a mistake to tell her she had her pick. Ms. Steffanie hasn’t yet decided on the jewelry, either.”
I could hear voices rising and falling in the background, one excited, one far more monotone. The second I recognized as Barker’s long-suffering assistant, a rail-thin man on the far side of middle age with an unfashionable combover. But his hands were magic when it came to tailoring.
The second voice rose for a moment before I heard a loud sigh. Barker chuckled and shook his head. “He’s just hungry.”
“I apologize that I made him late for dinner.” I stuck my hands into my pockets and ambled back toward the display case with Barker. Maybe I’d sent a few too many women in here at the last minute, but planning in advance hadn’t ever really been my thing. With Paul as my COO, I didn’t have to think ahead anymore.
“He will get over it,” Barker replied, replacing his glasses to his nose and picking up his pencil so he could make marks in his notebook. “It’s been a long day with assistants in and out of here with dresses for the gala and last-minute fittings.”
“Speaking of dinner time—” I looked down at my watch and felt my pulse jump despite myself. I was already late for the gala, and I knew Paul would probably have a stroke if I were any later. “Barker, tell Steffanie the limo outside will be waiting to take her to the event. She can text me when she gets there, and her name will be on the list.”
“I will, Mr. Finlay.”
I turned to leave, then stopped and looked back over my shoulder. “By the way, what’s her last name?”
Maybe I imagined the twitch of the other man’s lips—it was too fast to see—and then his face was impassively accommodating again.
“Mercer, Mr. Finlay.”
“Steffanie Mercer.” My hands were still in my pockets as I strolled out the door, repeating her name so I wouldn’t forget it before I made sure it was on the list.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and clicked open the app to order the premium service from the rideshare company. When the message popped up that it was on its way, I nodded to the besuited driver waiting patiently on the sidewalk beside his large, black limo.
“Mr. Finlay?” he asked.
“There’s a young woman in the shop who isn’t quite ready yet, but she should be soon. I told her you would take her to the gala.”
“How are you going to get there, sir?” the driver asked.
“I called a car service.”
A sleek black Mercedes pulled out of traffic and up to the curb in record time, my rideshare app alerting me that my driver had arrived.
