Elite Fraud

Chapter 29: In the Midnight Hour

The click of my heels on marble echo against the high ceilings and mix with the muffled classical music. I find the bathroom at the end of the hallway, true enough to the waiter's words back in the ballroom, and step inside the luxurious space.

I lock the doors behind me and place the sparkling, metallic clutch next to the sink. The sequenced fabric reflects white fluorescent light when I zip it open, momentarily blinding me, but I don't look away. Because there it is.

The gun.

It stares back at me, between a wad of folded up napkins and a dirty compact mirror that I've never used in my life. This is when I would text Lucien, and he'd comfort me in his own way with one-worded responses. But after clearing all the data on that phone besides the key recording, Detective Loughty and his team took it in as evidence and are probably analyzing it right now.

I stare at my reflection and breathe through my nose once, twice, five times until my vision narrows to the person staring back at me. Madam Clémence dressed her in a beautiful, gothic dress that flows out from the black-beaded torso into heaps of red satin and tulle. She is now calm and composed. She knows that whatever happens in the next few hours is necessary; it is right. I close my eyes and envision Marli behind my eyelids—the image of her in my room a few days ago.

With that, I lift my heavy dress from the floor, revealing a muscled right leg in thigh-high, lace stockings. I wedge the gun behind the elastic band around my upper thigh, exhaling sharply when I feel the cold metal against my skin. Avoiding my gaze in the mirror, I leave the bathroom with my clutch in hand and make my way back to the ballroom.

Crystal chandeliers spiral down from the arching Renaissance-painted ceiling, illuminating the glimmering golden walls and a floor so polished it looks like an iced-over lake. Men and women sparkle like a sea of jewels, shades of emerald and ruby and amethyst swirling before me, their low chatter accompanied by poised laughter.

I should be used to it yet my palms still collect sweat and my heart pulses in my throat as I make my way through the mass of elegance, following my gut feeling that Tave will be standing next to the buffet table. I've yet to see Theo this night.

True enough, I spot Tave's back as he holds a seafood-filled plate in his right hand and metal tongs in the other. The sight fills me with a welcoming warmth.

I'm about to tap his shoulder and ask him about Theo when another cold hand grips my bare shoulder. I turn in my heels to face David Roman's cool face.

"You look lovely tonight," he says and nods in approval, his eyes traveling down my gown.

I nod back with a tight-lipped smile. He cannot suspect anything before it's time. I swallow the ball of nerves in my throat and push back a grimace. "Madam Clémence has a magical pair of hands."

He holds out his arm in an offer, and I can only pause for a second before holding on to his elbow. "Of course she does," he says, leading us through the crowd and acknowledging people with a nod every time they lock eyes. I feel like the lion's new prey being paraded around to the rest of the jungle. "I can only expect that from her—the very best. As I do from all the people whom I work with."