The back gate is still unlocked as far as I know. That means I still have an escape plan. I’ll make it through the night, reassess tomorrow. No need to do anything rash right now.
Gabriel leads me through the crowd with absolute confidence, nodding at faces I don’t recognize, murmuring names that I won’t remember.
“Congressman Dalton. Mrs. Chen. Anthony—so good to see you.”
Everyone he meets responds with surprising warmth, as if Gabriel is an old friend and not the head of a criminal empire. Do they all respect him? Or do they fear him? Either way, he has power over these people that I don’t understand.
On the other hand, they all seem to regard me with poorly veiled curiosity.
“And who is this?” asks a silver-haired woman in emerald silk, her smile sharp.
“This is Thea,” Gabriel says. No last name. No explanation.
The woman offers a tight smile in reply. “Charming.”
We move on.
I’m starting to feel like an exotic zoo animal,then I spot Danny, one of the bellboys who occasionally did service for large parties like this. Mid-twenties, friendly. Always flirted with me in the break room, even though I never flirted back.
He’s near the bar, tray in hand, and when he sees me, his whole face lights up.
“Thea!” he says, coming closer. “Holy shit, I didn’t know you?—”
He moves toward me, not getting any closer than twenty feet away, when two men in dark suits materialize out of nowhere and block his path. I didn’t even know they were there.
“Whoa, whoa,” Danny says, raising his free hand. “I just wanted to say hi.”
The taller one out of the two leans in and says something to him too quiet for me to hear.
Danny’s face goes white, then he backs up slowly. Seconds later, he’s vanished into the crowd.
I turn to Gabriel. “What the hell was that?”
“Security.”
I glance over my shoulder and see that the men are already gone, back to wherever they’d been hiding before moving in to block Danny.
“But he’s just a bellboy. He only wanted to?—”
“He was approaching you without permission.”
“He knows me, Gabriel. We used to work together.”
“He knows who youwere,” he corrects. There’s a sharp edge to his voice, as if we’d just come within moments of a life-or-death situation. “But he doesn’t know who you are now. And he doesn’t get to just stroll up to you like you’re chatting in the break room. Not anymore.”
I open my mouth to argue.
Then I see the look in his eyes—dark, possessive, immovable—and realize there’s no point.
“This is insane,” I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief.
“This is necessary.” He takes two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and hands one to me. “Take this. Drink. You look like you need it.”
I do need it. The champagne is cold and crisp, and easily one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted.
But it doesn’t help.
We’re making our way toward a cluster of guests near the windows when a woman intercepts us.