Part 4
Daniel regretted it before the silence settled.
“I’m sorry.”
She turned toward the door.
He stepped in front of it but did not touch her. “I’m sorry.”
“Move.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No.”
“I’m angry, and I aimed it badly.”
“Move, Daniel.”
He moved.
Claire slid back the bolt. Before opening the door, she said, “You will not confront him. You will not speak to him alone. You will not drink. You will not tell anyone.”
“How long?”
“Until I say otherwise.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
She opened the door.
Daniel followed her into the hall.
The elevator ride took forty-seven seconds. Claire counted each one.
At the thirty-second mark, Daniel reached toward her hand, stopped, and let his own fall. She turned her palm upward. He held it gently, avoiding the wrist.
The ballroom doors opened on applause meant for someone else.
A jazz trio had finished a song. Guests stood near the dance floor, silver and black beneath the chandeliers. Waiters moved between them carrying trays of miniature desserts. The floral arrangements were white orchids and winter branches, elegant enough to look effortless and expensive enough not to be.
Malcolm waited near the stage.
He was sixty-two, broad-shouldered, silver-haired, and handsome in the durable way that made photographers trust him. His tuxedo fit perfectly. A white pocket square showed at his chest. To the room, he looked like a man satisfied to hand his life’s work to the daughter he had never had.
His gaze moved from Claire’s face to Daniel’s.
Then to the shawl.
Nothing changed in his expression.
He came forward, smiling. “There she is.”
Daniel’s fingers tightened around Claire’s hand.
She squeezed once, a warning.
Malcolm kissed the air beside her cheek. “The governor left, but his chief of staff is still here. We should speak to her about the Springfield property.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tonight would be better.”
“Tomorrow.”
The single word surprised all three of them.
Malcolm’s smile held. “Of course.”
He looked at Daniel. “You’ve lost your tie.”
“It’s still around my neck.”
Malcolm laughed politely.
Daniel did not.
Claire saw the moment Malcolm understood that something had changed upstairs. He did not know what. That uncertainty made him attentive.
A photographer approached. “Ms. Whitmore, Mr. Vale, one more together?”
Claire’s body reacted before her mind did. Her shoulders locked. Malcolm extended his arm toward her waist.
Daniel stepped between them with an ease that could be mistaken for enthusiasm.
“Let’s get all three,” he said.
The photographer waved them closer. “Perfect. Mr. Vale, just angle in.”
Malcolm stood on Claire’s left. Daniel stood on her right. The flash went off three times.
“Beautiful,” the photographer said.
Claire smiled until he moved away.
Malcolm leaned near enough for only her to hear. “You look pale.”
“I’m tired.”
“Daniel seems agitated.”
“He doesn’t like galas.”
“You used to choose men with better manners.”
Claire’s breath caught.
Malcolm sipped champagne.
She had dated two men before Daniel. One had left after Malcolm suggested that Claire’s instability might become a public embarrassment. The other accepted a job in London arranged through a Whitmore board member and ended the relationship by email.
Until that moment, Claire had allowed herself to believe those endings had been ordinary.
“Did you speak to Evan Carlisle before he moved?” she asked.
Malcolm’s eyes shifted.
It was small. Enough.
“This isn’t the place,” he said.
“No. It never is.”
Daniel watched from a few feet away, pretending to listen to the chief financial officer.
Malcolm lowered his voice. “Whatever happened upstairs, collect yourself.”
Claire felt the old room closing around her: straps, concrete, the smell of dust and lemon disinfectant.
“Don’t tell me to hold still,” she said.
His face changed.
Only for an instant.
Then he smiled at a passing trustee.
“Tomorrow morning,” Malcolm said, “we should discuss the advisory agreement.”
“There will be no advisory agreement.”
“We’ll discuss it.”
“No.”
“You’re emotional.”
“I am chair.”
“Ceremonially, until the filing is accepted.”
“The board vote was final.”
“And boards reconsider.”
Claire looked into his familiar face. She had loved him once. That truth remained, humiliating and indestructible. He had taught her to read balance sheets. He had slept in a hospital chair when she had her appendix removed. He knew she hated pears and arranged for the kitchens to remove them from fruit plates. He had also left her restrained in darkness because she refused to say she had lied.
Daniel returned to her side.
Malcolm stepped back.
“Enjoy the evening,” he said.
He walked toward a cluster of investors without hurrying.
Daniel watched him go. “You all right?”
“No.”
“Do you want to leave?”
“Yes.”
They did not leave.
For another thirty-eight minutes, Claire shook hands, accepted congratulations, discussed occupancy rates, smiled beside the anniversary cake, and thanked the hotel staff. Daniel remained near but not possessive. Once, when Malcolm approached, Daniel crossed the room and asked Claire to dance.
She almost refused. Then the band began a slow standard, and refusing would have attracted attention.
On the dance floor, Daniel held her carefully. His right hand rested above the scars, not on them.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“I’m cold.”
“It’s seventy-two degrees.”
“I know the thermostat settings.”
“I forgot who I married.”
She looked past his shoulder at Malcolm.
He was speaking to two board members.
“We need to find out what he controls before he knows what we’re doing,” Claire said.
Daniel’s hand shifted slightly at her back. “All right.”
“You said that too quickly.”
“I’m learning.”
“He has allies in legal, security, finance, human resources. Some know what he is. Some only know what he did for them.”
“Who can you trust?”
Claire watched the room turn slowly around them.
“No one completely.”
“That makes it harder.”
“It makes it normal.”
Daniel’s mouth tightened. “We start with someone who has access and something to lose if Malcolm stays.”
“Ruth.”
“Who’s Ruth?”
May you like
“Ruth Alvarez. Director of archives and property history.”
“Why would she help?”
