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With a small bow, the server turned and left her to mull over her situation.

She swirled the deep red wine in the glass, blankly staring into the reflection of light through the liquid that cast a dark crimson shadow on the white tablecloth. Mayhap she should leave her date this eve, forego her payment, and recoup her losses when her mind wasn’t strangled by the wretched thoughts of betrayal and revenge.

Caught up in her dismal thoughts, she never noticed someone approaching until the table jostled when hit, and wine sloshed over the rim of her glass. She snapped her head up only to see a figure covered in black from head-to-toe disappear around the corner toward the restaurant’s entrance.

“Goddess curse you,” she muttered, unfolding her linen napkin to wipe streaks of wine from the back of her hand.

Her gaze caught on a neatly folded piece of parchment paper, tied with a small golden thread. Her belly did one of those strange mortal flips that left her wondering if she would vomit. Glancing toward the restrooms and not noting any signof her date, she made quick work of wiping her hand and anxiously opened the folded paper.

Her heart damn near stopped in her chest, an act her mortal body wouldn’t survive.

The paper was blank at first glance. Within seconds, golden marks began to appear in a dull glitter until full words formed in a string of elegant loops.

Three days’time. I’ll seek you out.

Daeanna shoved her chair back,the parchment crumpling in her fist, and hurried after the dark figure. Diners watched her rush through the dining room and burst out the door before a valet could so much as reach for the brass handle.

She spun to the nearest valet. “Did someone leave here a minute or two ago? Dressed in black, mayhap a cloak?”

The valet exchanged a confused look with his partner and shook his head. “No, ma’am. You’re the first to come out in over fifteen minutes.”

Daeanna groaned. “Are you certain? Not a single person came this way?” She waved toward the closed door. “’Twas not more than a couple of minutes. Surely you saw the person who left? He dropped something at my table and I wish to return it.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. No one’s left the restaurant recently. Did you check inside by the bar?”

Daeanna’s fingers tightened around the parchment paper as she calmed her racing heart and regained her composure. After a few moments to visually scan the parking lot, she feigned a smile. “Mayhap you’re right. Thank you.”

Slipping through the door into the warm interior—she’d forgotten the wintry cold in her excitement—she unfolded the parchment once more. Whoever dropped it on her table did so deliberately, then vanished. There was no chance the messenger remained.

The initial message was no longer visible, but after staring at the parchment, willing more information to appear, a single letter appeared:T. Naught more, naught less, and it disappeared just before the parchment curled in on itself like a dying flower. The edges darkened, turned dirt brown, and disintegrated, leaving naught in her palm but a thin layer of dust.

For the first time in six months, a genuine smile crested her lips.

Aye, her time for revenge would come soon.

Very soon.

5

“Here’s what I have in mind.” Kate held up the magazine photographs of men decked out in tuxedoes, two of them circled. “I think lavender and blush rose are aesthetically pleasing and perfect for a spring wedding. I want a palette of pastels that center around these main colors. So, for the men, a light gray tux might be fitting.”

Kate’s closest friend, Michelle, nodded vigorously as she daintily nibbled a cucumber sandwich. Kate’s mother, Donna Felton, took one of the magazine pages from her daughter, scrutinizing the details as she tapped the page with a pointed acrylic nail. One of her surgically enhanced brows arched beneath her wispy brown bangs.

His mother, on the other hand, paged through a bridal magazine filled with bridesmaids’ gowns.

Bryce dropped his head back on the chair and groaned inwardly. He lifted his arm to check the time—quarter after four—and dropped his foot from his knee. His father escaped the insanity due to a last-minute “campaign meeting” withimportant sponsors for the upcoming rally. Judge Peter Felton followed on Mark Hampton’s heels. Bryce would bet there was no meeting and the fathers of the bride and groom, respectively, were tossing a few good shots back at the country club.

“Have you two chosen a date yet?” his mother asked, looking up long enough to rest a light hand on Kate’s knee and cast a satisfied smile his way.

Kate peeled her focus from an assortment of fabric samples for the table linens and caught his gaze. He released an exasperated sigh and shook his head.

“No. That’s why I find this premature,” he muttered.

His mother’s smile dropped like a weight and her eyes narrowed. Kate’s dignified expression shattered beneath shock. Donna Felton smacked the magazine page on her lap, her second brow shooting upward. Michelle huffed and scowled in his direction.

Bryce shrugged, pushing himself out of the chair and twisting his head one way, then the other, satisfied when his neck popped. “I’m just saying it how I see it.”

“That’s really not the right attitude to have going into this,” Michelle groused, cucumber sandwich to her lips.