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Robert and William nod, their expressions guarded. I can’t tell if they’re genuinely on board with Marcus or just playing along.
“Your father and I go way back.” William Hartley shares, crystal tumbler in hand. “Speakingof Jim, where is he tonight?”
“Under the weather,” I lie smoothly, exactly as Jaxson instructed. “He sent his regrets.”
Marcus’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Such a shame. We had so much to discuss. But with Jim’s declining health, it’s probably best he’s not here. The mental and physical strain are taking their toll.”
The implied notion of my father’s declining mental capabilities makes my shoulders tense, but I maintain my practiced smile. Somewhere in this house, Gibson’s team is putting their plan into action. I just have to play my part. Jaxson’s words echo in my head:Marcus will use tonight to solidify his plans. We need evidence.
I glance around the room, searching for any sign of Jaxson or his team. He told me everything was under control, but that doesn’t stop the knot of tension in my chest from tightening.
Another guest approaches, and Marcus turns his attention away. Crystal immediately latches onto my arm, dragging me around for introductions like I’m her favorite new accessory.
I’m midway through another mindless conversation when I spot him—one of Marcus’s new staff looks eerily familiar. It takes me a moment to place him. He’s one of Jaxson’s men. He’s dressed as part of the staff, blending in with the serverscarrying trays of drinks. He lingers near the edge of the room, his movements purposeful yet unassuming.
My heart rate kicks up, but I maintain my practiced smile as Crystal introduces me to yet another member of high society who can’t hide their enthusiasm in meeting a celebrity rockstar with the Wild Band.
I track Jaxson’s man from the corner of my eye as he efficiently works the room. What the hell is Jaxson thinking, putting someone this close to Marcus?
“Dinner is ready to be served,” Lila announces from the doorway.
She looks completely professional in her chef’s whites, but the sight of her here, in Marcus’s territory, makes my stomach clench. When I’d told Jaxson absolutely not to involve her, I never imagined she’d accept the job on her own.
“Everything smells amazing,” Crystal gushes. “Daddy, wasn’t I right about hiring her?”
“Indeed.” Marcus studies Lila with calculating eyes. “Quite the coup, getting such a highly recommended chef, who just happens to be your fiancé‘s next-door neighbor.”
“I go where the opportunities are,” Lila replies smoothly, not even glancing my way. “Shall we begin with the first course?”
Throughout dinner, I divide my attention between the conversation and Jaxson’s undercover man. He moves with practiced ease, but I notice him drifting closer to the hallway that leads to Marcus’s study whenever possible.
The wine pairing is exquisite,“ Chen comments as the staff serves the third course.
“I have an excellent wine stewart,” Lila responds, topping off Marcus’s glass. “Though I believe Mr. Davidson’s cellar provided tonight’s selections.”
Marcus preens at the compliment, glancing at Chen. “Perhaps you’d like a tour of the wine cellar later? I have some rare vintages...”
That’s when I see Jaxson’s man slip away from the dining room, heading toward the study.
My pulse quickens.
The conversation at the dinner table continues for a few minutes, drifting toward casual topics, but my eyes secretly watch the hallway for any sign of motion.
Suddenly, Marcus clears his throat and stands, his chair scraping against the floor. “Robert, William,” he says, his tone casual but firm. “Why don’t we step into my study for a moment? There are a few details I’d like to share privately regarding Sterling Motors’ future.”
Fear knots in my chest. Jaxson’s man is still in the study, and if Marcus catches him, this entire operation is blown.
Before the panic can fully set in, there’s a tremendous crash from the hallway. The sound of shattering glass echoes through the house.
Marcus’s face darkens. “What the bloody hell—“
All eyes turn toward the hallway when Lila appears. She steps forward discreetly. “I apologize for disturbing you, Mr. Davidson. It appears we’ll need another bottle from your cellar. The ’82 Bordeaux...”
“This is completely unacceptable,” Marcus snaps. “I don’t appreciate this level of incompetence with my wine collection. Your staff—“
“Actually, sir,” Lila interrupts, her voice perfectly modulated, “the young man who dropped the bottle is one of your household staff, not mine. My team is exclusively in the kitchen.”
The silence that follows is profound. I hide my snicker in my napkin.