Page 129 of These White Lies

The name all but detonates my composure. My pulse spikes, a cold pit growing inside me. My fingers clench around the stem of my glass so tight I almost expect it to shatter. Air sticks in my throat. Fear and anger vie for dominance inside me. How many lives has she ruined? How many people has she destroyed?

“Anna Lindquist?”

“Yes. She mentioned bringing some celebrities to her charity. Said you represent a few of them.” His smile is a mask, because I can see the malice lurking in his eyes. “Didn’t you represent Natalya Carrow? Tragic, what happened to her.”

My throat locks. “Itwastragic.” The words scrape out unevenly, and I hate that he can see my nerves crack. I know he’s trying to intimidate me by openly mentioning Natalya’s murder, and damn it—it’s working.

“I’d like to meet Anna,” I manage, “but first I should powder my nose.”

Seth smirks at me. “No problem. Be sure to come find us when you get back.” He slaps Ray’s shoulder harder than necessary. “Can’t wait for the show tomorrow, old man.”

“Me, too.” Ray says, hitting Seth’s shoulder back in what could be construed as a friendly touch, but there is so much force Seth stumbles to the side. “Oops. Sometimes I forget my own strength.”

“Fucking parasite,” he mutters, once Seth disappears into the crowd.

His hand steadies at my elbow. “You all right? You went pale. Thought I’d have to catch you.”

I shake my head, throat bone-dry. “I’m fine. Just need a minute.”

“You sure?” For once, the bravado is gone. Concern furrows his brow.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Promise.”

“Come on.” His hand presses lightly on the small of my back. “Let’s take a breather.”

We walk the edge of the ballroom, Ray waving off the people trying to intercept him. My chest feels tight, and my breathing is shallow. The longer we move through the glittering crowd, the more convinced I am that every glance is aimed my way. I tell myself to calm down, that I’m perfectly safe, but the image of Keith’s body rears up in my memory, and I relive the feeling of the man grabbing me outside my office. My skin is hot and prickling, and I know I’m seconds from losing it. Ruining everything.

When we turn into a side hallway leading toward the restrooms, the shift in light and sound gives me an instant reprieve.The space here is dimmer, quieter. A handful of people linger in the corridor, each trying to catch Ray’s attention as he strides by.

Ray stops at the ladies’ room door. “Want me to check inside?”

I blink, caught off guard. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“You’d be surprised what I’ve seen in locker rooms.” He cracks a smile, but his shoulders are tense.

“I’ll be fine.” I put my hand on the door.

He shifts his weight, scanning the hallway. “I’ll be right here. Head on a swivel.” He taps the side of his nose and winks.

I want to laugh as he intends, but I can’t. “Ray?”

He turns toward me.

“Thank you.”

He grunts, but a faint wash of color touches his cheeks. “You'd better stop flirting with me before your man gets mad.”

I duck into the restroom as my throat closes on a laugh that won’t come. The door shuts behind me, and I hurry down the tiled row to the far stall. Locking the door, I sit hard on the closed lid. My knees bounce. My hands won’t stop shaking, so I curl them into fists, digging my nails into my palms.

Breathe. In. Out. Again.

One. Two. Three. Four.

“So, you’refine?” Brady’s voice is in my ear.

I press my fingertips to my temples, trying to steady the spin in my head. My voice slips out hoarse, unable to hide what I’m feeling. “Felt like I was about to vomit on his shoes.”

“You didn’t. That’s what counts,” Brady’s no-nonsense tone answers.