He Asked Me to Die Again, So I Named My Price novel · Chapter 18 of 24

Chapter 18: The Gala

The Stoughton Foundation gala filled the ballroom of the Harbor Hotel with three hundred people and one long chandelier.

Yvette came in on Alaric's arm in a dark green dress that Calla had picked out and zipped her into.

"You look like trouble," Calla had whispered at the car door. "Good trouble. Go be it."

Calla sat now at the family table with her new heart and a glass of sparkling water, pale and upright and furious.

Six days ago she had been on a monitor.

She had refused to stay home in bed.

"Day twenty-nine," Yvette thought, and the system said nothing, which was worse than if it had spoken.

Alaric's hand stayed at the small of her back through the whole length of the room.

At the head table sat Dorothea, in pearls and a pale gray gown, with a thin man in a brown suit at her left.

He had a thick neck and watchful eyes.

"That is him," Alaric said quietly.

"The detective?" Yvette asked.

"Yes."

"Does he know what he is part of?"

"He knows what she paid him," Alaric said.

Dinner was served, and cleared.

Yvette ate three bites and tasted none of them.

Across the table, a board member with a white mustache leaned toward her and said, kindly, "I understand you were a cleaner, my dear. How wonderful that the family has been so generous."

"They have been very generous," Yvette said.

"And before that?"

"I have worked in a great many places."

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