Chapter 15: Her Own Pearls

I did not go back to the hotel.

I took a cab to Chelsea with the green ledger in my bag and my father's watch against my ribs.

The gallery wing was lit bright.

Sheridan had a new show up, and the opening was full of Commission wives in silk, sipping champagne under the paintings.

She stood at the center of them with her hair in its clip and my pearls at her throat.

She saw me in the doorway and her smile did not slip.

"Mara," she said, so the whole room heard. "You came."

"I came for something that belongs to me."

The wives turned. Conversation stopped table by table.

"Oh, the pearls?" Sheridan touched them. "Teo gave them to me, darling. He said you wouldn't mind."

"Teo doesn't own them. They were his grandmother's, and she left them to the woman who married him."

"That would be you," Sheridan said. "Until Friday week."

I crossed the floor.

I stopped in front of her, close enough to smell her perfume.

"Unclasp them," I said.

"No."

"Then I will."

I reached up behind her neck, and she caught my wrist.

Her grip was hard. Her nails bit.

"Careful," she said quietly. "Benny's men are in the street."

"Good. Then they can watch."

I pulled her hand off my wrist and turned her by the shoulder.

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