stood near the main entrance, smoothing the skirt of her navy blue cocktail dress. It

oint. The guard, a man with a clip

am

showing the digital invit

st. Up and down. "I'm sorry,

oun Maynard." Her eyes conveyed

dy inside. You are not listed as a guest."

e paparazzi flashes. She knew this hotel. She had done threat assessments for thr

en was a chaotic inferno of shouting chefs and clattering pans. The air was thick wit

be here!" a so

pointed towards a fire alarm panel with a look of intense concern. As he turned, distracted for

jarring-from the noise and heat of the kitchen to the cool, scented air of the gala. S

olding court with the board members of the Van der Sloot Media Group. And there was Conr

her ribs. She moved along the pe

she s

back to her. The cut of the jacket, the way he held his drink-it was Ca

, not relief, flooding her chest. He was

alhoun!" she called out in her mind, thoug

d. Calhoun leaned in, smiling that charming, lopsided smile that the w

oze behin

h for a second. An alert from her encrypted app. He frowned, tapped the screen aggressively

. It was Hali Potts, the daughter of

e room, his eyes shifting nervously. He adjusted his tie

t her distance, using the cl

ho it is," a

one to prep school with. They were lookin

ed loud enough to be heard. "Did you

the double doors of the VIP lounge. Two massive bodyguards s

before the door clos

ent case. The same one that held th

ut. The bodyguards

eces slammed together in her mind, for

past the guards

rvice cart down the hallway, heading toward the service eleva

eached into her purse and pul

through a pre-written text on her phone, her voice hard and clear in digital form. "You ha

keycard, then at her desperate

ported a faulty alarm," she te

zes too big, her hair tucked under a cap. She kept her head down,

bled to the guards. "Mo

he cart, then grunted

the cart into