I gingerly picked up her purse and set it on the nightstand, wanting to say a million things to her, but couldn’t. I kept my gaze fixed on her as she lay down on her side, tucking her hands beneath the pillow under her head.
My voice wavered, wanting to break under the need to ask more. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah.” She knew what I meant because her expression was full of anxiety. “I hope so.”
It spilled from me, carrying as much weight as possible. “Hey, I love you.”
“Love you too,” she said.
I couldn’t stay here with her. The last thing I needed was Wayne to come looking for me, and I felt Tiffany’s curious gaze on us. I’d dated Jillian for a year, and she’d never heard me say those words to her sister.
“She’ll be more comfortable in the quiet,” I said, “and probably asleep before we make it back downstairs.” It seemed to convince Tiffany I wasn’t a shitty person who was abandoning their sick partner in favor of a party. We exited, and I pulled the door closed behind us, hating that Emery would have to do this next part without me.
It had been years since I’d been in the Lambert house, and it was strange to be back. Tiffany was quiet as we moved down the hallway, and I sensed there was something she wanted to say but didn’t know how. When we reached the top of the stairs, she abruptly pulled to a stop.
“Your girlfriend’s dress is beautiful.” She stared at me like she knew a secret. “Where’d she get it?”
I blinked, evaluating how much to reveal. “A friend designed it for her.”
Her smile was an enigma, but her knowing eyes gave it away. “Hmm. Her friend is very talented.”
So, she did know what became of her sister.
“Yes,” my voice was warm, “I think so too.”
When we returned to the tent, cocktail hour had begun, and I made my rounds as required, but my thoughts were one hundred percent on the woman I’d left upstairs. I wanted to text her and ask if her equipment was all right but didn’t dare disturb her, and we’d agreed not to leave any proof on our phones of the crime she was about to commit.
Instead, I visualized what she would be doing right now. Assuming her amplifier was okay, the first thing she’d planned was to double check the camera and sensors were still disabled in Wayne’s bedroom. She’d logged into her system at work this afternoon and taken the whole second floor of the house down for ‘maintenance,’ which would conveniently end at two in the morning tomorrow.
And once she was sure the hallway was clear, she’d sneak into Wayne’s room, don her gloves, and locate the safe.
Had she already done that? Was she on her knees right now, taping her amplifier and her graph paper to the front of the door? Fuck, I hoped so. I was jittery and sweating beneath my suit coat, making my dress shirt stick uncomfortably to my back. Being on the sidelines when so much was at stake was freaking killing me.
I’d been in the house when my father and Sophia arrived, so I’d missed the show of side-eye and murmurs of interest. Most of Cape Hill tolerated my father dating a woman half his age, or at least they did to his face, but it wasn’t the big scandal tonight. It was Sophia attending the retirement party thrown for the man who refused to claim her as his daughter.
Damon Lynch and my father had been friends once, but what Damon had done to her was unforgiveable in my father’s eyes.
Or so I thought, right up until the moment my father stepped in front of the microphone with a glass of champagne in hand. He held a piece of cutlery in his other, which he’d likely swiped from one of the place settings nearby. He tapped the edge of his knife against the side of his glass, signaling to the crowd to quiet so they could listen to his toast.
“Please forgive the interruption,” he started. “I have something I’d like to share.”
The music faded and conversations ceased. Macalister Hale was still the king of this town, and when he spoke, Cape Hill listened. It was the sinister smile creeping on his lips that told me he was up to something.
“This morning,” he continued, “I asked Sophia Alby to be my wife, and she did me the honor of accepting my proposal.”
The buzz from the crowd rippled through the tent, and my mouth fell open, only for me to snap it shut with a smile that was probably identical to his. I was sure some people’s attention went to Sophia, but most gazes shot to Damon, who was frozen with a glass of champagne in his hand. He’d thought this was going to be a toast in his honor, given by the former chairman who’d installed him on the board.