Nor am I expecting, when I suck in a breath and look up, to see that it’s Easterly Ribbon.
She’s still gleaming with post-performance sweat, her hair a blue mess, but she looks absolutely brilliant.
“Hey,” she says shyly.
I blink, then offer a smile. “Hey yourself. You were spectacular up there!”
“Yeah?” She smiles, adorably flustered. “I was so nervous I thought I was gonna faint.”
“You’re a natural. You had the whole crowd spellbound,” I say sincerely.
Blushing, she ducks her head. “Well, thanks. Listen, um, I just wanted to talk to you for a sec. About Vance. He’s...he’s really not that bad. He was just nervous for me, but I’m sorry he was so rude to you and Milah.”
I don’t want to say it’s okay, but I don’t want to scold her, either.
I’m still feeling her out. I can’t scare her off.
If there’s something bad going on, when the time comes, if I reach out a hand...
She might just take it.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. It wasn’t your fault.” I muster a neutral tone.
“Well, yeah. Still...” She glances away, toying with a strand of her smurfy blue hair. “Do you think, um...” Every pause reminds me how young she really is—the way she hesitates, the way she fidgets. She may be a legal adult, but she’s still a girl. “I’m gonna be around Chicago for a little longer. You want to do an interview, maybe? A deep dive like the one you did for Peggy Lee, only I’m actually alive to talk to you.”
Whoa.
For a second, I can’t believe my dumb luck.
I didn’t even have to ask. This would be the perfect chance to get Easterly alone and see if there’s any hope of figuring out what’s going on beneath the surface with her and Vance Haydn.
Part of me feels dirty for being so opportunistic.
It’s like Roland Osprey and his schemes are rubbing off on me.
But the rest of me cares about making sure Haydn can’t hurt her. There’s obviously something unhealthy going on, whether she’s in denial or not.
I guess that’s what prompts me to smile and offer my hand.
“It’s a deal. How about I give you my number, and you can call me tomorrow to set something up?”
“Yeah, okay. Cool!” Her slender hand slips into mine, squeezing tight.
We linger a little while longer, chatting idly as we trade contacts before a slim woman who says she’s Easterly’s assistant comes to shepherd her into a sleek town car.
The entire gala’s almost emptied out now. I feel like the last scrap of confetti left behind after prom night as I make my way down the abandoned red carpet with no one to see me looking pretty in my stunning dress but me.
Maybe my Uber driver will appreciate the Cinderella look and sweep me away to dance on the streets until the clock strikes midnight.
As I order up a car and wait on the sidewalk, though, I hug my arms around myself, shifting my weight restlessly.
I don’t like this.
Playing so sneaky and underhanded for whatever Osprey’s ends might be.
Supposedly, it’s helping Easterly—I hope—but I wonder what less noble thing he’s after, too
Also, I’d rather be straightforward about what I want from her.
Then again, I know.
I know what people in abusive relationships are like when they’re in denial or when they’re just too scared to get help, to run.
Be too direct, and they’ll shut down.
They’ll run, all right.
Away from you.
So maybe the devil’s got it right, for now, no matter what he’s truly after.
I only wish it changed how dirty I feel as I settle into my ride with a chill creeping up my spine all the way home.
6
Can I Get A Hallelujah? (Roland)
Irritated? Yes, I fucking am.
Callie—Miss Landry—appears to be ignoring me.
She hasn’t responded to my texts all day. Emails, unanswered.
I haven’t heard from her since the music gala last night at the Winthrope.
I’d sent her there on a fact-finding mission. A dazzling new weapon in my arsenal against a man who deserves nothing but ruin.
The least she could do is report in. Share a few facts. Enlighten me.
The worst part—if I’ll admit it—is that I’m worried.
That’s how I realize Miss Landry has a truly special ability to drop me on my head.
What if something happened to her? A beautiful young woman alone, in a dress like that, as stunning as she looked so late at night—fuck.
“No,” I snarl at myself.
If something happened, I would’ve heard it by now through my network.
If I wanted, I could pick up the phone right now and call half a dozen people who could confirm she’s in her office and snicker at the fact that she’s just snubbing me.
That’s exactly why my pride won’t let me do something so simple.
People don’t ignore me, especially not fresh-faced new hires like her.
I certainly don’t go chasing women who work for me.