Chapter 11
Eleven
T he cocktail hour was in full swing, the air alive with the hum of conversation and the soft clinking of glasses. The sprawling rooms were illuminated by chandeliers and candles set in ornate holders, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors and richly decorated walls. Servers moved discreetly between the guests, offering trays of hors d'oeuvres and drinks.
Noah leaned closer to Ruth as they entered the main room, his eyes flicking briefly down to her towering emerald heels. “Okay,” he murmured with a teasing grin, “how in the world are you walking in those? I’ve seen SWAT team members with less balance.”
Ruth laughed softly, the sound light and melodic. “Years of practice,” she said, arching a brow. “Besides, they’re worth the pain.”
“They’re dangerous, that’s what they are,” he replied, his voice low and playful. “I might have to confiscate them.”
“Oh, really?” she challenged, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “On what grounds?”
“Too distracting,” he said simply, his gaze drifting down to her legs before flicking back to her face. “How’s a guy supposed to concentrate?”
Ruth rolled her eyes, but her cheeks blushed, betraying her delight.
* * *
As they made their way through the room, Ruth stopped to introduce Noah to her colleagues. She greeted Melanie, her secretary, who beamed at Ruth and then turned to introduce her boyfriend, a tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy hair and a friendly smile.
“Noah, this is Luke Andrews,” Melanie said, slipping her arm through her boyfriend’s. “Luke, this is Noah Kandor.”
The moment Luke extended his hand, Noah felt the flicker of recognition, sharp and immediate. His grip was firm, his smile polite, but his eyes lingered just a beat too long. There was an unspoken understanding, a silent acknowledgment that both men had seen things others hadn’t.
Noah’s mind raced. ATF. That’s where I’ve seen him. He filed the thought away with the certainty that Luke Andrews wasn’t here by coincidence.
“Good to meet you,” Noah said evenly, matching Luke’s neutral tone.
Luke’s polite smile didn’t waver. “Likewise.”
Melanie, oblivious to the silent exchange, squeezed Luke’s arm. “Luke just got back from a business trip last week. He’s been swamped with work, but I told him he couldn’t miss this.”
“My boss and his family headed out of town, but I managed to get some time off. Wouldn’t want to miss this.” Luke placed a peck on Melanie’s cheek.
Noah inclined his head, but his mind churned with questions. Why was Luke here? And what role did he play in this tangled web?
After a few minutes of polite conversation, Noah excused himself to get Ruth a glass of wine. When he returned, he found her in conversation with two older couples who exuded authority and refinement. Ruth introduced Blake Ellison and his wife, Claire, as well as Dylan Grant and his wife, Margaret.
Blake greeted Noah with a warm smile, his handshake firm and genuine. “Noah, good to meet you. Ruth’s told me a bit about you.”
“She has?” Noah replied lightly, though he noted the paternal concern in Blake’s tone.
Blake chuckled. “Only good things, I assure you. Ruth’s got a sharp mind and a good heart—just like her dad. Chuck and I went to school together. He was one of the best men I ever met.”
Ruth blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the unexpected mention of her father. “You knew my dad that well?”
Blake’s expression softened. “We were close. Chuck was a force to be reckoned with—kind, determined, always putting others first. I’m sorry he was gone before you got to know him. When he talked about his girls, his eyes would light up. Always said they were going places, and then he’d round it out, ‘Like going to bed.’” Everyone laughed. “I feel badly that I lost touch with your mother.”
She gulped and glanced down, pretending to adjust her bracelet. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Blake placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’d be proud of the woman you’ve become.”
Before she could respond, Dylan Grant cleared his throat. “Well, it seems Chuck Everhart wasn’t wrong about your potential. Ruth has certainly proven herself at the firm.” His sharp gaze flicked to Noah, and the warmth Blake had exuded evaporated. “Mr. Kandor, is it? I understand you’re with the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”
Noah knew his big boss, U.S. Attorney Thomas Calloway, must have outed him. Evan wouldn’t have. “That’s right.” His tone was polite but measured.
Dylan offered a curt nod, his expression cool. “Interesting line of work. Ruth, of course, is focused on cases that directly impact the firm’s bottom line.”
The implication was clear, and Noah resisted the urge to bristle. Instead, he simply said, “Ruth’s work speaks for itself. She’s one of the most dedicated professionals I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.”
Blake smiled at that, clearly pleased, but Dylan’s expression didn’t waver. His jaw tightened slightly, and for a fleeting moment, Noah saw something flicker in his eyes—something guarded and uneasy.
As the conversation continued, Noah couldn’t shake the sense that Dylan Grant was hiding something. His standoffishness wasn’t just snobbery—it was defensive, almost desperate. A man like Dylan Grant didn’t rise to his level of power without some skeletons in his closet, and Noah couldn’t help but wonder, considering the presence of ATF agent Luke Andrews, if they were connected to Maxim Fairchild, Verdant Horizons, or something else entirely.
Blake, meanwhile, seemed genuinely invested in Ruth’s well-being. As the group spoke, he frequently turned the conversation back to her, recounting stories of her accomplishments and jokingly teasing her about her tendency to overwork herself.
“Don’t let Dylan scare you,” Blake said with a wink. “He’s a perfectionist, but he knows talent when he sees it. And Ruth? She’s got plenty of it.”
Ruth blushed faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her nervous tell. “Thank you, Mr. Ellison.”
“Blake,” he corrected gently. “Your dad wouldn’t forgive me if I let you call me anything else.”
Ruth’s lips curved into a small smile.
Dylan, however, seemed less inclined to let the moment linger. “Excuse me,” he said abruptly, stepping away under the pretense of refilling his drink. Margaret followed, her expression unreadable.
Noah’s gaze tracked Dylan for a moment before returning to Blake. “Is he always like that?”
Blake sighed, his jovial demeanor dimming slightly. “Dylan’s... complicated. He’s got a lot on his plate, and he’s not the easiest man to get to know. We met when we were both working for the district attorney’s office, what feels like a century ago.”
Noah nodded, but he couldn’t ignore the unease that settled in his gut. Dylan Grant was hiding something, and whatever it was, it was eating away at him.
As Noah escorted Ruth toward the buffet, something caught his eye across the room. Dylan Grant stood near the far end of the patio deep in conversation with Noah’s big boss, Thomas Calloway. Their postures were tense, their voices low, and though Noah couldn’t hear the exchange, he could read the body language—Grant was agitated, while Calloway remained impassive, his arms crossed as he listened. Whatever was being discussed, it wasn’t casual.
Then, as if sensing Noah’s gaze, Dylan glanced over, his expression unreadable. A beat later, he said something to Calloway, straightened his suit jacket, and moved away, disappearing into the crowd.
Noah barely had time to process the interaction before Calloway began making his way over. Within moments, the U.S. attorney reached them, his sharp gaze sweeping over the group filling their plates before settling on Noah. “Evening,” he greeted smoothly, offering his hand.
“Sir,” Noah said, shaking it firmly. He kept his expression neutral, though Calloway’s presence was never something he could ignore.
Calloway gave a small, unreadable smile. “Didn’t expect you to be here.” His gaze flicked briefly to Ruth before Noah cleared his throat.
“Ruth, this is U.S. Attorney Thomas Calloway,” Noah said, gesturing between them. “Sir, this is Ruth Everhart.”
Ruth extended her hand, her expression poised. “Mr. Calloway, it’s a pleasure.”
Calloway shook her hand, studying her with quiet interest. “Mr. Grant was telling me about you, Miss Everhart. Your firm’s making quite an impact in this town.”
Ruth smiled politely, but Noah caught the flicker of curiosity in her eyes. Whatever had passed between Calloway and Grant, it was clear Ruth was now part of the equation, whether she realized it or not.
As the cocktail hour continued, Noah remained hyperaware of the dynamics at play. Blake’s warmth, Dylan’s defensiveness, and Luke Andrews’ silent recognition all hinted at deeper layers to unravel. For now, though, his focus was on Ruth, whose resilience and grace shone despite the complexities surrounding her. Whatever challenges lay ahead, Noah was determined to protect her.