Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
The valet took Max's keys as they stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of Ceylon.
The restaurant occupied the ground floor of a historic building; its facade was dark-red brick with iron-detailed accents.
Warm light spilled through tall, diamond-paned windows.
A discreet brass plaque beside the entrance was the only sign that this was one of the city's most exclusive dining establishments.
Max's hand found the small of her back as they approached the entrance, and Kara felt the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of her coat.
She told herself the flutter in her stomach was just nerves about the investigation, nothing to do with how good he looked in that perfectly tailored suit or the way his green eyes had darkened when he'd seen her in this dress.
Stop it, she thought firmly. This is work. He's a potential witness. Possibly even a suspect if Dominic is involved.
But damn, he wore that suit well.
The ma?tre d' greeted them. "Welcome. Mr. Ashford's party is upstairs in the private dining room. Isla will take you there."
An attractive blonde led them up a thickly carpeted staircase to the second floor.
The private dining room was everything she'd expected: high ceilings with ornate molding, chandeliers that probably cost more than her annual salary, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the street below.
About fifteen people were already there, champagne flutes in hand, engaged in polite conversation that came naturally to people who regularly attended twenty-five-thousand-dollar-a-plate fundraisers.
Not that this was a formal fundraiser, but it certainly had to be about money.
Dominic spotted them immediately and crossed the room, his expression carefully neutral. He looked every inch the billionaire host in a navy suit, his blond hair perfectly styled, his smile practiced and somewhat cool.
"Max," he said, shaking his hand. Then his gaze moved to Kara, and she saw the brief flicker of wariness before he masked it. "Kara. Max mentioned you might join us."
"Thank you for including me." She extended her hand, and his grip was firm, assessing.
"Of course. Let's get you both some champagne." He waved a server over, who offered them champagne, and then moved toward a trio of men who had just arrived.
She sipped her champagne as her gaze scanned the room of rich and beautiful people. "So, who's who?" she murmured to Max.
Before he could answer, a striking blonde woman in an emerald cocktail dress made her way toward them with a purposeful stride that suggested she wasn't about to be ignored. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, with sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes.
"Hello, Max," she said with a British accent. "I didn't realize you'd be joining us tonight."
"Dominic invited me," he replied smoothly, his hand finding Kara's waist. "Caroline Rowe, this is Kara Reid. Caroline is Dominic's Vice President of Business Development."
"It's nice to meet you," she said.
"You too," Caroline replied, although she didn't seem interested at all as her gaze turned to Max. "Is there any positive…news?"
"No," he said.
"That's unfortunate." She paused as her gaze moved to a new couple entering the room. "Excuse me."
Kara thought Caroline might go to greet the new arrivals, but she went over to Dominic and whispered in his ear, then pulled him away from his group. Her hand lingered on his arm in a way that felt possessive, territorial.
"Caroline is in love with Dominic," she murmured.
Max gave her a surprised look. "I don't think so."
"I do. When she asked for news, I assumed she was speaking about Samantha."
"Yes, and she's also aware that Dominic asked me to look into the bombing."
"Have you ever seen her interact with Samantha? I wonder what the vibe is between them?"
"I couldn't tell you," he said. "Dominic has never mentioned any romantic involvement with Caroline, but she seems to be very close to him, very loyal. She's always concerned about his security, but I'm sure many people are after what happened six months ago."
"What happened then?" she asked.
"It was overseas in Dushanbe. Dominic's security team was ambushed. He wasn't hurt, but two of his bodyguards were killed. That's why he hired me. He was afraid that someone might have leaked his security plans or his itinerary."
"That's interesting," she mused. "But how private was that itinerary? I found one for his next trip in Samantha's apartment."
"He gave her the itinerary. I was there when he did," Max replied.
A loud voice interrupted their conversation.
"Dominic," a man repeated as he moved through the crowd, his face red with what appeared to be anger. He appeared to be in his forties with pepper-gray hair and a stocky build. Two men in suits were following him, as well as an older man, who appeared to be in his seventies or eighties.
"Richard," Dominic said, his tone neutral, as he moved forward. He turned to the older man. "Joseph. I didn't realize your son was coming."
Regret ran across Joseph's face. "I couldn't stop him."
"I've been trying to get you on the phone for three weeks, Dominic," Richard said, his voice carrying across the room. "Why are you dodging my calls? Why did you hand our contract to someone else?"
"Richard Greco," Max whispered in Kara's ear. "And his father, Joseph Greco. They run Greco Electrical. They've acted as subcontractors on many jobs."
"I haven't handed anything to anyone," Dominic said, his pleasant tone edged with steel. "We're still finalizing contracts for Tajikistan."
"Finalizing?" Richard's laugh was harsh. "Bullshit. You're going with Ridley Aames. Twenty years of loyalty, and this is how you repay it?"
"Richard, please." Joseph Greco's voice was calm and diplomatic. Clearly, he was used to smoothing his son's rough edges. "Dominic, I apologize. I wanted to bring this up with you at a different time."
"But you don't make time for us," Richard interrupted. "Your assistant said you're completely booked for weeks."
"Let's talk tomorrow," Dominic said. "I'll have my assistant call you in the morning."
"Or we could do it now," Richard said. "Why wait?"
"Tomorrow will be fine," Joseph interrupted. "We're leaving now."
Richard spluttered protests, but his father and the security detail escorted them out of the room.
Dominic exchanged some private words with a tall, lean man with dark hair and dark eyes as the conversations in the room resumed.
"Sounds like Richard Greco has a beef with Dominic," she commented as she sipped her champagne. "Who's Dominic talking to now?"
"Sebastian Hanover, Executive Vice President of Operations and longtime friend. And Greco was definitely not happy about losing a big contract."
"After that scene, I'd be surprised if his company gets another one in the future."
"They won't," he said with certainty. "I suspect Richard's father, Joseph, knows that."
"Well, we can put the Greco's on Dominic's enemy list."
"As I said before, that list will be long."
She didn't doubt that, but she could also see a lot of fawning smiles in this room. "He seems to be surrounded by love here."
"Looks more like attention to me, and he does love that." As Max finished speaking, a Middle Eastern man in his fifties approached. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard.
"Max," the man said, a surprised gleam in his eyes. "Didn't take you for the party type."
"Dominic's request. Good to see you, Hamid. This is Kara Reid."
"He turned to Kara with warmth in his eyes. "Hamid Azani. I'm VP of Global Operations for Ashford Industries."
"Nice to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine." Hamid turned back to Max, his expression shifting to something more serious. "I was going to text you earlier about setting up a meeting to discuss next month's trip. I have concerns."
"About what?" Max asked.
"I think we're being too cautious. Too hidden.
" Hamid gestured with his champagne glass.
"The whole point of going there is to show the local community and investors that we're committed, that we're not afraid.
If we skulk around in armored vehicles and avoid public spaces, what message does that send? "
"It sends the message that we want everyone to survive the trip," Max said dryly.
"I understand security is your priority, but mine is the success of this project." Hamid's jaw tightened slightly. "And that requires presence. Dominic shaking hands, being seen, showing confidence. Otherwise, why bother going at all?" He paused. "Can I steal you away for just a moment?"
Max gave her a questioning look.
"Go," she said. "I'll be fine."
"We won't be long," Hamid promised her.
She nodded as she sipped her champagne. The crowd was growing bigger, and as a new group descended on the room, she had to back away. Unfortunately, she ran into another body, a man who appeared to be in his early forties with dark-framed glasses and a pleasant expression.
"I'm so sorry," she said.
"No problem. It's getting crowded. I'm David Hartford."
"Kara Reid. Do you work with Dominic?"
"Sometimes. I run an investment company."
"Are you an investor in the Tajikistan project?" Kara asked.
"I am, yes." David pushed his glasses up his nose. "Dominic's work is inspiring. He's going to change lives, and it's exciting to be a part of that. What about you?"
"Oh, no. I'm just here with a friend." At his questioning glance, she added, "I'm a middle school teacher. This is not my usual scene."
His smile broadened. "Middle school teachers change lives, too. I've always believed teachers to be our unsung heroes."
"That's nice of you to say, and of course, I agree," she said. "My mother was a teacher, too."
"Mine as well," he said, tipping his champagne glass to hers.
She gave him a smile as Max rejoined them. "Max," she said, "Do you know David Hartford?"
"I don't," Max replied as he shook hands with David.
"Are you a teacher as well?" David asked.