11 Fishing
Fishing
Evelyn’s smile bloomed. The fierceness in her eyes, and in the line of her jaw, told me she wasn’t someone to be messed with.
When she looked my way, I smiled and extended a hand. “Olivia Taylor.” She shook my hand and examined me intently, as if seeing right through me. I held my breath.
“I heard of you,” she said. “But I’ve never seen you before. Good to meet you.”
When the white-gloved waiter came by to fill our glasses, he found us deep in conversation about the latest art exhibit at the Bellagio—just one of many topics we’d bounced between.
Mostly, she talked, her enthusiasm boundless, while I asked the occasional question to keep the conversation flowing.
Every now and then, I glanced around the rest of the room, searching for Winston Donovan.
After about twenty minutes of waiting, he arrived, greeted enthusiastically by many of the other guests.
He was handsome and charming, elegant in a tailored tux, with Claire on his arm wearing a gown in black and white, accessorized with a black necklace that had me green with envy.
She floated across the floor like royalty, visibly belonging.
I stared at the two of them, breathless while my heart thumped in my chest, and wondered whether she’d ever felt hunger gnawing at her insides like I had. If she’d ever been cold. Or afraid.
How had she become the Claire Donovan I was looking at? Had her path been set by the gods of fate, by birth? Or was it something she’d hunted for, just like I was?
“Ah,” Evelyn reacted, noticing who had piqued my interest. “They are something, aren’t they?” Her diamond earrings sparkled as she turned her head.
“She is . . . quite a vision. Who is she?”
Evelyn’s eyes darted at me. Her hand landed on my forearm.
“I’ll forgive your ignorance because you just got back in town.
That’s Claire Donovan, the powerhouse woman behind the one and only Winston James Donovan.
He’s into renewable energy.” She chuckled.
“Or, as we like to say, he’s into wasting precious real estate on those ugly solar farms when he could be building something. ”
I laughed with her, feeling like we’d known each other for ages, purposely ignoring the other guests who were taking seats at our table and hoping they wouldn’t interrupt our conversation.
“I do admire his passion,” she added. “Winston’s nothing if not fanatical about solar energy. He brings every solar energy conference into this town, paying for their venue. Like the one next week, or maybe the week after that?”
“Oh? Why does he want them here?”
“Ah, my dear, for the sun, of course. He keeps saying to anyone who’ll listen, once these people see our sun, they’ll see the potential.”
Duh. The scorching Nevada sun. I should’ve thought of that.
For a while, we chatted with the other people seated at our table while I kept a discreet eye on Winston.
Where he sat. If he got up from his table, whom he talked with, and if he looked my way.
He was quite the social butterfly, choosing to eat quickly, then leave his table and mingle—sometimes with Claire by his side, other times alone.
He always smiled and seemed genuinely interested in and entertained by the people he chatted with.
On occasion, he would take the hand of a beautiful woman and hold it a bit too long, while I gritted my teeth.
As if he were about to cheat on me. As if he and I were already a thing.
“Claire, you said?” I asked Evelyn, leaning in and lowering my voice. “She seems a bit stressed out. Is Winston a faithful husband?”
She hid her burst of laughter behind a napkin.
“Ha! Not in the least. There were rumors that he slept with his neighbor’s wife, and that ended badly.
They divorced, and then the neighbor sued Winston for the entire amount his wife took in the divorce.
It was quite messy. Poor Claire. I thought she’d die of embarrassment, but she pulled through like a champion!
” Evelyn patted her lips with the white linen napkin, and her lipstick didn’t stain the fabric.
“And there have been other women, but not too many, from what I hear.”
Between the entrée and the dessert, I stood and walked toward the restroom, passing by Winston’s table without glancing at him once.
I stopped in his direct line of sight, though, my bare back turned toward him, and checked messages on my phone, then walked away slowly, swaying my hips.
On my way back from the restroom, I noticed he was looking straight at me, his eyes curious and a hint of a smile fluttering on his lips.
I nodded almost imperceptibly, but looked away without stopping.
As if I belonged there just as much as he did.
Chatting on with Evelyn about Claire and any gossip I could get her to share, I kept my eyes on Winston. He turned his head to look my way a couple of times, but I pretended not to notice. When I saw him getting ready to leave, I texted my limo driver.
Then I shook Evelyn’s hand and said goodbye. She surprised me, standing and giving me a long hug. “If you ever get tired of hotels and want to live in a real home, let me build one for you!”
I nodded, feeling gratitude and excitement as if that was a real possibility.
“You’re on,” I said, squeezing her hand quickly because Winston and his wife were about to leave.
There was something genuinely warm about Evelyn, about the way we had connected.
In a different life, she and I could have been friends.
On the way to the exit, I cut in front of him, walking unrushed, perfectly aware how my body looked in the form-hugging Versace and knowing he’d slow his speed to match mine.
We took separate elevators down, and I got to the lobby first, but lingered a little, giving him time to catch up.
Then, when I’d almost reached the exit, I found myself surrounded by hollering paparazzi.
I let them delay me for just a brief moment, until I could see Winston and Claire getting close, but then I rushed out of the hotel holding a hand to my face. As I stepped through the doors, the paparazzi turned their attention to the Donovans.
“Mr. Donovan, are you happy with tonight’s event?” Tony’s voice cut through the noise, loud and just grating enough to demand attention. Cameras clicked, flashing as the paparazzi swarmed around the Donovans, just as they had around me moments earlier.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Winston replied. He had a pleasant voice, kind and melodious. “We had a very nice showing. I’m sure tonight will make a huge difference.”
I reached my limo, my driver already holding the door open. As I slid inside, I caught movement in the reflection of the dark-tinted window—Winston gesturing toward me. Claire’s posture shifted, her expression turning to ice as she gripped his arm.
I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I didn’t need to. My phone vibrated in my clutch. I pulled it out, already guessing who it was.
Donovan just asked who you are. Claire looked like she wanted to strangle him, Tony’s message read.
I smiled, the corners of my lips curving as I typed back. And?
My phone chimed as I took my seat in the limo and the driver closed the door.
Told him you’re Olivia Taylor. Of the casino Taylors. Tony ended his message with a thumbs-up emoji.
As the limo set in motion, I imagined the scene unfolding just as I’d read his words—Winston’s curiosity, Claire’s iron grip tightening in warning. I leaned back against the plush leather seat, satisfied.
He was mine.
Hook, line, and sinker.
District Attorney Mitchell: What was your relationship with the defendant?
Alyssa Brooks: I leased her a furnished property in Henderson. I was her Realtor.
District Attorney Mitchell: Was there anything unusual about her interaction with you?
Alyssa Brooks: She signed the lease without seeing the place, and it was an expensive lease. I thought that was strange. She seemed to have ulterior motives for—
Defense Attorney Blake: Objection, Your Honor, speculation. The witness is guessing.
Judge Thomas Antunez: Sustained.