Chapter 36 Elizabeth
ELIZABETH
The opulent ballroom décor is overwhelming, which seems an appropriate match for my feelings this evening.
High ceilings rise above me, trimmed with intricate gold-leaf moldings, reflecting the chandeliers’ glow.
Arched windows with heavy velvet drapes line the walls, shadows softening the flood of light from above.
High-top cocktail tables are scattered throughout, and tall vases overflow with white flowers so perfect they almost look unreal.
Again, how appropriate.
Overwhelming and fake.
I look around the room at the perfectly dressed people, dripping in jewels. The whole thing is a facade. How many here know where the money for this charity is really going? How evil the woman behind it is?
The air hums with the swell of strings from a quartet and the murmur of conversations, punctuated with bursts of bright laughter across the parquet floor.
Ray clearly does not feel the same as I do. He belongs here. He steps forward into the crowd with easy confidence, his arm firm beneath my hand, and I fight not to tighten my grip.
My chest feels too tight, the fabric of this dress cutting into my ribs with every inhale. Breathe. Smile. Keep moving.
“Aren’t they coming in?” I ask when his two bodyguards take up position by the doors.
Ray gives me an amused smile. “It’s a bad look if I can’t defend myself with a bunch of soft, rich people.”
I push down my feeling of unease as the space between us and the guards grows. “You look beautiful.” His voice is smooth, pitched low enough for only me.
I tilt my head, catching his grin. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Ray wears his clearly custom tuxedo as if he were born in it, which is a little surprising considering his attire at our last meeting. His broad shoulders and imposing figure make it plain to any onlooker that he hasn’t lost his edge. He’s almost as handsome as Brady.
Almost.
The glances aren’t subtle. Recognition flashes across the faces around us, and heads turn.
Whispers shift like ripples across the room.
I can’t tell if they’re sizing me up or marveling at him—their hometown champion, the legendary boxer, parading me on his arm.
My skin prickles under the scrutiny, but I lock my spine straight.
This isn’t the first intimidating room I’ve walked into. I can do this.
“Here we go,” I hear Finn’s voice in my ear. “Don’t forget to turn fully when you look around the room and move slowly so that the image doesn’t blur.” The clip-on earrings are heavy, tugging at my lobes with the weight of the hidden microphone and pinhole camera.
They’re already live, and sending everything to Finn and Sera, who are parked outside in a surveillance van.
Ray smiles down at me. “Brady’s a lucky man.”
I don’t take the bait, keeping my gaze steady on the crowd ahead. “Your son is the most remarkable person I’ve ever met.”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re good at this.”
“I’m not trying to be. It’s the truth.”
We drift farther into the room. Champagne glasses catch the chandeliers’ light, held by staff gliding between guests with trays balanced high. The string quartet plays on a small riser near the front.
At first, people keep their distance, not wanting to be the first to approach the man of the hour, but then the mood shifts. A man, face flushed with excitement and alcohol, pushes forward for a handshake. That seems to signal the other guests, and they surround us.
Another man claps Ray’s back like they’re lifelong friends. Stories follow—long, drawn-out recollections of fights won years ago, punches thrown, blood spilled. Ray basks in it, and I swear his chest expands more with each retelling of his wins.
I hear Brady in my head, warning me about his father’s addiction to attention. He wasn’t exaggerating.
To his credit, Ray’s grip on me never falters, even when others angle to steal my place at his side. When I’m jostled harder than before, the group is met with the same look his opponents must’ve seen seconds before a knockout. His arm snakes around my waist, holding me tight.
“Apologize to the lady,” he growls.
The man who bumped me blanches, and the crowd instinctively takes a step back, giving us space. On any other occasion, I’d laugh at the spectacle, but not tonight. However, I do feel steadier with him now than I did walking in.
I hold my place at Ray’s side, nodding in the right places while my eyes skim the room. Rhodes moves past in a waiter’s jacket. His eyes meet mine for half a second before his gaze slides past as if I don’t exist.
Right. Don’t look for them. Don’t give anything away. Act normal.
Normal. Yeah, right.
Still no sign of Brady. Or Vincent.
My pulse stutters.
I must give something away because Ray makes an excuse about finding the bar and moves us away to an empty spot nearby. His mouth lowers to my ear so only I can hear. “Are you nervous?”
“A little,” I admit.
“You’re trembling.” He places a comforting hand on my forearm. I hadn’t noticed the faint shake until he drew attention to it.
“Cold?”
I straighten, forcing the quiver out of my body with sheer will. “Just taking it all in.”
“Good girl.” He smirks. “Can’t have people saying my date is scared of me.”
I choke out a small laugh. “Definitely bad for the reputation of a womanizer.”
Ray presses a hand to his chest. “You wound me, darling. I’m doing a good job so far, aren’t I?”
I smile at that, a genuine one. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Excellent. So, you’ll say nice things about me to the family, right? Help smooth things over?”
“If it comes up,” I say archly.
Ray barks out a laugh. “Damn. I didn’t expect to like you.”
A man in his early thirties steps into our path as we turn from the bar, champagne in my hand, a glass of water in Ray’s.
The man’s pale, slicked-back hair and smug expression smack of entitlement.
His watery, blue eyes drag over me with deliberate slowness before snapping to Ray and he claps a hand on Ray’s shoulder.
“I’ve got some special VIPs I need you to greet.” He doesn’t even glance my way.
Ray doesn’t move. His grin turns almost mockingly indulgent as the man’s fingers tighten on his shoulder, a silent test of strength against a world champion.
“I’ll get to all my fans, don’t worry.” Ray’s smile is sharp, and for a heartbeat I see Brady in him—the same charm masking something harder underneath.
“Elizabeth Gowan, meet Seth Wyland,” Ray says. “Seth is one of the sponsors of the charity match.”
Seth stiffens. Recognition flickers across his face, and his eyes narrow. He knows who I am.
I mask the icy sensation trailing down my spine.
“You’re an entertainment lawyer.”
“I am. Though I don’t think we’ve met.” My glass rises to my lips, cover for the quick swallow I need.
His gaze cuts to Ray. “How do the two of you know each other?” His tone attempts idle curiosity, but his coiled body betrays him
“Mutual friend,” Ray answers easily. “Elizabeth heard about the party and asked if I could bring her.”
“Really?” Seth’s eyes are flat when they meet mine and vaguely reptilian.
The sips of champagne are sloshing in my stomach, but I keep my best social smile on my face. “I thought it’d be an excellent opportunity. A lot of influential people within these walls tonight. Too good to miss.” I smile sweetly. “Hopefully, find some common ground.”
His stare bores into me, but I don’t flinch, even as Ray shifts slightly in front of me. I squeeze his arm to let him know I’m okay. I can handle this.
“You’re extremely honest.” The sound Seth makes could pass for a chuckle, though there’s no humor in it. “Most people pretend they aren’t here to trade favors.”
“It’s always important to network.” My tone is dry, but inside, I’m shaking.
Seth purses his lips and cocks his head to the side. “You know… I think I’ve heard Anna mention you before.”
The name all but detonates my composure.
My pulse spikes, a cold pit growing inside me.
My fingers clench around the stem of my glass so tight I almost expect it to shatter.
Air sticks in my throat. Fear and anger vie for dominance inside me.
How many lives has she ruined? How many people has she destroyed?
“Anna Lindquist?”
“Yes. She mentioned bringing some celebrities to her charity. Said you represent a few of them.” His smile is a mask, because I can see the malice lurking in his eyes. “Didn’t you represent Natalya Carrow? Tragic, what happened to her.”
My throat locks. “It was tragic.” The words scrape out unevenly, and I hate that he can see my nerves crack. I know he’s trying to intimidate me by openly mentioning Natalya’s murder, and damn it—it’s working.
“I’d like to meet Anna,” I manage, “but first I should powder my nose.”
Seth smirks at me. “No problem. Be sure to come find us when you get back.” He slaps Ray’s shoulder harder than necessary. “Can’t wait for the show tomorrow, old man.”
“Me, too.” Ray says, hitting Seth’s shoulder back in what could be construed as a friendly touch, but there is so much force Seth stumbles to the side. “Oops. Sometimes I forget my own strength.”
“Fucking parasite,” he mutters, once Seth disappears into the crowd.
His hand steadies at my elbow. “You all right? You went pale. Thought I’d have to catch you.”
I shake my head, throat bone-dry. “I’m fine. Just need a minute.”
“You sure?” For once, the bravado is gone. Concern furrows his brow.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Promise.”
“Come on.” His hand presses lightly on the small of my back. “Let’s take a breather.”