Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter
Fifty-Two
Minnie’s art show turned out to be a swanky affair. Fortunately, my friends and I had dressed for the occasion. I hoped that meant we would blend in with the crowd, because we didn’t want anyone knowing our true purpose for attending the event.
“Please tell me we have a plan,” I whispered to my companions as I adjusted the strap of my emerald green dress.
A black-clad waitress carrying a tray of filled champagne flutes stopped in front of us. I plucked one of the glasses off the tray with a thank-you, and Jemma and Wyatt did the same. Theo—wearing a purple jumpsuit under a black blazer—let out a sigh but didn’t comment on being left out.
“We find Minnie and get her to tell us if she has an alibi for the murder,” Theo said as we made our way deeper into the gallery hosting the art exhibition.
Minnie was one of three artists being featured at the event, and we were far from the first attendees to arrive.
I searched the sea of bodies around us. “Easier said than done.”
“Let’s split up,” Theo suggested.
A crafty smile appeared on Jemma’s face. “Good idea. Theo, you come with me. Em and Wyatt, you go that way.” She pointed to the left with a red nail that matched her bodycon dress. Then she strode off in the opposite direction, Theo following her.
“Subtle,” I said to their retreating backs.
I took a gulp of champagne and walked off to the left, trying not to look at Wyatt too much, even though his presence at my side was like a powerful magnet.
He wore a charcoal three-piece suit with a midnight blue tie, and Wyatt in a waistcoat wasn’t a sight I’d been prepared for.
Fortunately, we hadn’t found ourselves alone, until now.
Well, we were as alone as we could be in a crowd of champagne-drinking art lovers, which definitely wasn’t alone enough for blazing hot kisses and tearing each other’s clothes off.
Not that I was thinking about either of those things.
Nope.
Not at all.
I took another gulp of champagne, leaving me with no more than a sip or two in the bottom of my glass.
I zeroed in on a petite, dark-haired woman in a black dress.
Not Minnie after all.
I was about to keep walking when Wyatt put a hand to my arm and tugged me gently off to the side. I moved with him, behind a large metal sculpture and into a shadowy alcove.
“Oh,” I said when I realized we had a modicum of privacy. My fingers itched to reach for the buttons on his waistcoat, so I gripped my champagne flute more tightly and curled my free hand into a fist.
“Sorry.” Wyatt’s fingers ghosted down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
When his hand reached mine, my fist unfurled and our fingers twined together. My blood buzzed and my head spun. Neither had anything to do with the champagne.
His ember-hot gaze sent sparks of heat simmering along my skin.
“You look incredible.” The way he said that with both his words and his eyes allowed me to believe that he was speaking the truth.
“Thank you. You do too.”
My heart gave a little leap, as if it were trying to get closer to his.
I’d told Jemma that Wyatt and I had only a physical connection, not an emotional one.
That wasn’t the case anymore. Not since our talk outside the warehouse.
There was so much to this man beyond money and ridiculously good looks.
I wanted desperately to kiss him, but it wasn’t the time or place. We didn’t have nearly enough privacy for the way I wanted to kiss him.
I caught sight of Jemma and Theo across the room.
When Jemma spotted us, she waved me over with an urgency that quickened my pace.
I slipped around a group of people who were admiring a six-foot-tall oil painting and joined my friends.
Wyatt followed right behind me. I could sense him there, even without looking over my shoulder.
“Code Thor!” Theo said under her breath before I could ask what was up.
This time I heard her correctly. I followed her line of sight and spotted Detective Callahan across the room. As if he sensed our eyes on him, he turned and focused his laser-like blue gaze on us. He stared at us for a long moment before disappearing into the adjoining room.
“Why is he here?” I asked with a quiver of anxiety.
“Keeping an eye on his suspects, probably,” Wyatt said.
“Mr. Nagy’s not here. Neither is Hoffman. That leaves Emersyn,” Theo so helpfully pointed out.
“I’m doomed.” I downed the last of my champagne and placed the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray.
Wyatt did the same with his. Jemma, who’d already ditched her empty glass at some point, grabbed a full flute before the waiter disappeared into the crowd.
“We’ve got your back,” she assured me before taking a sip of champagne.
Her promise did nothing to stop my knees from quaking as Detective Callahan walked over my way.