Page 62 of After the Fall
My eyes glanced to the room and then back to the woman. “Do I know you?” There was a familiarity to her, but with the mask, the gown, and the dimly lit hallway, I couldn’t figure out who was standing in front of me. And I didn’t want to inadvertently lead anyone to Harper, especially with so many enemies under one roof.
She took a step closer, well into my personal space. It was the move of a confident woman. Her hair was jet black and parted in the middle. She laughed and tossed it over her shoulder, where it settled well past her ass. Her dress was made up of what appeared to be gold armor, and it hung over her body like scales. It must have weighed at least as much as the woman – likely more, she had a tiny frame. “Oh, Wyatt.” She rested her hand on my chest. “I can’t believe you don’t recognize me. You’re not fooling anyone with that mask.”
I narrowed my eyes, but still couldn’t place her. Instead of taking off her mask, she took off her hair. It was a wig, and beneath it, blond hair coiled into a bun. “Mrs. Carder. You’ll have to excuse me. I didn’t recognize you with the Cher hair.”
She laughed. “I was going for Cleopatra.”
“I see it now.” I put on a fake smile. “That’s quite the dress.” To be safe, I took a step back from the woman. Not only was she the very person we were investigating, but she was also a married woman. And the woman I loved was in the room behind me. The last thing I needed was another Valentina-type situation.
“It’s a little hard to dance in.” She tapped at one of the gold numbers with her diamond ring, then tilted her head. “What are you doing back here?”
“Just getting away from the crowd. I’m not really into group dance numbers, and I didn’t want to get dragged into that mess.”
“I don’t blame you. How pedestrian. I can’t believe the event coordinators didn’t clear that with me.” She bent to picksomething up from the ground. “Speaking of which, I see you didn’t get one of the grab bags.” She held out a matte black bag with gold-plated handles.
“I’m not really one for swag.” All I wanted to do was get the horny socialite out of the hallway so I could check on Harper, but she wasn’t picking up on my cues. I was walking a balance beam. I couldn’t be a total dick, but I also couldn’t be too friendly either. Mrs. Carder was the kind of woman who was used to getting her way, and the pheromones coming off her body told me that she wantedme.
Mrs. Carder took my hand in hers. “Take it. I really think there a few things in there you will enjoy.” She pulled her hand from mine and replaced it with the grab bag.
“Thank you. I’m sure if you chose the favors, they will be classy and provocative.”
Redness flooded her cheeks. She slipped the black wig back over her yellow hair, but didn’t move. “Look in it.” She nodded her head to the bag.
Fuck. She wasn’t going to let up on the damn bag. I cleared my throat and opened it. Everything was wrapped in glossy black paper and tied with red ribbon. She reached into the bag and pulled out a box the size of a big muffin. It wasn’t wrapped, and she pulled the lid off, exposing a black bottle inside. “It’s the gala’s signature scent. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it when you got here.” Ithadseemed strange that everyone smelled so similar.
“Here, take a—”
I grabbed the bottle from her hand before she could push on the spritzer. The last thing I wanted was to smell like I was on my way to a trashy night club. “Thank you, Mrs. Carder. I’m a little sensitive to fragrance.”
She stood on her toes and leaned in to smell me. She crinkled her nose and gave me a flirtatious grin. “You might want to rethink that.”
The armor of her dress clinked as she turned on her heels and sashayed back into the ballroom. I dropped the bottle into the bag, but lifted my arm to give my pit a good sniff. I didn’t particularly care if I was rank, but I needed to play the billionaire businessman role, and smelling like the forest floor after a heavy rainfall wouldn’t fit the profile.
I smelled fine. Shaking my head, I set the bag underneath a console table. Michelle Carder couldn’t be trusted and there was no way in hell I was spraying a substance on my body that could’ve been made in the Genocorp lab.
The realization hit me like a hundred-year fir tree falling in the forest. Was the perfume in everyone’s bag?
I had no time to follow up on that thought. Ensuring that Cleopatra wasn’t lurking in the hallway, I stepped close to door ten and inhaled, confirming what I already knew to be true. Harper was on the other side.
Taking a breath, I rested my hand on the handle for a moment, concentrating all of my energy on my hearing. There were voices behind the door, but they were so hushed I couldn’t make out any words. A waft of another scent struck me, something closer to my own than Harper’s.
She was in there with one of us.
THIRTY-ONE
HARPER
I hadn’t seenmy father in ten years – ten long, agonizing years that had hardened my heart.
I hated him for breaking our family apart and for leaving me alone to take care of Mom; for having to tell her over and over that he was really gone, that he wasn’t coming back.
Hate wasn’t a strong enough word. I despised the man.
And yet, there was still a small part of me that longed for a father figure.
I’d thought that my work with The Seattle Sun would bring my dad back into my life. Surely a front-page editorial featuring someone as prominent as Wyatt Westwood would lure him out of hiding. I’d told myself it was just to get answers, and that as soon as I got them, I could go back to hating him again. But everything changed the moment he appeared on Wyatt’s front porch. And now, the same creature that I’d unknowingly interviewed for The Seattle Sun stood before me, in the dark stairwell of an art gallery.
It was good that my heart was already shattered into a million pieces from Wyatt. I’m not sure it would handle the pain of seeing my dad as… one of them.