Page 72 of A Love Most Fatal

“Nice to meet you,” I say, and shake his hand too.

“And who’s your date?” Donna asks. Her head is tilted and, Christ, there’s a spark of recognition in her eyes, too.

Wait,date?

“This is Nathaniel Gilbert. He’s recently joined our team as a financial planner. Very talented.”

“Gilbert!” Donna snaps her finger. “I thought I knew you; do you teach at Isles Prep?”

I freeze, not sure how to traverse this territory when Vanessa just introduced me as a financial advisor.

Her son.

I taught her youngest son my first year at the school, before Greg was mayor.

“He does,” Vanessa says and squeezes my bicep. Vanessa is touching my arm, telling them that I am a lowly middle school teacher, and not correcting them that I’m her date? “So generous of him, right? Quite the time commitment for someone who already works so hard on his own endeavors.”

“It’s a pleasure to do it,” I say when her nails dig into the soft part of my arm. “I remember your son, sharp kid.”

I do not remember much of her son; I can sort of picture his face, but I cannot recall his name for the life of me. I’m not one of those teachers who memorizes every face and keeps them in their heart for the rest of their days.

“What’s a teacher doing consulting on company finances?” McGowan asks.

I sense that he is the kind of sour man who is never pleased. And he has something against Vanessa, he looks at her as if staring down his nose, though she is three inches taller than him.

“The finances come first,” I explain. “I just love to teach.”

“That is quite the service,” Mayor Greg says. He holds his glass up almost as if to toast me. “This city needs great teachers.”

I’m sure he’s said this to every teacher he’s met since becoming a politician, but yeah, it works. I’d vote for him in the next election after that.

“Needs quality buildings, too,” he adds for Vanessa’s benefit. “Thank you again for all the beautiful work you do in this city, Ms. Morelli.”

“Of course. And maybe one day Mr. McGowan will let us build one for him.” She says this with a cheeky smile on her face. “We’ll let you get back to your socializing. Do come for dinner soon. We would love to have you.”

Greg’s eyes show a flash of apprehension at this, but he and his wife both agree. If Donna knows about Vanessa’s true position, she doesn’t show it.

Vanessa guides us towards the table Mary and Leo are already seated at. I’d guess they’re not ones to socialize much at functions like this, though they both clean up perfectly well. Leo did my hair and it does in fact look way nicer than anything I could have managed.

“You really do look beautiful,” I tell her.

The crimson dress has a high neck but a low back, so low that if I touched her back at all I’d be smoothing my fingers across her skin. Her hair is straight down her back, shiny and sleek like it’s never been frizzy, not even on the most humid day.

“Beautiful for a monster?” she says, and I gulp.

I don’t know how to tell her she’s the most beautiful woman, monster or not, that I’ve ever seen, and with every day that passes in her presence, I’m increasingly certain that there’s hardly a bad or cruel or monstrous thing about her.

We’ve arrived at the table before I can say anything too excruciating, and Leo starts reporting on who is here and whois yet to arrive. Some of the last names I recognize from the interviews, others I’ve never heard of.

“And these are all crime families?” I ask. How much organized crime can one city have and still stand?

“You could call them that,” Mary mutters.

“Garza wants to speak with you,” Leo says. “Alone.”

Vanessa’s mask is immovable, but I see her chest rise and fall with a sigh. “Let’s get this over with, then. Mary, I need you to talk with Orlov.”

“What? Why?” Mary says in a rare display of unease.