“What does that have to do with me?”
“Because there’ll be functions, there’ll be dinners, and I want my other half there with me.”
She gave him a tired look. “You spend most of the time hiding that part of your life from me, Leo, and now I’m supposed to be meeting these people?”
“How is it any different than the club?” he asked calmly. “You integrated within that community for Hunter…” his words trailed off.
She crossed her arms, growing silent, thoughtful.
He let out a long breath, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have some people stationed at the door. If you want to go out, let them follow—”
“I’ll go,” she cut in. “Tell me what I have to do.”
He cut the distance between them, stopping before her. His hand ran down her bare arm. “Just be you.”
She gave him a doubtful look. “I don’t fit in, Leo.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“I’m weird.”
“I love it.”
“And I probably won’t talk.”
“And that’s okay.”
“What should I wear?”
He led her to the closet and shuffled through her clothes. He found a yellow wrap dress she’d recently bought at one of the stalls. He paired it with white sandals. As she changed, he quickly sent Shane a text, needing to know everything about the Galloways.
Shane responded straightaway.
*
Carl Galloway came from old money.
His ties to the High Table weren’t particularly relevant, but he was still a contact within the community, used for barters and currency accounts.
The man was seriously disconnected. His bride, too, was old money. Ellen Galloway had the bolt on tits, the long done-up dark hair. She had so much work done on her face, Leo couldn’t look at her for longer than a few seconds. Not that she minded. Akin to a mannequin, she sat still the entire time, like she was too afraid to send a hair flying out of place.
Together, their ignorance was like a blaring red light you couldn’t shirk from.
Skye sat rigidly next to him with her hands folded together. She glanced around the restaurant, taking in the overdone splendour. When she caught Ellen’s eye, she smiled politely at the plastic wife, but Ellen didn’t smile back—or maybe her muscles weren’t working.
But her eyes were.
And said eyes were looking over Skye with detached interest.
“How’s your father?” Carl asked after they had ordered their appetizers. “I’ve been meaning to speak to him.”
Leo’s eyes were still on Skye when he answered, “He’s been busy.”
“Is he still offering coin?”
“Gold.”
“How’s business?”