The plan I had made of being a perfect guest was short-lived.
By the time I made it inside, I had talked myself down again, slumping my shoulders and trying to hide away.
The entire room and entrance were as grand as the people inside—rich men who didn’t bother to look my way, unless they were creepily checking me out, and women who scowled when I approached their group, trying to insert myself into their conversations.
I didn’t actually know anyone enough to start a private conversation, and I couldn’t think of one thing I had in common enough to talk about with these strangers.
How ironic that I had started to get out of the house more, only to have even less to talk about with people. A conversation about a game of tennis they had played over the weekend felt a little different from one about my stalker, who I seemed to have a crush on, taking me out on his bike.
I made my way to the table with the two seats reserved for me and my dad. The table was already half full, and I smiled at the others as I took a seat. They gave tight smiles back, but no one introduced themselves.
This was hell.
And further proof that my dad could be right. Maybe I couldn’t handle taking over the business. He dealt with more powerful men than the ones at this table, and I couldn’t even handle this.
“Are you here alone?” the guy across from me asked.
“Yes,” I said, trying to straighten up. “Cameron Fletcher, my dad, was supposed to be here with me tonight.”
The made grumbled something I couldn’t understand and rolled his eyes.
“So he threw some lipstick on his daughter to parade around and thought that would keep them happy?” he asked with a grunting laugh. “People were expecting him tonight and they won’t appreciate a stand-in.”
“What a rude way to talk to the woman who could ruin your life, Williams,” someone said, the voice dripping with menace. “I suggest apologizing before she lets it slip what you do on Thursday nights with all the money you skim off the top from your department.”
Williams’ nostrils flared as he looked past me. I turned back, meeting Rook’s eyes. The playful glint in them made mesuppress a smile. My eyes raked over him, the cut black suit making him fit in just enough besides that tattoos covering his hands and peaking out from his collar.
“Is this seat taken?” Rook asked, his tone suddenly casual, as if he hadn’t just threatened to possibly ruin this man’s life somehow.
“No,” I managed to say, my heart racing.
Williams still hadn’t said anything, and apparently, Rook wasn’t happy with that. “Did you hear me?” he asked, pulling out his chair. The black suit making it impossible to stop staring as he sat down next to me.
“Sorry, Ms. Fletcher. It was more of a joke, but my apologies.”
“It wasn’t a joke,” Rook said bluntly, his tone ice-cold. “And even if it was, she’s not the brunt of any joke.”
“I am sorry. I hope there won’t be any issue with you saying anything?”
“If you would leave us alone, I’ll keep my mouth shut,” I said, feeling brave with Rook next to me.
“I’m going to go get a drink,” Williams said, shuffling away fast and taking his still-full cup with him.
“What is going on?” I hissed as Rook leaned closer. “What are you doing here? And more importantly, where does he go on Thursdays?”
Rook smiled, his face softer now. “He takes money from government accounts and goes to the strip club. Barely a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but enough to possibly get him fired. I knew it would scare him off.”
I stifled a laugh, pressing against his arm for a second. “And you being here?”
“Someone told me you showed up alone and didn’t look pleased about it.”
I looked around, trying to see anyone that could be here with Rook. “You have someone watching me?”
“I work with over half of this room, Regan. A hundred dollars and I could get a list of everyone here in minutes. You already know I’ve been following you. Is this surprising?”
“I guess not. So you’re a criminal and work with tons of the upstanding people here? How?”
He took a sip of my drink, cocking an eyebrow at the fruity cocktail before taking another sip. “They are glorified criminals. They basically all do the same things I do, but they pay other people to actually get the blood on their hands.”