Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Walked Through the Brass Doors
At 8:17 Friday evening, Julian checked his watch.
“She’s late.”
Damon stood beneath a chandelier in the Grand Solstice Hotel ballroom.
“Seventeen minutes isn’t late.”
“For your secretary? It’s practically rebellion.”
Damon took a champagne flute from a passing waiter.
The gala was exactly what Vivian had expected.
Politicians pretended not to recognize criminals.
Criminals pretended to be businessmen.
And everyone pretended the Solstice Gala was a charity dinner.
Julian smirked.
“Twenty bucks says she shows up in a cardigan.”
Damon said nothing.
The brass doors opened.
Conversation died in pieces.
Not all at once.
First, the men closest to the entrance stopped talking.
Then their wives turned.
Then several younger men straightened.
Finally, Julian followed their gaze.
“Oh.”
Damon turned.
The champagne flute slipped from his fingers.
It shattered on the marble floor.
Vivian Marsh stood in the doorway.
Her dress was black, elegant, and devastatingly simple. Nothing vulgar. Nothing excessive. Her hair fell in dark waves rather than the tight office clip Damon had seen every day for three years.
But the dress wasn’t what silenced the room.
It was her expression.
Vivian wasn’t nervous.
She wasn’t impressed.
She looked around the ballroom as if she already knew exactly who everyone was.
Because she did.
A waiter approached.
“Miss?”
“Sparkling water, please.”
Damon stared.
Julian whispered, “That’s Marsh?”
Vivian walked toward them.
Men stepped aside.
Not because they knew her.
Because confidence created its own gravity.
She stopped three feet from Damon.
“Mr. Cross.”
He said nothing.
Her eyebrow lifted.
“You invited me.”
“I did.”
“You appear surprised.”
Julian coughed into his fist.
Damon recovered.
“You look…”
Vivian waited.
For possibly the first time in his adult life, Damon Cross struggled to finish a sentence.
“…different.”
“No.”
Her answer was immediate.
“I look like myself.”
That landed harder than Damon expected.
Julian stepped forward.
“Vivian. Wow.”
She looked at him.
“Mr. Cross.”
“Julian.”
“I know.”
His smile weakened.
Vivian accepted her sparkling water.
“Thank you.”
Damon glanced around the room.
Everyone was still watching.
“People are staring.”
“They were supposed to.”
His eyes snapped back to hers.
Vivian took one sip.
“Wasn’t that the point?”
Julian went pale.
Damon’s jaw tightened.
“What do you mean?”
She gave him a calm smile.
“Nothing, Mr. Cross.”
Then a voice interrupted them.
“Well, this is interesting.”
Sebastian Moretti, head of the Moretti family, approached.
He was sixty, silver-haired, and one of the few men in Manhattan who spoke to Damon without fear.
“Damon.”
“Sebastian.”
Moretti looked at Vivian.
“And you are?”
“Vivian Marsh.”
Recognition appeared immediately.
“Marsh?”
Vivian nodded.
“You know the name?” Damon asked.
Sebastian’s expression changed.
“I knew a Marsh once.”
Vivian’s grip tightened almost imperceptibly around her glass.
“Did you?”
“Eleanor Marsh.”
Silence.
Damon looked between them.
Vivian answered quietly.
“My mother.”
Sebastian stared at her.
Then, astonishingly, he extended his hand.
Vivian took it.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
Sebastian hesitated.
“That is a longer conversation.”
Damon stepped closer.
“What conversation?”
Sebastian ignored him.
“You should ask your father’s old attorney about Eleanor.”
“My father is dead,” Damon said.
“I know.”
Sebastian’s eyes remained on Vivian.
“That doesn’t mean his secrets are.”
He walked away.
Vivian’s confidence remained intact, but Damon saw her breathing change.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Your mother knew Moretti?”
“Apparently.”
“You never mentioned her.”
“You never asked.”
Damon lowered his voice.
“Vivian.”
She met his gaze.
“Tonight was supposed to be funny, wasn’t it?”
He froze.
Across the room, Julian stopped smiling.
Vivian continued.
“You invited me because you expected me to embarrass myself.”
Damon could have lied.
Instead he said nothing.
“That’s what I thought.”
She placed her untouched drink on a tray.
“Enjoy your gala.”
Damon caught her wrist—not violently, but instinctively.
Vivian looked down at his hand.
Damon released her immediately.
“Wait.”
“Why?”
He had no answer.
Then the lights in the ballroom dimmed.
The gala chairman stepped onto the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats.”
Vivian looked toward the exit.
Damon looked toward the tables.
Then Sebastian Moretti called across the ballroom.
“Miss Marsh.”
Vivian turned.
Moretti pulled out the empty chair beside him.
“Sit with me.”
A murmur swept through the room.
Julian whispered, “That chair is for family.”
Sebastian heard him.
“I know exactly who the chair is for.”
Vivian looked at Damon.
May you like
And for the first time in three years, Damon Cross realized he knew absolutely nothing about the woman who knew everything about him.
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