Chapter 3 - The Man With the White Gloves
The engagement gala was supposed to announce Luca and Celeste's wedding date.
Three hundred invitations.
Politicians.
Judges.
Business owners.
People whose names appeared on hospitals and universities.
Elara had been working since six that morning.
Around seven thirty that evening, she noticed the first strange thing.
A server wearing white gloves.
Valenti staff never wore white gloves.
Mrs. Bell hated them.
“Looks like a funeral home,” she always said.
Elara approached him.
“Which company are you with?”
The man smiled.
“Temporary staff.”
“Which company?”
His smile tightened.
“Marconi Events.”
Elara knew Marconi Events.
They supplied twelve workers that evening.
She had checked every name personally.
He wasn't one of them.
“Wait here.”
She turned toward Ronan.
Someone grabbed her arm.
Celeste.
“Where are you going?”
“I need security.”
“For what?”
“A staffing problem.”
Celeste's fingers tightened.
“Tonight is my engagement gala. Handle it without embarrassing me.”
Elara looked down at Celeste's hand.
“Let go.”
Celeste released her.
By the time Elara looked back, the stranger was gone.
Ten minutes later, she saw him again.
Near Luca.
He wasn't carrying food.
He carried a silver coffee pot.
Elara watched him pour espresso into one cup.
Then she saw something else.
His left hand slipped beneath the serving cloth.
Two seconds.
Maybe three.
Then it returned.
Elara started forward.
Celeste stepped directly into her path.
“Where do you think you're going?”
“Move.”
“Excuse me?”
“Celeste, move.”
The use of her first name did it.
Celeste grabbed a champagne flute from a passing tray.
“You need to remember who you are.”
Elara tried moving around her.
Celeste threw the champagne.
Gasps filled the ballroom.
Elara froze.
Not because of humiliation.
Because over Celeste's shoulder, she saw the white-gloved server place the espresso beside Luca.
And Luca reached for it.
May you like
“Don't drink that glass.”
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