Chapter 2 — The Man on Her Arm

Nora chose the emerald dress because she liked how she looked in it.

The silk followed the shape of her waist and hips. It fit across her shoulders without pulling. When she moved, she didn’t have to tug it into place.

The woman who had altered it had asked whether Nora wanted a wrap for the evening. Nora had said no. Now, standing before her bedroom mirror, she was glad she had.

At six, Dante knocked.

He wore a black suit and an open expression that changed when he saw her.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

Nora smiled. “That sounded almost easy for you.”

“It was.”

In the car, she gave him one rule. “If my family is rude, let me answer them.”

“I remember.”

“If Evan asks why you’re there, I invited you.”

“I remember that too.”

She turned toward him. “You said you’d tell me what you found.”

“Calder Vale was involved in a port investment that went badly for my company. Evan worked on it.”

“What kind of investment?”

“A consortium bought a stake in a warehouse development after we lost a contract connected to it.”

“Did Evan cause you to lose the contract?”

“I don’t know.”

Nora watched the road ahead. “That’s a large detail to keep from me.”

“I checked the deal records this morning. I wanted to make sure I had the right firm.”

“You could have told me you were checking.”

“Yes,” he said. “I should have.”

She appreciated the answer. She also filed the omission away.

The estate had a long gravel drive, a stone entrance, and a lawn full of guests balancing drinks they had no place to set down. Nora could hear music from the reception hall when they stepped out of the car.

At the doors, Dante offered his arm. She took it.

A few people turned as they entered. Then more did. Some recognized Dante; others followed their gaze. Nora kept walking toward the seating display without looking for her family.

Table eleven still held Evan’s colleagues. A new place card beside hers read

Dante Rinaldi

.

“Nora?”

She turned. Derek Walsh, a junior analyst she remembered from Calder Vale’s holiday parties, stood with a drink in each hand. His eyes moved over her dress.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said.

“Evidently Evan did. He picked my table.”

Derek gave a short laugh. “Still quick with a comeback.”

“You’ve only heard the first sentence.”

His attention shifted to Dante. Recognition spread across his face, and he nearly tipped one of the drinks.

“Mr. Rinaldi.”

“Mr. Walsh,” Dante said.

Derek stared at Nora again. “You two came together?”

“We did,” she said. “Are those both for you?”

“No. One’s for—” He looked across the room, searching for help. “Excuse me.”

As soon as he left, Nora took one of the empty place cards from a nearby table and turned it over.

“What are you doing?” Dante asked.

“Remembering who approaches us.”

She wrote Derek’s name on the back, along with the time, and slipped it into her bag.

“Is that how you handle parties?” he asked.

“Only when the host tries to make me part of the entertainment.”

She spotted her mother near the flowers at the head table. Beside her stood Tessa in an ivory reception gown. Evan had his hand at the small of Tessa’s back.

For a moment, Nora felt the old, humiliating sting of seeing them together. It didn’t help that her mother was smiling at them in exactly the way she used to smile at Nora and Evan.

Tessa saw her first. Her smile faltered, recovered, then faltered again when she recognized Dante.

Nora walked over before any of them could come to her.

“You made it,” her mother said. “I wasn’t sure.”

“I said I would.”

Her mother’s gaze moved to Dante.

“This is Dante Rinaldi,” Nora said. “Dante, my mother, Elaine. My sister, Tessa. And Evan.”

Dante greeted each of them. Evan shook his hand a little too quickly.

Tessa kissed Nora’s cheek. “Your dress is gorgeous.”

“Thank you. You look happy.”

“I am.”

Neither sister looked away. Tessa seemed about to say more, but Evan spoke first.

“Nora, I’m glad you came.” He glanced at Dante. “Both of you.”

“It was a kind invitation,” Nora said. “Especially the seating plan.”

Evan’s smile held. “I hear there was a mix-up.”

“Did you hear that from the person who made it?”

Elaine touched Nora’s elbow. “Can we please enjoy the evening?”

Nora stepped aside, letting her mother’s hand fall. “I intend to.”

She and Dante moved toward the terrace doors. Nora needed air and a minute to decide whether staying was worth it.

Outside, she leaned on the stone railing. Lights from the gardens showed in the windows behind them.

“You can leave,” Dante said.

“I know.”

“Good.”

Nora looked at him. “Evan knew who you were before I introduced you.”

“He’s seen me across a negotiating table.”

“About the port deal?”

“About a different one. Two years ago.”

“So when you said you might know someone at his firm, you meant him.”

“Yes.” Dante rested his hands on the railing. “He wasn’t the lead on that meeting. I didn’t think it mattered tonight.”

“I get to decide what matters to me.”

He faced her. “You do.”

Through the glass, Nora saw Evan cross the room toward a silver-haired man she recognized as a senior partner at Calder Vale. Evan said something close to the man’s ear. Both looked toward the terrace.

Nora took out her phone and made a note of the partner’s name.

When they returned inside, dinner had begun. Derek kept his comments to himself, though he spent much of the first course watching Dante.

Nora spoke to the woman on her other side, who worked in commercial insurance. They discussed a recent storm claim and discovered they both liked an unfashionable lunch place near Grand Central. It was the first pleasant conversation Nora had had all evening.

Dessert plates were being cleared when Evan stood to give his toast.

He thanked his parents, then Elaine. He told a story about Tessa losing a suitcase on their first trip together, carefully leaving out when that trip had taken place.

Nora kept her eyes on her coffee.

Then Evan raised his glass.

“My father taught me that reputation isn’t what people believe about you,” he said. “It’s what you make them afraid to question.”

Nora’s hand stopped against the cup.

She had written that sentence three years earlier, late one night in her office, as a warning in a confidential strategy memo. It described a tactic a hostile company might use. She had never published it. She had never said it to Evan.

Dante leaned closer. “Nora?”

“That line,” she whispered. “It’s mine.”

Across the room, Evan lowered his glass.

He was looking straight at her.