The Other Side of Greed (The Seven Sins #5) - Lily Zante Page 0,62

and won’t have a bad word said against him. But I wonder, all the same, especially since he was sitting at my desk and looking as if he was pretending to be the boss.

We spend the evening enjoying the fine hospitality at city hall. Soft music plays in the background and everyone is dressed up. It’s a rare night out for us and the other employees from work whom we eventually locate and hang around with for a while.

Fredrich is working the room. He’s good at this. He’s confident, and with his huge frame he stands shoulders above everyone. People seem to notice him, and he seems to bask in that sense of acknowledgment.

I’m by myself when a tall woman comes up to me. She’s dressed beautifully in a long stylish black and gold dress and a chunky gold necklace with it. Her legs seem to go on forever. It’s easy to tower over me, and even in my heels, I feel like a Hobbit standing next to her. “Are you Kyra Lewis?” she asks.

“I am. And you are?”

“Jessica Montrose. I own the Montrose Art Gallery in town. You might have heard of it?” She doesn’t offer her hand. I don’t offer mine.

“It doesn’t ring a bell.” I shake my head. I have never heard of the gallery, and I haven’t met her before.

“You’re the one who runs that …” She clicks her perfectly manicured fingers together. “That place where you make bags and jackets, and you employ people off the streets.”

“We give people a chance to get their lives back on track,” I clarify.

“You’re always in the papers,” she says, as if this annoys her.

“I try not to be.” I smile back but don’t know what to say. She seems friendly, but I can sense her judging me. It’s not her words, but her eyes that give it away.

“You’ve made such progress, given how young you are, and … and … what you do. It’s astounding.” She rakes her hand through her mane of glossy dark curls.

“Thank you.” I should ask her something about her gallery, but I know nothing about it, or her, and I can’t make polite conversation. I give her another smile, then look around and pray that Fredrich or Simona, or the others, will rescue me. When my gaze circles back, she’s still here. I catch her checking me out, her eyes slowly going over my outfit.

Something is off. Because when people approach me, it’s because they know about Redhill and they love what we do. They are interested in finding out more. “What was the name of your art gallery again?” I ask her, and when she tells me, it still doesn’t ring a bell. And yet I have the distinct impression that she seems to know of me.

“How is business?” she asks, but her eyes are dead and it seems as if she’s just going through the motions of being sociable.

“It’s … good. Business is good Why do you ask?” Someone like her would have no interest in someone like me, or in Redhill, and I know my donors. There are definitely no art gallery owners on that list as far as I can recall.

A sudden cheer bursts in the crowd and the sound of people clapping makes us both turn. Elias walks into the room, hand in hand with Harper. While everyone is staring at Elias, she catches my eye and waves at me. I wave back and silently pray for her to come and rescue me but, to my dismay, she and Elias walk to the front of the room.

There’s a short speech by someone, the party organizer, I think, and then the music starts up again and everyone starts talking again. In dismay, I see that the art gallery woman is still stuck to my side. Stuck for conversation I start to talk about the thunderstorms we had a few weeks ago. These are desperate measures, talking about the weather. I have nothing in common with her, not that commonality is the only vital ingredient in two people being able to connect. The woman gives off strange vibes and I feel on edge around her.

“Kyra!” Someone taps me on the shoulder. I’m shocked to find that it’s Elias and Harper. Shocked, because they’ve come directly to me.

Thank the lord.

“Hey,” I say, overwhelmed and relieved. “You did awesome!” I bump fists with Elias, because it seems less formal than a polite nod, and as much as I’m super excited, throwing my