as she began to move, he grabbed her by the arm. His grip was tight enough to be painful.
Before she could react, he stepped up close, his voice a growl. “You call him off.”
“What? Let go of me.” Had he lost his mind?
“That pit bull of a junkyard dog—”
Suddenly, Reed appeared. He grabbed a handful of Quentin’s shirtfront and pushed him backward ten full paces, slamming him into the wall.
“Reed,” Katrina gasped.
“Did you think I was bluffing?” Reed demanded in a harsh voice that carried. “Did you?”
Quentin’s mouth moved, but no sounds came out.
Katrina moved swiftly toward them, praying nobody else was paying attention. “Reed, stop.” She could handle this herself, discreetly and quietly. The last thing in the world Liberty Ballet needed was a sordid scene played out in full view of their donors.
But he only pushed Quentin harder against the wall. “I meant every word I said.”
Quentin gasped for breath.
“Let him go,” Katrina begged, glancing around.
Instead, Reed pointed a stiff finger close to Quentin’s nose. “Every word.”
“Security!” somebody called out from behind her.
Katrina groaned in mortification.
Quentin managed a pained but triumphant smile. “Better let me go.”
“It’ll take them at least five minutes to get here,” Reed warned. “I can do a lot of damage in five minutes.”
“You’ll go to jail,” Quentin wheezed.
“Do I look like I care?”
“Reed,” Katrina pleaded, her panic growing.
He glanced her way. “You don’t need to see this.”
“Everybody’s seeing this.”
He turned back to Quentin, his enunciation slow and deliberate. “What’s it going to be?”
The two men glared daggers at each other.
Finally, Quentin glanced away, giving a tight nod of acquiescence.
Reed abruptly let him go, stepping back just as the security guards came into view. Reed backed off farther, straightening his jacket. Then he turned and walked casually toward her, while Katrina stared at him in abject horror.
She felt dozens of pairs of eyes come to rest on her. This story was going to race through the dance world like wildfire. Katrina would be a laughingstock. Whatever Quentin might have done to try to harm her career, Reed had outdone the effort and then some.
Reed stopped in front of her, and she felt her eyes sting with mortification. She didn’t say a word, but dashed blindly for the exit. Ignoring the curious and pitying stares of the other guests, she made her long and painful way to the foyer.
Once there, she went directly to the elevators.
Reed was right behind her. “Katrina, I’m sorry you had to—”
“You’re sorry?” She gasped for breath, barely finding her voice. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “You think sorry cuts it?”
“He had it coming.”
“It was a party, Reed. A civilized party.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“At a civilized gathering, you can’t just beat people up because they annoy you.”
Reed stepped closer, his voice low but no less menacing. “He tried to hurt you. He did hurt you. He sabotaged your shoe.”
“We’ve been through that. It doesn’t make sense.” She wasn’t going to let the fear in.
“It makes perfect sense. Elizabeth said the board replaced every pair of your shoes.”
“So what?”
“It was a board decision. Foster tampered with the others and—”
“Stop right there. He’s an opportunistic jerk, but that’s it. And I could have handled it myself.”
“You shouldn’t have to handle it.”
“Why? Because you fix things?”
“Because he doesn’t get to do that to you. Nobody does. I confronted him. I warned him. And he ignored me.”
“Did he confess?”
“No. But I looked him in the eyes—”
“And you shook his hand? And you’re such an oracle when it comes to judging people that you felt entitled to try and convict him without a shred of evidence?”
“He did it, Katrina.”
She closed her eyes and counted to five. There was a broader point.
“This isn’t Colorado, Reed.”
He coughed out a laugh. “No kidding.”
“Can you at least take this seriously?”
“I am taking this seriously.”
She poked a finger against his chest. “This isn’t the Wild West.”
Reed didn’t answer, simply set his jaw.
“You threatened to hurt him,” she accused.
“I did not.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“I heard you.” There was no other explanation.
A beat went past, and then another, before Reed finally spoke. “I didn’t threaten to hurt him. I threatened to kill him.”
Katrina staggered back.
She couldn’t have heard right. Reed had seemed so urbane these past few days, so civilized. He knew how to order a good wine. He was intelligent, well-read. He could make small talk with just about anyone. But it was all a facade.
“So, that’s it?” she croaked through an aching throat, more to