The mermaid tail of my dress swishes along wooden floorboards when I follow Julian through a packed ballroom. We received a last-minute invitation to the extravagance when I bumped into Mr. McGee last Thursday. He arrived at my office somewhat unexpectedly. It isn’t unusual for government officials to do drop-in visits, but it’s usually announced to the hierarchies before it occurs to ensure they’re not left red-faced.
Mercifully, Leo, my boss, is always on the ball. He handled the Governor’s visit without the slightest drop of sweat beading on his brow. Some would say his gall was compliments to years on the job. Others would say it’s because he classes himself as an equal of Mr. McGee’s. I say it’s because he knew I wouldn’t log out a classified file unless it were important.
Although I’ll never have proof, I’m confident Marjorie Hawke’s file was what Mr. McGee’s visit was about. I followed the rules when Brandon requested her file. I logged its transfer into the database mainframe, doctored out anything deemed confidential, then couriered it to his branch at Ravenshoe via the private security firm our office generally uses. Protocol was followed, yet Mr. McGee believed additional scrutiny was needed.
When I pushed him on why such an insignificant case was being treated as if it held national secrets, I received an invitation to an event instead of a reason. Don’t misconstrue my comment, I’m sure Marjorie’s death was devastating for her husband and family, but for a governor to make a personal visit to the District Attorney’s Office to demand an explanation seemed a little puerile to me.
Although unease was the first emotion I felt upon receiving Mr. McGee’s invitation, inquisitiveness soon took over. I’m reasonably sure his agenda was to assert his importance, hoping it would have me falling into line, but I used his invitation with the hope of expanding both personal and work contacts.
Today’s guest list is filled with the who’s who of New York. The number of influential people in the one room has had Mr. McGee prancing around like a peacock all night. Despite all of that, for the most part, I’ve enjoyed myself. Julian is in his element. He’s in awe of every person in the room, completely unaware they’re eyeing him with an equal amount of admiration.
Money will never be an issue for Julian. His family has enough to last them decades into the future, but Julian doesn’t see his family’s success as his own. To him, he’s just a humble audiologist. To people in this room, he’s the billionaire mogul they’re dying to sink their hooks into.
Perhaps that’s why Mr. McGee invited us tonight? He loves showboating, so adding a recent Forbes 500 man onto his guest list seems like the smart thing to do. A politician is forever in campaign mode. I’m doubtful tonight is the first time Mr. McGee has approached a billionaire with the hope of a generous endorsement check. He’s so unscrupulous, I wouldn’t put it past him to approach the shady billionaires our office is frequently chasing for campaign funds. As long as their pockets are deep, he doesn’t care who he rubs shoulders with.
I’m drawn from my thoughts when Julian stops in front of a beautiful raven-haired woman with kind eyes and glossy red lips. “Katarina, I thought that was you.” Julian places a kiss on Katarina’s cheek before tugging me closer to the dynamic duo. Although there are twenty or more years between their ages, they have a unique spark. “This is my fiancée I was telling you about. Melody, please meet Katarina Rouse.”
My heart pumps out an extra flutter when he mentions Katarina’s surname. “You’re on the board of Julian’s charity. He talks about you all the time.” I offer her my hand to shake, smitten to meet the woman Julian talks about often. Julian is extremely close to his mother, but she barely gets a mention when he gushes about the charity work Ms. Rouse does. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Hi.” Katarina appears more shocked than me like I’m one of the big celebrities sending the paparazzi into a tailspin. I find out why she’s eyeing me with star-filled eyes when she asks, “Have we met before?”
I twist my lips. “I don’t think so.” I run my hand down Julian’s forearm. “I’ve wanted to volunteer with Julian, but life is hectic.”
Katarina smiles. It’s as adorable as her face, which isn’t holding many wrinkles considering her age,