greeted her. “Good evening. May I check your ticket, please?”
Liv opened her clutch purse and withdrew the invitation Derek had given her. Satisfied that she wasn’t a party crasher, the man smiled and opened the door for her. Liv was hit with the sudden swell of sound—laughter, conversation, clinking glasses, and music from the live oldies band. Twinkling chandeliers cast the room in a soft yellow glow, just low enough to perfectly catch the light of diamond earrings and a hundred sequined dresses. If rich people knew anything, it was how to take advantage of their surroundings.
Liv paused another moment to get her bearings. “I’m in,” she said, looking down so people wouldn’t notice her talking to herself. “Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Liv.”
Relief gave her confidence to walk, to enter the party, to paste a smile on her face. A waiter approached with a tray of champagne flutes. Liv accepted one with a quiet thanks and took a small sip. She didn’t really want it, but she feared she’d look out of place if she didn’t take it.
“Derek is sitting at a table for the city,” Noah said into her ear.
Liv studied the room, which was set up like a wedding. Round tables dotted one half of the room, where people in various levels of formal dress sat with plates of food and drinks. Some tables were reserved, with the names of sponsoring companies on placards high above the floral arrangements. She scanned each card until she found the one for the City of Nashville. Derek and his wife glanced nonchalantly in her direction but quickly looked away.
“I found him,” she responded.
“What about Royce?” Mack asked.
On the other side of the room was a long bar surrounded by tall cocktail tables for mingling. In the center was a dance floor that very few people were taking advantage of.
“I don’t see him yet,” she said softly.
“Look for the flash of cameras,” Mack answered. “That’ll be him.”
Liv smothered a snort of laughter behind the rim of her glass. Once again, she wished he were standing next to her instead of sitting in a van outside. She wanted his hand on her back, his strength and his warmth. She needed him, and the most amazing thing about that was that she wasn’t afraid to admit it. She needed him and didn’t mind. Was that what it meant to trust someone? Was this how it felt to trust someone?
A round of boisterous laughter from the bar brought her gaze around. A large group of people stood in a circle, fawning over someone who was eating up the attention and the adoration like a dry sponge under a faucet. It could only be Royce. Liv walked closer. The man turned, and her heart stopped. Royce. He tilted his head back to laugh at something a man said, and he patted the guy on the back all buddy-buddy-style. Then a woman asked for a picture, followed quickly by another.
Those people had no idea who he really was. What he was capable of. That behind that amiable facade was a monster.
“You can do this, Liv,” Mack said next. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”
His confidence became hers. Liv squared her shoulders, downed a large gulp of champagne, and stalked forward. She set down her glass on a cocktail table as she approached the group and tucked her purse under her arm. The group was reluctant to let a newcomer into their midst, but Liv finally squeezed through just enough to be seen. She waited for him to turn, to spot her. Her heart beat so loudly that they could probably hear it in the van.
Royce finally looked her way, and there was a split second of disbelief followed by a total lack of emotion. “Olivia,” he said, adopting that sickeningly fake voice of his. “What a surprise.”
“Hello, Royce.”
“You’re looking beautiful this evening,” he said smoothly.
She shrugged, aw shucks– like. “This old thing?”
Curious faces watched their exchange. One of the women standing next to Royce looked on with what could only be described as annoyance that an interloper had stolen his attention. Did the woman not even know Royce was married? Not that he ever let that stop him from engaging in a nighttime snack, but Jesus.
Liv extended her hand to the woman. “Liv Papandreas. I used to work at Savoy.”