She walked through the house. The art on the walls was worth more than her entire lifetime earnings. But there were no photos, no family portraits. It was a house, not a home.
She entered the library. Ethan was standing by the window, talking on the phone. He held up a hand signaling her to wait.
“I don’t care what the union says, Marcus. If the numbers don’t add up, shut down the dock. We’ll talk about your oversight later.”
He hung up the phone and turned to Sarah. His face was like a thundercloud.
“You were right,” he said without preamble. “Marcus confessed. He claimed it was a gambling debt. He’s been relieved of his duties.”
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “It must be hard. He’s family.”
Ethan let out a short, bitter laugh. “Family is just a word for people who feel entitled to your money, Sarah. You’ll learn that quickly here.” He walked over to his desk and picked up a tablet. “Tonight is your first test in the field. There is a charity gala at the Museum of History. Everyone who matters in Seattle will be there. Investors, competitors, and the board of directors.”
“What do I have to do?” Sarah asked.
“Survive,” a female voice said from the doorway.
Sarah turned. Standing in the entrance was a woman who looked like she had walked off the cover of Vogue. She was tall, blonde, and devastatingly beautiful. She wore a red dress that fit her like a second skin. Her eyes were green, but they held no warmth.
“Hello, darling,” the woman said, walking past Sarah as if she were a piece of furniture and kissing Ethan on the cheek. Ethan didn’t kiss her back. He stiffened slightly.
“Sarah, this is Veronica Vance, my fiancée.”
Sarah’s stomach dropped. Fiancée. He hadn’t mentioned a fiancée.
“And you must be the new… help,” Veronica said, turning to look at Sarah with a look of pure disdain. She scanned Sarah from head to toe, lingering on the off-the-rack suit. “Quaint.”
“Sarah is my new executive assistant,” Ethan said firmly. “She will be accompanying us tonight.”
Veronica laughed. “Oh, Ethan, you can’t be serious. Look at her. She looks like a school teacher. She’ll be eaten alive by the sharks at the gala. Why don’t you let me hire a professional? I know a wonderful girl from the agency who speaks Mandarin and knows which fork to use.”
Sarah felt the heat rise in her cheeks. The old Sarah would have looked down. The waitress Sarah would have apologized. But she wasn’t a waitress anymore. She was the woman who caught Marcus Thorne stealing three million dollars.
“I know which fork to use, Miss Vance,” Sarah said, her voice calm. “I spent five years setting them. And unlike the people you know, I can tell you exactly who in the room is hungry and who is just pretending to eat.”
The room went silent. Veronica’s smile vanished. She looked at Sarah with a newfound sharpness.
“Feisty,” Veronica said, her voice icy. “I give her a week.”
“She’s staying,” Ethan said, stepping between them. “Go get changed, Sarah. The stylist brought some options to your room. We leave in an hour.”
Sarah nodded and left the room. But she could feel Veronica’s eyes drilling into her back.
Up in her room, which was larger than her old apartment, Sarah found a rack of dresses. They were incredible. Silks, satins, designer labels. She chose a black gown. It was simple, elegant, and modest, with long sleeves and a high neck, but the back plunged low. It was sophisticated. Armor.
She looked at herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized the woman staring back. Her hair was pulled up in a sleek bun. Her makeup was flawless.
“For Leo,” she whispered.
The drive to the gala was tense. Ethan sat on one side of the limousine, Veronica on the other. Sarah sat on the jump seat facing them.
“So, Sarah,” Veronica said, swirling her champagne. “Where did Ethan find you? Harvard Business School? Wharton?”
“The service industry,” Ethan answered for her.
Veronica choked on her drink. “You hired a waitress to manage your affairs, Ethan? Have you lost your mind? The board will laugh you out of the room.”
“The board is currently too busy covering up their own incompetence to laugh at anyone,” Ethan said. “Sarah sees things they don’t.”
“We’ll see,” Veronica muttered.
When they arrived at the gala, the flashbulbs were blinding. Sarah stepped out of the car, and for a moment, she panicked. The noise, the lights, the shouting reporters. Ethan’s hand touched the small of her back. It was a gentle, guiding pressure.
“Breathe,” he whispered in her ear. “They are just people, and most of them are idiots.”
They entered the grand hall. It was filled with people holding champagne flutes, wearing jewels that cost millions.
“Go,” Ethan said quietly. “Mingle. Listen. Tell me what you hear.”
Sarah separated from them. She took a glass of sparkling water—no lemon—and drifted through the crowd. She made herself invisible, a skill she had perfected as a server. She stood near groups of men in tuxedos, pretending to admire the exhibits while listening to their conversations.
“Sterling Stock is going to take a hit when the merger news breaks…”
“I heard he’s firing Thorne. Trouble in paradise…”
“Veronica is pushing for the vote next month. She wants the chairmanship…”
Sarah froze. Veronica wants the chairmanship. But she was his fiancée.
Sarah moved closer to a group of three men standing near a dinosaur exhibit. She recognized one of them. It was Mr. Henderson, her old manager from Le Jardin. He was serving drinks from a tray. She turned away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t see her. But she bumped right into a tall, heavyset man with a red face.
“Watch it!” the man snapped.
“I apologize,” Sarah said.
The man looked at her. “Wait a minute, I know you.”
Sarah’s heart stopped. It was one of the regulars from the restaurant. Mr. Coburn, a real estate tycoon who was known for pinching the waitresses.
“You’re the girl from Le Jardin,” Coburn said loudly. “The one with the sick kid. What are you doing here? Did you sneak in to beg for donations?”
People nearby turned to look. Veronica was standing ten feet away, a cruel smile playing on her lips. She had been waiting for this….
