The municipal security project bidding reception was held on the top floor of the Weston Hotel.
The ballroom was filled with glittering gowns and sharp suits.
Harvey, dressed in a tailored suit, was holding a glass of champagne, chatting and laughing with a circle of business contacts. Charlotte, in a striking red dress, clung to his arm as his "special assistant", her face radiating confidence that the project was already in the bag.
When he saw me walk in, all the ease on Harvey's face evaporated. He set down his glass and strode over, his voice low and accusatory. "Yvonne, can't you pick your moments? Are you stalking me now? This is a multimillion-dollar government bidding event, not somewhere a bookworm like you should be. Don't embarrass yourself here. Go home—we'll talk later."
