“It doesn’t matter where you are, it feels like they’re watching you, doesn’t it?” a deep male voice says beside me.
I turn to find Jace standing there. He doesn’t even need a tux; his high-end suit and wool overcoat fit the bill for a black tie affair.
“What are you doing here?”
His blue eyes gaze over the mingling crowd. “I was invited, remember?”
“Under the circumstances, I figured you’d decline.”
“Yeah, I know. But I thought I’d stop by on my way home from a work event. Pay my respects, in a way.” It does sort of feel like that’s what Jace is doing. He’s solemn tonight, and the way he’s standing with his hands clasped in front of a glass case—it reminds me of how people stand at gravesites.
“But after everything . . .”
His Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. “I’m sorry about how things ended for her. And for how I treated her that night.” His gaze dips down to my red-painted lips. “And for how I treated you.”
A shocked laugh escapes me. “I’m the one who owes you an apology. I accused you of murdering her.”
“Oh, yeah. You did.” A tiny smile curls his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is the witch hunt finally over?”
I sigh. “Not exactly, but you’re not the witch anymore. You were right about the super.” It stings to admit that.
He nods grimly. “I’m sorry that I was.” Awkward silence hangs between us. “Although I’m surprised he had it in him.”
“We’re still not exactly sure what he had in him, but he definitely looks guilty of a lot of things right now. They found Celine’s stolen vase in his apartment, at the very least. The cops are onto him now. They’re reopening her case.”
“The infamous vase.” He glances around. “Where is it? I’d love to see it.”
“In evidence” is all I say.
“Ah, yes. Of course.” A pause. “You’re not still staying in her apartment, are you?”
“No. I’m at a hotel now. I’m actually leaving for San Diego in the morning.”
“What about the super?”
“Don’t know. Looks like he ran the second he sensed that we were onto him. Left everything behind, including a lot of incriminating evidence.” As I say this, I realize something. Given what I put Jace through, I probably owe him a warning. “Listen, they’ve seized his computer, and it’s very likely they’re going to find that video of you and Celine on there.”
His eyes widen. “So he’s the one who tried to blackmail me.”
“Yeah. Most likely. I don’t think Celine had anything to do with it. And if it comes out, it wasn’t me who told them. I swear.”
He chews the inside of his mouth. “I guess I’ll just have to deal with that if and when it comes up then.” He sighs. “One way or another, I just hope this brings you and her mother the peace you need.”
“So do I.” Another lump is forming in my throat, and I take a sip of my champagne to keep it down. I really should stop drinking.
Jace’s eyes skate over my simple black gown. “You look stunning tonight.”
“Thanks.” I feel my cheeks flush. From the moment I first laid eyes on Jace, I was sizing him up for a crime. This is the first time I’m seeing him without outright animosity and suspicion. I’m seeing him as just a man. The man my best friend was pining over and banking all her future dreams on.
“In another time, and another place, I think this could have worked,” he says, and I know he’s not talking about our business relationship.
“If you stopped counting money.”
“And you stopped trying to save the world.”
In reality, Jace and I would mix together like oil and water, but it’s a nice amicable way of leaving things.
He does a quick scan of the room. “I’m going to head out now. I have an early flight in the morning, too.”
“Heading to Chicago?”
“For an entire two weeks. Can you believe it? First time ever, I think. But my mother’s birthday is just after Christmas. We have a big party planned.”
“Right. You need to give her that Ming bowl.”
He purses his lips tight, in a worried way. “Take care of yourself, Maggie. I hope we can wish only the best for each other.”
“Yes, definitely.”
He leans in to place a soft kiss on my cheek, and then Jace Everett is gone, out the door.
Out of my life.
I last another ten minutes and then head for the coat check to retrieve my stole—which is a ridiculous article of clothing to wear now that the temperatures have dropped to single digits—and leave. The entrance to the auction house is on a narrow side street, and while I know that cabs will make the turn down here every once in a while, I won’t last a minute in this cold standing still.
About fifty yards up, I spot Jace leaning against a sleek black car—presumably his—his phone pressed to his ear. He looks up, likely at the sound of my heels on a metal sidewalk grate. “Yeah . . . okay . . . listen, I’ll call tomorrow after I land . . . Okay. Talk to ya.” Hanging up, he stands. “Maggie, get in. I’ll give you a ride.”
“It’s only a few blocks away. I can grab a taxi.”
“Come on.” He opens the door rather abruptly. “Get in. I promise, my car smells way cleaner than any taxi.”
I’m relieved. On a night like this, with the holidays, it could take me time to hail a cab. “Thanks.” I climb in, tucking the hem of my dress under my legs, brushing fresh, fluffy flakes off the material. It’s pretty outside, the trees lining the street covered in snow and sparkling with tiny white lights. He shuts the door for me and then rounds the car quickly. “You’re right. It does smell better.” It smells like Jace’s cologne.
“See?” He presses the ignition button and the car comes alive. Cracking a bottle of water, he takes a sip. “Thirsty?”
“Yes, actually. I think I had a few too many glasses of champagne, and flying hungover all the way to San Diego is going to suck.”
“Here.” He pulls another bottle out from the console and twists the cap to open it before handing it to me. “So, do you think everything will sell tonight?”