I held my breath and looked up at the guard blocking my path. Dark eyes, steady. He was easily over six foot six.
Switching to French—before he could ask for ID—I snapped, 'Go and find my driver.
The idiot forgot to bring me my clutch.'
Chin high, I met his stare like he was no one. 'Bring him to me,' I said.
He looked me over from head to toe. I planted a hand on my hip, chin high, every movement edged with pride, and waited.
He drew a slow breath, raised his radio to his mouth, and said in deep, flat French, 'Find the lady's driver…'
He looked to me for the name. I gave it, bored and curt. 'Sophie Marchand.'
The guard turned away and spoke into the mic with authority. 'Locate the driver for Ms Sophie Marchand.'
severin crackled in my ear—apparently still chewing that damned sandwich. 'Mmm… the bread's actually fresh.'
My teeth ground together. I dropped my gaze to the stones so they wouldn't catch the flash of anger in my eyes.
His voice again: 'Mmm… got their security contractor. See an eagle-and-triangle crest on the jackets?'
I dragged my eyes up to the guard's tailored black suit. He was right—over the left breast, a silver shield with an eagle and a triangle was stamped into the fabric.
The guard lowered his hand from his ear, frowning. 'We didn't find your driver, Madame. Please show your invitation.'
My heartbeat plummeted. I blinked, forced a crooked smile, then spun to scan the entrance. In French, I muttered, 'That idiot… I'm firing him after tonight.'
I snapped back to the man and growled, 'My invitation is in my clutch—and the fool forgot to bring it.'
severin again, maddeningly patient: 'I asked if the crest is on their uniforms.'
I shut my eyes for a second, fury shaking in my bones. If he were here, I'd forget the mission and put a bullet between his eyes. I never should've trusted him. He didn't take anything seriously. He broke everything he touched.
The guard's mouth opened, and I cut in, bright and sudden: 'Oh—I know that emblem.'
I lifted a hand, tapped his chest where the silver shield sat. 'Eagle and triangle… My father worked with your security firm.'
My imaginary father, anyway.
Really, I was talking to severin—hoping he heard me and had finished his part.
He whistled softly in my ear. I clenched my hands so hard I worried I'd rip off a fake nail. They still hadn't fully grown back; months since the Triad Union's 'sessions', and my nails still weren't the same.
I forced my fists to loosen and fanned myself with my palm. The lead guard signalled to his partner, who stepped closer. They'd sensed something off.
The tall one rumbled, 'Madame, we need your invitation. If you don't have it, we can check the guest list.'
The second—head shaven clean, a long scar visible beneath his mask—tilted an iPad towards the first. The taller guard squared his shoulders. 'I'll check your name.'
My heart slammed against my ribs. Please tell me severin fixed the mess he made. My breaths came short. Golden chandelier light cut across their masks, throwing their faces into something wolfish.
I slid my right hand behind my back and curled it into a fist, coaxing the sleeve knife hidden under my fur to slip into my palm. The moment I felt the cold edge, I held my breath—ready. The guard's eyes flicked down the list, and time dragged like wet concrete. In my head, I tested a dozen ways to torture severin Hale for this screw-up.
His voice purred in my ear: 'Mmm… want me to put you on the VIP list?'
Heat flashed up my neck. I wanted to open my mouth and drown him in profanity, but not here. Not now.
Cold sweat gathered at the small of my back. The guard's expression hardened; he lowered the iPad, pinning me with a stare. 'Your name isn't on the list, Madame.'
It felt like someone set my hair on fire. If severin were standing in front of me, I'd tear him apart.