“Not yet,” I said. “Let him think he has won for a few more minutes. I want him to say it to my face.”

I smoothed down the skirt of my emerald dress, took a deep breath, and walked out of the alcove back into the warm, noisy air of the ballroom.

The scent of expensive perfume, roasting meats, and champagne hung heavy under the high ceilings.

As we approached the bar, Adrian excused himself from his group and walked toward us, Serena trailing closely behind him.

“Claire,” Adrian said, his voice smooth and dripping with mock concern. “You look slightly pale. I hope everything is well on the waterfront.”

“The waterfront is fine, Adrian,” I said, keeping my voice level. “We are just managing the usual daily details.”

“Really?” Adrian asked, taking a slow sip from his glass. “I heard a rumor that the city inspectors are quite active down there today.”

“You seem very well-informed about the Chicago municipal schedule for someone based in Boston,” Julian observed.