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“Mr. Stanley?” she asks.

“Yes, please.” He takes one.

Only then do I notice the two empties at his place. Uh-oh…

I take a sip. It’s even more delicious than the bubbly in the car. It’s a little scary how easily it goes down. I make a mental note to pace myself.

Mr. Stanley is talking. I don’t know what he’s saying, nor do I care. I just smile and nod, taking a small sip of champagne every now and then.

The ballroom fills around us. Guests drift from cocktail clusters toward their tables. People laugh, clink glasses.

I should be dazzled.

Part of me is.

I glance toward the entrance for the third time.

No Nathaniel.

Not that I care.

I don’t.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Mr. Stanley asks.

I turn back to him. “Very much.”

“Good.” He leans closer. “A young woman should enjoy a night like this.”

I tighten my fingers around the stem of my glass. “Yes.”

“I can make it especially enjoyable for you,” he says, his voice almost a growl.

Chills—not the good kind—surge through me. “Please excuse me for a moment. I need to use the ladies’ room.” I push back my chair.

But before I rise, a voice comes over the speakers at the front of the ballroom.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please begin taking your seats, our first course will be served shortly.”

Crap.

Of course the universe would choose this exact moment to cut off my only dignified exit.

Around us, people begin moving toward their tables.

Mr. Stanley looks at me with smug amusement.

I settle back into my chair.

Mr. Stanley leans closer to me. “The food is always great at the Vexley gala.” He winks. “I hope you have a good appetite.”

I swallow down nausea. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

Arthur Vexley arrives. A few people I don’t recognize.

And then⁠—

The air changes.