Then I saw my opening. Like most other philanthropists, he liked to splash his money around because it made him look good. The Almed Fund for Children was having a gala, and sure enough, Connor Lohman was a benefactor.
Of course, he was.
The question was, how the hell did I get access to something like that? The article held some information about how to donate to the all-important cause, and I recognized a name. Jennifer Cormack.
I knew her. She often helped with events for the center. So was this one of those few times in my life that I had a string to pull?
Sometimes we have to do what we have to do.
Jennifer answered on the first ring. “Kaya, hi. How are you? Is there a meeting at the center I’m late for?"
"No. Actually, I'm calling about something else if you have a moment."
"Of course, how can I help?"
I was playing with fire. I knew that. But this was about my mother. I hadn't even looked for her beyond checking homeless shelters. Not in a proper way. I'd believed she left me behind. But what if she hadn't? What if I'd been blinded by that belief and gotten it wrong? Now was the time to make it right.
"I see you're holding an auction for the Almed Fund, and I'd love to participate. Maybe I can help with the auction." That should be easy.
She squealed in delight, and I could picture her flouncy blond hair and perma-pink cheeks. "Oh my gosh, I love everything about this. You do realize you'll be auctioning a date with yourself, right?"
What? No. I’d thought I could organize.
My stomach sank. It didn't matter, because I needed access to Connor Lohman, and that was where he was going to be. "Sign me up. Can't wait to auction myself off."
KAYA
Two weeks later, I realized I'd miscalculated.
When I had seen the article about the charity auction, I'd assumed I could get a spare moment to speak to him. That would have been simple. But oh no. In fifteen minutes, I was going on the auction block.
No matter. I could adjust. I had to adjust. I would adjust. He was my first lead in five years.
In this room stood the wealthiest of London’s elite. The problem with this crowd was they were so incestuous it was easy to spot anyone who didn't belong.
The impostors, the interlopers. Like me.
But I was good at blending. My entire purpose in life was to hide in plain sight, and I had gotten really good at it.
But moments like this, where I was out in the open for everyone to see, made me twitchy and edgy.
I could fake the confidence and belonging with the best of them though. But knowing I needed to look as bored as the rest of the socialites and actually maintaining my cool were two different things.
I had been waiting all night for this. Hell, I’d been waiting weeks for tonight.
The last man to see my mother alive was there, and I wasn't leaving until I talked to him.
Damn my mother and her secrets. I'd had to untangle the web of secrecy she left behind. She'd gone to meet Connor Lohman about his boss, and he was going to give her everything, fully grass on everyone.
She'd left me at home alone that night, and she'd never come home. I was fifteen.
He knew something. If Connor hadn't just been the mealy-mouthed middleman, I would have suspected he'd done something to her. Hell, maybe he had walked her right into a trap. But Mum was too smart for him, and he was afraid of her for some reason. But he had to at least know what had happened to her. All I needed was to talk to him.
I'd given him a bright sunny smile, cocking my head at an angle so that the hair I dropped over my face covered half of it. Hopefully, the most anyone would ever get of me for facial recognition, if that was even going to be a problem, was my profile.
One quick glance told me exactly where he was. Showtime.
I sauntered over to the bar with a smile. Just close enough that he might notice me and, very likely, the daring dip of the back of my dress. But not so close that I was all up in his face. Not obvious. I kept telling myself to breathe deep and not blow this. What would my mother do? That was the question I kept asking with every step of this ridiculous adventure. Whose bright idea was this?
Yours.
Right. The bartender approached with a grin. "Hello, beautiful. I'm Tucker. I can serve you tonight. What would you like?"
I took note of Connor's gimlet. "I'll have what he's having."
Connor turned. His head angled, a smile already on his lips. He scanned my body first, his smile growing wider. And then his grin froze in place when he reached my face. What the hell was that supposed to mean? It was sort of recognition, but it was also... fear?
That wasn't right.
I forced myself to smile back. "Hello."
He seemed to shake off the stun of seeing me. "You have good taste in drinks."
"I do, don't I?"
His gaze searched my face again. "Have we met?"
"No, I’ve not had the pleasure. I'm Kaya Sinclair."
The fake name was the one my mother had used often in many of the places we'd gone. Sometimes we'd been the Sinclairs, sometimes the Freemans. We always kept our first names though. Especially when I was small. She made it easy for me to remember if someone was using my actual name. But Reynolds was my real surname. I wasn't giving this geezer access to it.
"Well, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman."
It was only then that I noticed the men that were in close proximity to him. He called one over and muttered something to him. And then the three men that I'd seen in their dark suits and wired communication devices all but vanished into the crowd. Then he moved a little closer. "Now, what is a beautiful woman like you doing at a place like this alone?"
"Oh, you know, we all do things for charity."
"Yes, we do. You know, I'm sorry, but I could swear I have seen you before."
"I'm already speaking to you. You can drop the line."
His gaze ran over my body again. "Maybe you just have one of those faces."
I shrugged because no one had ever said that to me before. Suddenly, Connor's men were back, but they seemed to have multiplied. I counted six in the crowd. "Your friends, they're creepy."
Connor laughed as he glanced around and shook his head slightly. "Well, you can't be too careful these days. In my life, I've just learned to be cautious."
"Well, if you're overly cautious, how on earth do you have any fun?" I tried not to gag on the words as I flirted with him, but I knew it was important to keep his attention.
Tucker served my gimlet, and I took a sip, forcing my face into utter neutrality. I moaned a little to try and indicate bliss, but God, it tasted like shoe polish.
"A woman with good taste in drinks. I like it."
"Well, I learned to appreciate certain things in life."
As Connor flirted more, I moved closer and closer to him, occasionally lightly touching his arm, gauging interest. The crowd started to move toward the larger ballroom, and he inclined his head. "Might I escort you inside?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I have to decline. I would like some time to talk to you later though. Perhaps we can have another drink, somewhere more… private?"
He took my hand and then bowed forward and kissed it. "I was certainly hoping you would say something like that. What do you say the two of us actually skip this whole thing? I've already written a check. I don't have to be here."