Chapter 2 - Hands Held at His Chest
He didn't blink. That was the worst part. In a room full of people pretending not to stare, Daniel just stood there looking straight at me, and I could feel the heat crawling up the back of my neck into my hair.
I smiled. I don't even remember deciding to do it. It was the board smile I'd practiced for donor photos, the one that said everything is fine.
"Daniel," I said, quiet enough that only he heard. "Not here."
Behind him, a couple from the foundation turned with champagne in their hands. The woman's eyes went straight to his neck, to the ink climbing up toward his jaw, then down to the silver cross against his black shirt. She didn't look away fast enough.
I shifted my weight and touched his forearm for half a second, just enough to steer him. It was the same way I'd move any guest who'd had too much to drink, polite and firm. He let me. That scared me more than if he'd argued.
We moved sideways, away from the center of the floor toward the marble column near the east wall. My heels clicked too loud on the floor. The string quartet kept playing near the stage. Someone laughed too bright behind us.
"You're making people nervous," I whispered, keeping my eyes forward.
"I'm not here for them," he said. His voice was lower than I remembered. Controlled.
I glanced past him and saw the server.
He was standing by the hallway opening, hands held up at his chest the way they had been in the first moment I noticed him. Black uniform, white buttons, white cuffs. Black fabric pulled tight over his whole head, no eyes, no mouth. Just shape. He wasn't holding a tray. He wasn't offering anything. He was just watching us.
My stomach tightened. Catering staff moved. They always moved. This one hadn't moved in three minutes.
"Do you know him?" I asked Daniel, nodding once toward the hallway.
Daniel didn't turn. "Give me two minutes."
"That's not an answer."
"It is for now." He paused. I could hear him breathe in through his nose. "Two minutes alone, Elena. That's all I'm asking."
A board member's wife brushed my elbow as she passed, perfume strong and sweet. "Love that color on you," she said, smiling at my dress. I thanked her without looking at her. My hand was shaking, so I pressed it flat against the side of my dress, against the royal blue fabric, to still it.
I looked back at the server. He had taken two steps closer. Still silent. Still with his hands at his chest. The chandelier light caught the white of his cuffs and made them glow against the black sleeves. I couldn't tell if he was young or old under there. I couldn't tell where he was looking, because there was nothing to look with.
"You followed me here," I said to Daniel. "You can't do that and then tell me to wait."
"I'm not telling you to wait. I'm asking." His eyes dropped for a second to the cross at his own chest, then back to me. "Side hallway. No cameras. Two minutes and I'll walk out if you want me to."
The quartet stopped between songs. In the gap, I heard ice in a glass and a man coughing and my own breathing too shallow. I knew what it looked like from the outside. A tattooed man in a black shirt cornering a board member in a strapless dress while a masked server hovered ten feet away. If I said no too loud, someone would step in. If I said yes too loud, someone would remember.
"Fine," I said. I kept my voice even. "Hallway. Two minutes."
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I didn't wait for him to respond. I turned toward the bright opening by the column, toward the cream walls and the harder light out there, and I walked like I had a reason to be walking. Like this was foundation business.
Behind me, I heard Daniel's shoes on the marble. And farther back, softer, another set of steps following at a distance.
