My smile stays plastered on my face for maybe two seconds after the applause dies down. Then I realize something: Lucien isn't here. I turn left, then right, scanning over tuxedos, glittery dresses, and way too many fake smiles. Nothing.
I take a slow lap around the lounge, weaving past people. Still no sign of him. My pulse kicked up a notch. Not exactly panic, more like that itch you get when you know something is off, but can't quite put your finger on it.
I start to feel a prickle on the back of my neck. Somebody is watching me. Not just a quick glance. I try to spot it, but with half the room wearing masks and hiding champagne flutes, it is like playing Guess Who with a hundred suspects.
And then I see him sort of. A tall figure in a dark suit, a mask covering his face. I blink, and he is gone, slipping into the crowd like smoke. I tell myself not to be paranoid, but my gut isn't buying it.
I head for the bar; I need something strong and salty to keep my hands busy. The bartender doesn't even have to ask--- dirty martini, extra olives. I can feel it again; someone is behind me. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to make the air around me feel heavier.
My brain is firing in all directions. Where the hell did Lucien go? Why didn't he say anything?
Then I remember, Lucien never tells anything. Not why he is doing? What is he doing? That is just how he operates. I take a deep breath, straighten my back, and turn around, martini in hand. And freeze.
"Jack," I blurt.
Jack Morgan is standing right here. No mask now, just his face, still with sharp angles that made him look like he had walked straight out of a courtroom drama. His hair is slicked back neatly; I think for the first time I can see him in his best looks.
"Hi, Anaya." He is hesitant.
I grip tightly on my glass. "Don't 'hey Anaya' me." I narrow my eyes. "Did you lose my case on purpose?"
Jack flinches like I have slapped him. "What? No. Jesus, no."
I take a slow sip, watching him over the rim of the glass. "Because I have been thinking about it, and the way things went down. You had everything lined up, evidence, but still I went to prison."
Jack runs a hand over the back of his neck, looking away for a second before meeting my eyes again. "I didn't tank your case, Anaya. I swear to you, I did everything by the book. I played it straight every step of the way."
I shoot up, and my brows go up. "By the book? You are telling me the book says, 'lose at the last minute like it's scripted."
He sighs, rubbing his jaw. "You could have won, easily. You had them cornered. But then your brother happened."
I narrow my eyes. "My brother happened?
Jack gives a humorless laugh. "Yeah. I mean, Ethan Brooks shoved money into a few key people's asses—jurors, maybe even the clerk. It screwed everything up. The judge smelled the rot, and you paid for it."
I stare at him, chest rising and falling a little faster now. "You are telling me I lost because my brother couldn't keep his greasy hands out of my trial?"
He spreads his hands, palms up. "I always knew it and even tried to undo it, but once that stink's in the air, the whole case is poisoned."
I shake my head. "Why didn't you tell me anything? Is this the reason you told me before my verdict had come, 'Don't lose the fire in you,' because you already knew it?"
He steps closer to me and looks around. Jack lowers his voice. "Actually, I am not famous as an honest lawyer in California. But one day, I find a briefcase full of cash with a note: 'Fight for Anaya Brooks.' I tore the note and spent the whole night in a bar. The next day, I was assigned to your case, and I have clear instructions from an anonymous entity to take care of you even if things go south. Else, I won't ever be able to see the next sunrise." Jack laughs a little. "I mean, I don't know who has the guts to believe in a lawyer like me."
I take another sip. "The one who knows you can do anything for money."
He smirks and points a finger at me. "You are right. So, care to tell what happened? How am I watching you at a masquerade party?"
I gesture toward the empty stool beside me, tapping it lightly with my fingers. "Sit."
Jack slides onto the stool and sets his glass of whiskey on the counter with a dull thud.
"Have you ever heard the name Lucien Moretti?" I ask casually.
His head jerks up, eyes wide. He shushes me instantly, pressing one finger to his lips. "Are you insane?" His voice is low. "How can you just say his name out loud like this? He is the monster."
I nod, exhaling through my nose, the stem of my martini glass turning slowly between my fingers. "That anonymous entity? It was Lucien."
Jack's face turns pale enough to match the ice in his drink. He leans in, almost whispering. "What?"
I nod again and set my empty glass down with a soft clink. Jack's jaw drops. "Thank God I didn't screw up and try to run with his money. Or ditch you."
I actually laugh, soft and unexpected. "At that time, I didn't think I could laugh again. Didn't think happiness was even an option. But now..." I shake my head with a wry smile.
Jack straightens halfway, gripping his glass. "But why didn't he help you win? If Lucien Moretti wanted, he could have bought the whole damn bench, jurors, judges, all of them."
My smile falters. Maybe I know the answer, but I don't dare voice it. Instead, I lift one shoulder in a shrug. "I have no idea, Jack. Whatever happened in my life, why and how, it's all a mystery to me, too."
Jack finishes the rest of his whiskey and stands up. "I genuinely feel good to see you out here. In case." He slips his card under his glass and salutes me with two fingers, and walks away with a smile on his face.