of prejudices. Against people like her.
Conner was ashamed of her.
That was why he’d insisted she come to the event as his assistant. Why he’d accepted a date with Ms. Paris Vogue. Why he hadn’t told his brother, or anyone, the true nature of his relationship with Vera. If you could call two days of monkey sex a relationship.
“N-no,” she stammered. Shook her head. “I mean yes. I’m fine. Really. Go back to your date.”
“I don’t want to—”
“Conner, please. I’m tired. There’s nothing more to learn here. I’m going home now.”
He frowned, managing to look concerned. Maybe he really did care. Yeah, that she’d blow their cover and reveal herself to his blue-blood family. She’d seen him with his famous hotel magnate uncle, Harold Rothchild, and his young trophy wife. Wouldn’t they get a kick out of—
No, stop it. Conner wasn’t like that.
Except he was. And now finally both of them knew it.
“I’ll call the limo for you,” he said.
“No. I’ll take a cab.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He pulled his cell phone from his tuxedo pocket.
“All right, fine.” She didn’t want to argue. She just wanted to be gone from this nightmare of a night.
“The driver has the pass code for the gate.”
For a second she didn’t know what he meant. Then it hit her. He expected her to go back to his home.
Can you say no way in hell? But she decided not to tell him that. “Yes, I remember.”
“Good. I’ll tell Hildy to be expecting you.”
It occurred to her that this must be a huge relief for him. Now he wouldn’t have to come up with lame excuses as to why he needed to drop his assistant off after he dropped off his date. She’d just be waiting for him at home. Preferably in bed. Preferably nude.
No wonder he hadn’t protested.
She went to take off the ring. “You should take this.”
“No, keep it for now,” he said.
She couldn’t argue or he’d know she had no intention of going to his place. She’d just have to send it back to him tomorrow.
“All right. Go.” She made a shooing motion. “Your friends will be wondering where you are.”
He hesitated, his brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look…”
“I’m fine,” she lied. “Go find your lady.”
“She’s not—”
But Vera was already walking away, not listening. Back straight, head up, she told herself as she threaded through the throng. How many of these strangers had witnessed Maximil-lian’s tirade against her? It didn’t matter. She just had to make it to the door without being stopped. Pretend you ‘re on the catwalk. You ‘re not naked, they are.
“Vera?”
Oh, God, now what?
She resolutely ignored the unfamiliar male voice and went right on walking.
Long fingers grasped her shoulder. “Vera, wait.”
She suddenly remembered the thief. She opened her mouth to scream. But then she recognized who it was. From pictures. In her living room.
“I’m Henry St. Giles,” he said, removing his hand. “Darla’s brother.”
Fortyish with thinning hair, he was still good-looking in a boring businessman sort of way. Darla was always telling stories about his out-of-control, crazy youth, but somehow he’d ended up selling out to their father and going to work for him after he was cut off for a year. Which explained why they’d never met.
“I know who you are,” she said curtly, bracing herself for round two. “What do you want?”
He looked abashed. “I’m sorry, Vera. I just wanted to apologize for what happened back there. With my father.”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“We don’t all think the way he does.”
She arched a brow but didn’t comment.
“I know you have no reason to believe me,” he continued, “but I honestly regret not getting to know you like Darla did. You’re my little sister. I should have made the effort, not cowed under to my father’s…stupidity.”
Wow. She hadn’t known what to expect from Henry St. Giles when he stopped her, but this definitely wasn’t even on the list.
“That’s, um, very nice of you to say.” Not that she particularly believed him.
“You look like her,” he said, with a little smile.
“Yeah. So we’ve been told.”
The man actually looked bashful. Either he was a hell of an actor or he was sincere. You could have knocked her over with a feather.
He held out a business card to her. “This is me. I’ve written my private line on the back. Call me. I’d love to get together for lunch or dinner. Get to know you. If you like.”
She decided to be flattered. “Thanks. Maybe I will.” Could she actually be getting a brother? She reached for the card. The second he spotted the ring on her finger, Henry’s eyes popped. “What the—” They shot to hers in shock, even wider. “Vera, is that what I think it is? The ring from Candace Rothchild’s murder?”
She smiled at his bewilderment and shook her head. “No. It’s paste. Pretty good copy, though, don’t you think?”
“Where on earth did you get it?” he asked, still awestruck by the jewel.
“Long story,” she said with a laugh.
“I thought it was stolen?”
“No, the original was stolen. Well, actually both. But now they’re back—”
“Miss Mancuso?” the doorman interrupted. “Your limo is here, miss.”
“Thanks, I’ll be right there.” She tucked Henry’s card in her beaded bag and held out her hand to him. “It was nice to finally meet you, Henry. And I will call. I look forward to lunch.”
He nodded and waited just inside the entrance, watching as she walked to the white stretch limo and got in. He waved as the chauffeur closed the door.
Vera let out a long sigh of relief, bending down to pull off her shoes and wiggle her
