“It’s going to be my reading chair,” Skye said. “It’ll go great in the corner of my nest. I’m going to refurbish it.”
“Ah,” Halo hummed. “A project. Good.” She turned to me. “And you’re just who I wanted to see.” Her brown sugar coated plums danced in the fresh summer breeze.
“I am?”
“The suit for the gala has arrived. If you come in I’ll give it to you to take home.”
I blinked. The gala! I had completely forgotten.
“Sure,” I nodded. “Lead the way.”
The three of us went inside the house, Skye trailing behind, already glued to her phone, watching videos on how to reupholster a chair.
Chapter 31
HALO
Ihadtoadmitit, Rowan cleaned up nice. The suit Charisma let him borrow seemed made for him. It was a deep burgundy, nearly black, with an extremely narrow cream tie, an ashy button down, and a cream coloured scarf around his shoulders. His hair was stylishly tousled. Men weren’t where my interests lay, but if they had been, I might have suggested sharing Rowan. And yes, if he wanted to, he could have been a male model.
I turned my head toward Rowan, who was on my left arm. “Have you ever been to the Paramour?”
“No way. And I never thought in a million years I ever would.” He was in a state of awe, one even more powerful than Skye’s.
“Enjoy it,” I said. “Tonight, you’re one of the pretty, privileged people.”
We took our time walking into the Paramour. Partially for the photo ops, and partially so Skye could take it all in. She had never been to the Floating District, the ultra-glamorous side of Port Haven. Buildings that looked like they were carved from crystal towered all around us, and the lights of the city illuminated the night sky as we walked the red carpet from our vehicle, between velvet ropes, and into the hotel.
On my right arm was Skye, who looked unbelievably stunning in a deep blue cape-sleeve dress that hid everything from the neck down and hugged her figure perfectly. Charisma could make Skye a perfect dress in her sleep.
We entered the ball room, where other socialites and stars were already mingling, or pretending to.
Among the appetizers, the champagne fountains, the upper crust and the expensive artworks on display were easels with cardstock signs that narrated depressing little factoids about the state of Port Haven. Specifically, the dire realities of some shadowy omega-snatching cabal.
Trust the Centre for Missing and Exploited Omegas to engage in a little fear mongering to force open some wallets.
“This seems awfully chipper for such a serious topic,” Rowan said.
“Welcome to charity porn,” I said. “Half the people here don’t know why they’re here, and the other half know why but they just like the photo op.”
Skye looked up at me. “Why are we here?”
“It’s my job to be at these places,” I said, the reality of it made my scalp itch but I ignored it the best I could. If I wanted to advance my middling career, I had to be seen.
“Are omegas really going missing?” Rowan asked.
“According to the statistics on the flier,” I said.
“I had heard about one omega disappearing,” Skye added. “At the support group. An omega’s sister had just… vanished.”
Rowan turned his head and studied one of the canvases on the wall. On a stark white background was painted a red Omega sign with a diagonal slash through it, reminiscent of a no smoking sign. He narrowed his eyes at the tag under it. “Seventy-five thousand dollars?”
“And it’s been sold.” Skye pointed to the little sticker next to the plaque.
“At least it’s for a good cause, I guess,” Rowan conceded.
“We’re patroning the arts,” I said. “This art exhibit is all created by the elusive Dez Ignation.”
Rowan swallowed and it was clear that he was clueless, but didn’t want to ask the obvious question.
