The question is loaded with expectation. I feel a surge of irritation. Eleanor has backed me into a corner with typical precision. If I dismiss the suggestion too forcefully, I insult Lea and give Eleanor ammunition to spread rumors about my mistreatment of women. If I’m too ambiguous, she’ll interpret it as confirmation and spread that rumor instead.
I need to end this line of questioning definitively, with a statement so final it will leave no room for further speculation.
The solution comes to me in a flash of inspiration—or perhaps desperation. I put my arm around Lea’s shoulders, drawing her closer to my side.
“Actually, Eleanor,” I say smoothly, “you’re the first to know. Lea and I are engaged.”
I feel Lea stiffen beside me. I squeeze her shoulder in warning, and to her credit, she recovers instantly, leaning into me.
I expect Eleanor to be stunned into momentary silence by this announcement. Instead, she gasps theatrically, her hand flying to her chest in a gesture of delight.
“Engaged, Nico, darling! Finally!” she exclaims with such volume that I’m sure the security guards at the perimeter can hear her. “This is the most wonderful news of the season! When did this happen? Where’s the ring? Oh, we must celebrate!”
Lea, playing her part to perfection, gives a demure smile. “It’s very recent. We’re still choosing the ring together. Nico wants me to pick out the style I prefer.”
The improvisation is flawless. I struggle to maintain my composure, caught between admiration for her quick thinking and alarm at how easily she slips into this false narrative.
“Ah, how modern and thoughtful,” Eleanor coos, reaching across to pat Lea’s knee. “You’ve found yourself a good one, dear. Difficult and complicated, to be sure, but a good man underneath it all.”
Lea looks up at me with such convincing adoration that for a split second, I almost believe it myself. “Yes, I know,” she says softly.
Eleanor vibrates with barely contained excitement. “This is perfect timing! You simply must come to my annual Summer Gala on Saturday. It will be a wonderful venue to announce it to everyone!”
This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. The last thing I need is to parade Lea in front of Chicago’s elite while lying about our relationship. Moretti might be on the low, but the security risks alone make it an impossible proposition, not to mention the complications it would create with our actual arrangement. Lea’s complete obedience in return for protection.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to decline,” I begin. “We’re in the middle of some sensitive?—”
“I simply will not take no for an answer!” Eleanor interrupts, her voice keeping its pleasant tone but taking on a steely quality that has cowed board members and politicians alike. “Everyone who matters in Chicago will be there. It would be noticed and remarked upon if you weren’t, especially now that you’re engaged. People would talk, Nico. You know how they do.”
It’s a veiled threat, expertly delivered. If we don’t appear at her gala, Eleanor will ensure that our absence becomes the subject of speculation throughout her considerable social network. And with the recent incident at Purgatorio already circulating as gossip, I can’t afford additional scrutiny.
Got me. Trapped. All thanks to an old socialite with nothing but questions and manners as weapons.
“We would be delighted to attend,” Lea says before I can respond. She places her hand over mine, a gesture that appears affectionate but feels like a challenge. “Wouldn’t we, darling?”
She turns to look at me, and there it is—the flash of triumph in her eyes, so quick I almost miss it. She knows I’m pushed into a corner. Worse, she’s enjoying it.
“Of course,” I reply, squeezing her hand with just enough pressure to communicate my displeasure. “We wouldn’t miss it.”
Eleanor claps her hands in delight. “Wonderful! Saturday afternoon at three. Black tie, of course. And Lea, dear, if you need any help finding something suitable to wear, I’d be happy to introduce you to my personal shopper. She’s a miracle worker.”
The subtle dig at Lea’s presumed lack of appropriate attire doesn’t go unnoticed, but Lea responds with perfect grace. “That’s very kind, Mrs. Davenport, but I believe I can manage.”
“Eleanor, please. We’re practically family now.” She rises from her chair with the air of a general who has secured a decisive victory. “I should let you two lovebirds get back to your day. So much to plan for, I imagine.”
I stand to escort her back to her golf cart, grateful for the impending end to this ambush. Eleanor leans in as I help her into the vehicle.
“There’s something substantial there,” she murmurs, her shrewd eyes assessing me. “Don’t mess it up, Nico. Women like that don’t come along every day.”
Before I can respond, she’s starting the engine and gives a cheerful wave. “Saturday! Three o’clock sharp! I’ll be watching for you both!”
I stand on the driveway, watching as the golf cart disappears down the private road, torn between admiration for Eleanor’s tactical skills and fury at being so thoroughly outmaneuvered. When I turn back toward the house, Lea is standing on the porch, arms crossed, watching me.
I approach slowly, studying her face. “Some performance,” I say, my voice neutral.
“Which part?” she replies, a hint of challenge in her tone. “The devoted fiancée or the one where I saved you from a social catastrophe?”
“Both,” I admit, stopping at the foot of the stairs so that I have to look up at her. A rare position for me. “You improvise well.”
