Chapter 11 - The Black-Tie Trap
The grand McKim Building of the Boston Public Library was breathtaking under the November night sky. Giant stone lions guarded the marble staircase, and dramatic amber uplighting illuminated the historic courtyard.
At 7:00 PM, a black town car pulled up to the red carpet.
Graham stepped out, looking every inch the triumphant mogul in a custom velvet tuxedo. Beside him was Colette Vance, stunning in an emerald green backless gown, dripping in emeralds that I knew had been purchased with Lantern Quay wire transfers. Behind them walked Arthur Vance, a silver-haired, imposing real estate tycoon with a scowl that commanded obedience.
Graham was smiling, shaking hands with city councilors and board members as cameras flashed.
"Arthur, this way," Graham gestured smoothly toward the grand hall. "Our table is front and center. The entire creative elite of New England is here tonight."
"Good," Arthur Vance grunted in a heavy Midwestern rasp. "Because if I'm putting two million into this boutique firm, I want to see real institutional influence, Graham. Not just talk."
"You have my word, Arthur. Lantern Quay’s infrastructure is completely behind us."
They reached Table One, right beneath the soaring arched ceiling of Bates Hall. The table was dressed in black silk and white orchids.
Sitting at the center of the table, sipping sparkling cider from a crystal flute, was me.
I wore an off-the-shoulder midnight-blue velvet maternity gown that hugged my belly with regal elegance. My dark hair was swept up into an intricate chignon, secured with diamond pins that had belonged to my grandmother. Flanking me on either side were Evelyn Sterling, wearing her sharpest black silk suit, and Fiona Pike, radiant in gold lace.
Graham stopped dead in his tracks. The color drained from his face so fast he actually stumbled into a waiter carrying a tray of champagne.
Colette froze, her hand flying to her emerald necklace. "Graham? Who is that?"
I set down my glass. The crystal made a soft, decisive *clink* against the marble plate.
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"Good evening, Graham," I said, my voice carrying effortlessly across the VIP circle. "You're late for your own company's table."
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