Cromwell motioned for one of the managers, who also acted as bouncers.

“Sir?”

“Please carry the gentleman to my car.”

The bouncer nodded, and with one practiced motion lifted the thoroughly intoxicated Butler to a standing position and threw him over his shoulder. Then the bouncer proceeded up the stairs, carrying Butler’s bulk as lightly as if he were a bag of oats.

Cromwell leaned over Marion. “Can you walk to the car?”

She glanced up at him as if angry. “Of course I can walk.”

“Then it’s time to leave.” He took her by the arm and eased her from the chair.

Marion, unassisted but wobbly, went up the stairs. Then Cromwell turned his attention to his sister. He was not amused by her scandalous behavior. He grabbed her by the arm hard enough to cause a bruise and hauled her off the stage and out of the saloon to the waiting car at the curb. Butler was passed out in the front seat with Abner while Marion sat glassy-eyed in the back.

Cromwell roughly shoved Margaret into the backseat and followed her, pushing her into one corner. He sat in the middle between the two women as Abner got behind the wheel, started the car, and drove up the street that was ablaze with multicolored lights.

Slowly, Cromwell slid his arm around Marion’s shoulders. She looked at him with a vague, unresponsive expression. The champagne had given her a sense of lethargy, but she was not drunk. Her mind was still clear and sharp. His hand squeezed one shoulder and there was a small pause in her breathing. She could feel his body pressing against hers in the narrow confines of the seat.

There was a time when Marion had found her boss appealing and felt a deep attraction to him. But in the years she had worked for him, he had made no effort to bridge the gap between them. Now, suddenly, after all this time, he was showing an interest in her. Strangely, there was no emotion or arousal surging within her.

She felt as if she were repelled by him and she couldn’t understand why.

Marion was relieved there were no further moves on his part. The one arm remained snaked around her waist and his hand rested lightly on her shoulder until Abner stopped the Rolls in front of her apartment house. Cromwell stepped to the sidewalk and helped her from the car.

“Good night, Marion,” he said, holding her hand. “I trust you had an interesting evening.”

It was as if she saw now something deep within him that she had never seen before and she felt repulsed by his touch. “It will be an evening I’ll long remember,” she said honestly. “I hope Mr. Butler and your sister recover.”

“They’ll be hungover tomorrow, and justly so,” he said with a tight smile. “I’ll see you Monday morning. There is a pile of correspondence I have to dictate. I want to have a clean desk when I leave on a business trip on Friday.”