“So do they. Sit.” He lowered her to the sofa she had insisted be faded. “Tell me.” He took his gaze from hers only long enough to watch his guards go backstage.

“Everyone went home—I thought everyone went home. Of course I know there’s been a guard on me. I heard a bang, then footsteps. There was the body in the hall. I went back to the phone, then I heard someone again. Alex, it was the man you fenced with, that Jermaine.”

“Jermaine was shot?”

“No, no!” Dragging her hands through her hair, she tried to be clear. “He was the one. He had a gun. I knocked him out, then—”

“You knocked out Jermaine?”

“I’m trying to tell you,” she snapped. “He must have shot the other man, and he was coming back.”

“Eve.” He shook her gently. “Jermaine is the head of my personal security. I assigned him to you to protect you.”

“But he …” She trailed off, struggling to clear her mind. “Then who … ?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” Russ stepped out of the shadows at stage left. In his hand was a revolver, lengthened by a slim silencer.

“Oh, my God.” Before the words were out, Alexander was up, placing Eve behind him.

“I have to thank you for sending your guards away, even so briefly, Your Highness. I promise to be quick. I am, after all, a professional.”

“No.” Eve stepped from behind Alexander to grip his arm. “You can’t.”

“You, I regret.” There was a touch of sincerity in his tone as he smiled at Eve. “You know the business, Eve. I want you to know you’re the best producer I’ve ever worked for.”

“You won’t get away with it.” Alex spoke quietly, knowing his guards would be back in a matter of seconds.

“I’ve been given the opportunity to learn this theater very well. I can disappear in ten seconds. It should be all I need. If I don’t make it …” He shrugged. All of them heard the high, distant sound of sirens. “Well, that’s business.” He leveled the gun at Alexander’s heart. “Nothing personal.”

They were standing on the set. The red urn with its bunch of bright paper flowers stood out like a joke. The heat of the spotlights warmed them as though the play had already begun. But the gun was real.

She screamed. It was torn out of her. Without a second thought, with no regrets, she stepped in front of Alexander and took the bullet.

* * *

She couldn’t die. Alexander sat with his head in his hands as the phrase repeated over and over in his head like a litany. He knew how to pray, but those were the only words that would come to him.