I laughed in his face. McAllister had called me trash—and worse—on more than one occasion, but his insults didn’t bother me in the slightest. In fact, I idly considered reaching out, grabbing the lawyer’s lapels, and dragging him back into a dark corner so I could stab him to death with one of my knives. But alas, there were too many people, too many cameras, and too many giant guards posing as waiters in here for me to get away with murdering McAllister.

Still, the lawyer’s days were numbered. I’d make sure of that.

An angry, mottled flush stained McAllister’s cheeks at my light, happy, mocking laughter, and I could almost see the wheels furiously spinning in his mind as he thought about how he could get the better of me. He took another long, careful look at me, intently eyeing me from head to toe, then pivoted on his heel and strode away. I watched him for a few moments, but instead of going over to a couple of the giants and demanding that they escort me out, he pulled his cell phone out of his pants pocket and started texting on it. Maybe he was sending his demands to someone higher up the museum food chain than the guards.

Strange, even for McAllister. Usually, he had some sort of devious plan in mind when it came to me, one that involved my untimely demise. It wasn’t like him just to walk away after merely one insult. I’d have to keep an eye on him—

“A fresh glass of champagne, ma’am?”

A silver tray appeared at my elbow, and I stared up at the person holding it, a giant about seven and a half feet tall. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, judging from the wrinkles fanning out from the corners of her eyes, the deep laugh lines grooving in and around her mouth, and the long crease slashing across her forehead.

She wore the same starched white shirt and matching black tuxedo vest, bow tie, and pants that all of the other waiters did, but her features were quite striking. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was a mass of tight, wild curls, while her hazel eyes were just a shade darker than her tan skin. Her understated makeup highlighted her full mouth, sharp nose, and high cheekbones, and even the waiter uniform couldn’t disguise her generous breasts or how long her legs were. Put a gown on her, and she’d turn her fair share of heads in the room.

She also seemed vaguely familiar to me, like I’d seen her before, although I couldn’t quite place when or where. I’d probably noticed her at some other event, serving as a waiter or maybe even as a bodyguard to one of the underworld bosses. As the Spider, I’d met a lot of giants in my time. Well, killed was more like it.