Her obvious interest gave Elena pause. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but she hadn’t survived her teens with a drunken nomad for a father by ignoring her instincts. So she spoke more cautiously than she might have otherwise.

“The Mesa Falls owners all trust Salazar. And that says a lot to me.” She peered up toward the meeting place again and spied Jonah emerging with Desmond Pierce. “They must be finished now.”

“You know they all attended a boarding school where Alonzo was a teacher, right?” Chiara asked, her gaze narrowing as a tall man dressed like a casino employee approached Desmond Pierce and seemed to receive instructions. “I attended a girls’ school nearby, but none of them remember me.”

Elena did a double take as the words sank in. “You knew them from their school days? Does Astrid know?”

“I mentioned it to her once, but I’m not sure if she remembers. But it’s not as surprising as it sounds that none of the owners remember me. I was just plain old Kara Marsh back then—tall and gawky and a long way from being comfortable in my own skin.”

As much as Elena longed to find Gage upstairs and pull him into a quiet corner to finish their earlier conversation, she couldn’t deny a strong curiosity about Chiara’s tie to Gage and his friends. A tie he apparently didn’t know about.

“You changed your name?” Elena wondered how many of her followers knew about this.

“No. I simply use Chiara like a stage name. When I started out, it made it easier to have some separation between my professional world and my personal life.” Chiara pointed toward the stairs. “Shall we go up? I’m sure you’re eager to see Gage.”

Was she that obvious? But as much as she’d thought about him all day, she also feared she was getting in over her head with him. His reaction to her news this morning had been difficult to read. Instead, she delayed a bit longer, asking Chiara another question.

“Doesn’t it bother you that they don’t remember you?” she pressed, not moving toward the steps.

The sound of the fountain splashing filled the air. A group of young women wearing T-shirts printed with “Bridesmaid” in frilly font giggled as they passed Elena, fruity drinks in hand.

“Not really. I don’t want to be Chiara Campagna forever,” she mused wistfully, gazing down at a wristwatch with a huge yellow diamond in its face. “But if you change your mind about looking into Alonzo Salazar’s connection to the ranch owners, I’d be game to develop an angle with you.”