Conor flipped a glass and scooped ice.

“How did you get in here?” Damian asked in a low tone.

“I blackmailed the caterer.” Conor twisted the cap off the soda bottle. “If you don’t want people to know you’re messing around on your wife, don’t take your mistress to bars.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Damian said. “But seriously, what made you think this was a good idea?”

Conor squeezed a lime wedge into the drink and placed it on a cocktail napkin. “Because Louisa was coming, and one of these people could be a killer.”

“What will the cops think of you butting into the fund-raiser?”

“I don’t know. We could ask the one who followed me over here. He’s probably parked outside.”

Damian shot him a bad idea glare. “We need to talk after this. Louisa’s place.”

“You and Louisa are close?” Conor forced the words out of lips tight enough to crack.

Damian’s eyes sparked. “Oh my God. You’re jealous.” He covered his laughing mouth with his fist.

“Why is that so hilarious?” Conor grimaced.

Damian spun around and scanned the crowd. He raised a finger in the air, motioning to a tall, blond man. “Mark?” Damian turned back to Conor.

The blond extricated himself from a conversation with three well-jeweled elderly women and walked over. He gave Conor a critical once-over and raised an approving eyebrow at Damian. “You called?”

Damian gestured. “My partner, Mark, will have a Johnny Walker on the rocks.”

“And I’m not his law partner.” Mark smiled.

Cheered, Conor poured whiskey over ice. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Taking the drink, Mark gave Damian a nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go back to charming those very wealthy widows into making fat donations.”

“You didn’t know I was gay?” Damian asked after Mark returned to his conversation.

“I’ve never felt so clueless in my life.”

“You’ve been preoccupied.” Damian handed over his empty glass for a refill. “Does it bother you?”

Conor laughed. “Damian, you have no idea how happy I am that you’re gay.”

“I didn’t realize you thought there was something going on between me and Louisa. She’s just a friend. A good friend. So if you hurt her, I’ll let you rot in jail.”

“Noted.” Conor nodded.

Damian took his refill and wandered off. Guests drifted toward the lobby. The room emptied out. At a signal from the caterer, Conor started breaking down the bar. He was hoisting a case of glassware onto a rolling cart when he spotted Louisa out of the corner of his eye. She was heading down a corridor. Alone.

He put the box on the cart, glanced around, and set off after her. He caught up with her easily. Her pace was slow and deliberate, as if she was masking pain. “Where are you going?”