Nothing about Damon’s icy tone was subtle. And if Micah had any lingering doubts that Damon was a powerful man, they were well and truly washed away when Mr. Sullivan – a powerful figure himself – blanched. “Of course. I’m a passionate man, you see, and I forget myself at times. My apologies if you took offense.”

The apology was directed at Damon, but Damon merely turned towards Micah.

Why did it feel like he had a man’s life in his hands?

Micah cleared his throat. “None taken.”

Before the tension could grow any more stifling, Marco interjected with a question about the hammerless revolvers Sullivan and Sons was working on, and talk turned towards business.

At least for the men.

Caprice and Renata appeared to be gossiping, shooting furtive looks Micah’s way every few minutes, with a resigned-looking Jason caught between them. As for Sullivan’s wife, she hadn’t uttered a word since they’d sat down. Her eyes were somewhat glazed, and Micah suspected she may have been high on something. (Micah didn’t blame her considering her husband.)

He tried not to feel disappointed when Damon’s hand drifted from his thigh.

He was beyond relieved when the waitress finally returned with the wine, pouring it expertly into a glass. “Thank you,” he said, truly grateful as he took a sip of the Recioto della Valpolicella. Damon was right – it was sugary sweet, and probably the best wine Micah had ever tasted. “Leave the bottle, would you?” he asked.

“Of course.”

Shortly after that, the jazz music lulled, and the lighting dimmed. Everyone still lingering around the bars found their seats, and the chatter at their table quieted as the host of the gala took center stage.

He was an older gentleman, but not old old. His gray hair was slicked back, and he wore a simple three-piece suit with a black and gold striped tie. Micah recognized him immediately as Senator Andrew Wilcox.

Micah’s father detested the man. He considered him one of the main congressmen responsible for New York City’s shrinking police budget.

Micah listened with half an ear as he introduced himself and thanked everyone for attending the gala. He talked about the charity they were raising money for, Dare to Dream, at which time he invited his son on stage.

It was well-known that Senator Wilcox and his wife had adopted the boy out of the system. The twelve-year-old’s boxy suit hung off his adolescent frame, and the smile he wore looked forced.

Micah imagined it got old being paraded around as proof of his father’s generosity and supposed altruism. He tuned out as the boy returned to his seat and Senator Wilcox spoke of some of the “wonderful, unique” items they had available for auction in the east wing of the venue.