I could just leave, she thought. But something stopped her from moving. It was impossible to walk away from this party now that she knew he was here. She took off her remaining earring and hurled it hard, as far as she could, out into the river.

“What are you doing, crazy girl?”

The voice was close by. She turned around to see Guy Monteray standing just behind her, hands thrust deep in the pockets of his cream suit trousers. Handsome face smiling and amused.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“Could you possibly sound less pleased to see me?”

Suddenly there was a scrabbling and a yowling. People nearby were trying to get out of the path of two mad cats—one launching itself at the other, all teeth and paint-covered paws.

“I thought we agreed to be friends, Genevieve.”

Standing here by the river, looking up at Monteray’s tan face, his sparkly, humorous eyes—it was difficult to think her way back into the apartment over Shakespeare and Company, difficult to really recall her fear on finding that gun in his jacket. He looked so sane, so thoroughly normal. Betterson and McAlmon thought well of him. And he had a woman now, one who had left her husband and fortune and had crossed the Atlantic just to be with him.

“What did you think you were doing, putting that stupid death-head drawing down my dress?”

“Oh, God!” He put a hand up to his face. “I’m so sorry, Genevieve. I was drunk. I guess I thought it was funny, which shows how drunk I must have been!”

He looked genuinely embarrassed. She allowed herself to feel relief—decided to put the death-head firmly from her mind. Zachari was still talking with those women. They were laughing together.

“Where’s your new lady-friend tonight?” She heard the childlike note in her voice. “She’s got a funny name, hasn’t she—Slippy or Tickle or something?”

“Whisper,” he said. “She’s not here. She and I have…\an arrangement.”

“I see.” She didn’t, of course, but did it matter?

Another frenzied squeal—a flash of claws and yellow eyes and the cats came pelting straight at them. Genevieve, alarmed, tried to take a step back and almost toppled. They flew by so close, she felt fur brush against her legs.

“Hey. Easy.” Monteray grabbed her arm to steady her. And as she righted herself—his hand still on her arm—her eyes met Zachari’s.

Quickly she looked away, down at her feet. There was a bright blue paint smear on the toe of her Rambaldi satin shoe. Damn it!

Lulu gestured to the band, and they swung into a new number—one with an irresistible, catchy rhythm that drove the dancers wild. She leaped off the wall and flung herself into their midst.

Taking a deep breath, and not allowing herself to look at Zachari again, Genevieve smiled at the easygoing Guy Monteray.