He walked out of the room without answering.
So. She’d woken up all pink and glowing, and less than an hour later, got demoted from lover to coworker simply because she wouldn’t play things the way he wanted her to. Life went on.
Ty wasn’t more important than Gloria.
Unfortunately, the thought did nothing to ease the pain of his absence.
Part 3: The Mission
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
The rolling hills of the Napa Valley were clad in golden grass growing thickly under dark, gnarled grapevines in orderly rows belonging to countless vineyards. The drive up from San Francisco Airport had taken them over the Golden Gate Bridge and through Marin County, a wealthy coastal community that was nowhere near as rustic as it looked. Ty had told her that dozens of multimillionaires and several billionaires resided there and in Napa as well.
It took fifteen minutes to get to the end of this so-called driveway. The Hispanic Alliance fund-raiser was taking place on an estate that was well hidden from casual visitors. It was also open to the public—assuming one was prepared to pay a grand a plate.
Their driver left them near the main house, an enormous adobe structure with a roof of curved Spanish red tiles and walls punctuated with the round ends of viga beams. Antique doors that looked like they came from some ancient Mexican hacienda had been flung open. The low, semicircular tiled stairs leading to them held terra-cotta planters bursting with unusual plants and small trees.
Ana looked to the left as the luxury car moved into a slot among others, guided there by a bow-tied valet.
“Did you forget something?” Ty asked. “I can have the car brought back.”
She shook her head. “No. I was just looking at all the others.”
Ana barely knew one make of car from another, but the different vehicles gleaming under the brilliant California sun looked expensive to her, even from here.
Ty didn’t seem particularly impressed. But then he was a blueblood and used to all that. Ana straightened up and smoothed her dress.
“Ready?” He offered her his arm.
“I think so.”
Ana and Ty made their entrance. She touched a hand to the carved wooden doors for good luck as they passed through them. The gala was in full swing, but a lot of the guests weren’t in formal wear. They could have been in Seattle, what with all the natural fibers, artisan jewelry, and hair au naturel. Still, Ana had a feeling that the understated look didn’t come cheap.
She felt like she’d stepped into another world. It had nothing to do with the existence of paranormal creatures and everything to do with the unseen power of privilege and wealth.
Unlike Los Angeles, rich people in Northern California weren’t in your face with it. But in their own politically correct way, it took about five minutes for this crowd to let you know that they had it all and you didn’t.
Ana’s radar picked up on the quiet condescension—and a few approving glances. Her classic white linen dress didn’t raise any eyebrows. She saw a longer version of it sweep by on a redhead. Probably couture.
This was a gathering of the country’s philanthropic elite. People who had so much money they could generously give it away to help the less fortunate.
People like her. People who needed help no matter how much they wished they didn’t.
The decor was beautiful. The people were beautiful. Even the trays of champagne glasses and little appetizers were beautiful.
Everything was so frigging beautiful that she suddenly wanted to knock the silver trays out of the hands of the tuxed-up waiters circling the room. At the same time, she wanted to kick her own ass because she couldn’t deny that resentment and jealousy were driving her.
For many of these people, this was just a special evening, an occasion to get dressed up. For others, however, it was a way of life. Ty, for example, had probably gone to parties like this all the time. He looked so comfortable, so right in his tux.
If not for Barrett and Justine, she could have looked like a hobo trying to pass herself off as royalty. Both had told her to go for elegant simplicity and be herself. Collette had bowed out of the discussion, saying fashion scared her. Barrett had taken Ana shopping, and Justine had tried out several hairstyles until settling on loose curls. The style softened her scar, which had virtually disappeared under expertly applied makeup anyway.
She’d felt a little like Cinderella, but with much nicer stepsisters.
Afterward, the four of them had stared somberly at one another. They’d all agreed to talk when she got back.
So this was the ball. There wasn’t anyone dancing at the moment, even though there was a small orchestra playing soft music under a pavilion tent on the other side of a vast patio.
She forced herself to be honest. She was not Cinderella and she wasn’t going to be marrying the prince when this was all over. The best she could hope for was an invitation into a cult to determine whether her sister and her former best friend Miguel were enslaving humans for the purpose of making them feed vampires.
“I don’t see Miguel or your sister. Shall we circle the crowd?” Ty murmured into her ear. Although his words were bland, the warmth of his breath and the rough timbre of his voice made her shiver with memories of their night together. Instinctively, she shoved those memories away and stepped forward. As she did, her ankles wobbled underneath her.
Damn, she hadn’t trained enough for this at Belladonna’s headquarters. She should have worked more on dressing and walking like a lady. She thought back to what Collette had taught her about appearing relaxed when she was anything but: focus on her core. She took a steadying breath, closed her eyes, and tightened her abs, trying to remember what Barrett looked like as she glided around the headquarters in her spike heels, oozing rich-girl attitude.
Chin up. Balance between her heel and the ball of her foot. Shoulders down, face relaxed.
“You’re doing beautifully,” Ty said. “As beautiful as you look.”
This time she did more than wobble. She stumbled. He caught her arm to steady her. His dark gaze burned into her.
“Thank—thank you,” she managed to choke out.
“No, thank you. For coming to Belladonna in the first place. For flying all the way out here. But most of all, for letting me make love to you.”
Her joy was tempered by confusion. For the past several days, he’d treated her just like the other female agents. He hadn’t betrayed by expression, word, or touch that what they’d shared had meant anything to him. Even in her dreams, he’d remained distant from her.
She’d dealt with the pain of that distance by telling herself over and over again it was for the best. But her heart had never believed it and his polite comments now caused a flood of inconvenient emotions to rush through her—regret, affection, anger, hurt, desire. He made her feel them all, and it weakened her resolve to keep herself safe from him.
“Despite everything, I think of our time together as a gift. I always will. I should have told you that before now.”
She felt tears fill her eyes and quickly blinked them away. Nodding, she tilted her chin toward the large bar in the corner. “How about we get a drink?”
Ty smiled slightly, acknowledging her failure to respond to what he’d said, but he simply nodded and led her toward the bar.