Deliah pushed open the heavy doors to the backstage area of the Lincoln Center. The room was a chaotic blur of models, makeup artists, and clothes.
She threw her coat over a chair and shoved an earpiece into her ear. Her mind instantly shifted into work mode.
Mara, the coordinator, ran up to her, shoving a clipboard into her hands. "They changed the lineup."
Deliah scanned the paper, her eyes sharp. She started barking orders, adjusting the structural set pieces and the spatial flow of the runway with absolute precision.
Leo sat quietly on a prop box in the corner, wearing noise-canceling headphones, his fingers flying across his laptop keyboard.
Outside the Lincoln Center, a fleet of black SUVs ignored the traffic cones and pulled right up to the edge of the red carpet.
Bodyguards jumped out and opened the door. Everette stepped onto the pavement. His face was a storm of dark fury. The flashing cameras of the paparazzi instantly went dead as the photographers shrank back from his aura.
Security guards rushed to clear a private path for him.
Everette strode into the glamorous lobby of the venue. His eyes swept over the crowd of socialites and billionaires, dismissing them instantly.
He pushed through the VIP section. Then, near the entrance to the backstage hallway, he caught a flash of a black suit and the faint scent of citrus.
Everette shoved past two Wall Street executives and marched straight for the hallway.
Two massive security guards in sunglasses stepped in front of the door, crossing their arms. "Staff only, sir."
Everette's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Move."
The guards sweated under his stare, but they didn't budge.
Joshua ran up behind Everette, grabbing his arm. "Mr. Baird, please. The press is everywhere. If you force your way in, Baird Capital's stock will tank by morning."
Everette closed his eyes. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He forced the violent urge down.
He opened his eyes, gave the door one last chilling look, and turned toward the stairs leading to the second-floor VIP suites.
He entered a private suite that overlooked the entire venue. He sat in the shadows, a panther waiting in the dark.
Down below, the lights dimmed. The heavy bass of the music shook the glass. The fashion show began.
Everette didn't look at the clothes. His eyes were glued to the backstage exit.
He pulled out his phone. "Joshua. Get me the background check on Deliah Buck. Now."
Half an hour later, the show ended. The head designer didn't come out for a bow. Everette's frown deepened.
The lights came back up. The announcer invited the VIP guests to the Showroom for pre-orders.
Everette stood up, adjusting his cuffs. He was going down there.
Just as his hand touched the doorknob, the door swung open from the outside. A sickeningly sweet wave of perfume hit his face.
A woman in a revealing haute couture dress swayed into the room.
Everette's stomach turned. It was Arvilla Quinn.
