CHAPTER FOUR

Cora

The man had no idea how much of a con she was.

Cora’s insides twisted. Not only was she flat out lying to Vaughn, she was about to show her true colors.

Focus on the job. Six months of hard work have led to this moment.

She straightened, and took his arm.

In the ballroom, over fifty elitist men and their trophy wives stood around, drinking their fill. Some danced on the waxed, tile floor, with a four string quartet in the corner playing classical pieces. But mostly, people drank. And drank some more.

Which was the whole point. Liquor people up enough to open their pocket books wider.

Which would give Cora the diversion she needed.

Portia approached a microphone by the dance floor, and introduced the emcee, some famous auctioneer, who would lead the efforts of selling off some raffle basket with high-end prizes.

Wealthy benefactors and emperors of business who’d donated vacation packages, spa weekends, VIP sports tickets, and more toys meant for the ultra-rich.

The hostess maneuvered her way over to the pair of them, and grinned at Vaughn. “May I ask a favor of you?”

“Certainly.”

“I have another charity event coming up, where we are asking men to volunteer for a bachelor auction. I think you’d be a wonderful addition. Are you willing to donate your time for a good cause?”

Vaughn blinked. “That sounds like…fun. I’ll have to check my schedule.”

Portia grinned. “Wonderful. I’ll follow up with you this weekend. Enjoy the fireworks!” She stepped away, talking to a few people in the crowd.

Cora checked her phone. The timing had to be perfect on this one.

One minute to go.

She tapped Vaughn on the shoulder so he would dip down for a whisper. “I’ll be right back. I have to use the restroom.”

Before she pulled back, he kissed her cheek. The gesture was so intimate, yet so simple, it caught her off guard.

“Hurry back.” The anticipation in his gaze made her heart skip.

Someone else also tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, and Portia Conway stood there again. “Vaughn, one last thing,” she cooed.

Cora held her breath.

“Would you mind terribly being our auctioneer assistant? Just to hold up the certificates and prizes, and hand them out when they’re won? We’re a bit short-handed tonight.” Her grin was way too excited. “A handsome man like you is sure to raise the bidding.”

He glanced around at all the stares, and met Cora’s gaze.

If that woman only knew how much Vaughn charged to be eye-candy.

“Are you all right with that?” he asked.

Actually, that would fit in even better.

Cora grinned, touched his forearm, and turned to Portia. “If you break him, you buy him.”

The hostess chuckled, and she beamed.

As Vaughn left her side, Cora threw him a wink.

Time to go to work.

Vaughn

Approaching the little stage with the crowd staring and clapping made Vaughn’s mind flashback to his cruise ship days. It’d been his job to entertain, to pull people in the middle of a dance floor, and make introductions. He’d never been one to shy away from limelight, but not when this kind of a ploy was underfoot with his client.

Cora had been adamant about playing off this business associate role, and he’d learned it was best to fly a bit under the radar at these events.

The first major rule of being a Knight was discretion.

Center-stage in front of a huge crowd of elitists pushed the boundary of discreet.

“Give a hand to our handsome new assistant,” the auctioneer bellowed into the microphone, and the crowd applauded. “For this man’s valuable talents, we’ll add an additional ten percent to all opening bids.”

Chuckles filtered through the sea of faces in front of Vaughn, to which he just kept smiling. If Cora wanted him to play along and be a performing monkey in a tux, he’d comply.

“Ten percent?” Portia interrupted. “That man’s pecs alone are worth twenty.”

The chuckles turned to laughter. So many smiles stared back at him on the women’s faces, some more suggestive than others. The men looked ambivalent. The ones in the back appeared out-right bored.

The first few items were auctioned off for ridiculously high prices. Several of the women who won had their picture taken with the auctioneer, but Vaughn made sure to keep himself out of them. Another rule as a Knight, no pictures. Not even he could help that. Another item sold off, and he still didn’t see Cora in the crowd.

The lights flickered, and the room went dark.

Even the microphone stopped working.

Murmurs from the crowd spread throughout the room.

“Hang on, folks,” the auctioneer soothed. “It will probably come back on in just a moment.”

But it didn’t.

A good two or three minutes passed, and the room only seemed to grow darker.

Cora.

Vaughn stepped away from the auctioneer, and started looking for her. He’d recognize that dress anywhere, even in the dark. Or her shoes. Those could probably light up all of Dallas. “Caroline?” he called, careful to use her alias.

No answer.

The fire alarms shrilled through the grand house, the echoes piercing off the walls.

“Guess it’s not a drill,” the auctioneer announced. “Everyone, calmly head to the exits, please.”

As everyone made their way out, Vaughn continued to search for Cora.

How long can a quick bathroom break take?

“There you are,” Portia’s nervous voice called out, and she grabbed his arm. “Will you help this poor woman outside? I don’t see so well in the dark these days.”

“Of course. I’m sure this is just a glitch.”

Something shoved her from behind, and the hostess stumbled next to him. She howled, and yanked on his arm to stand up.

“Are you all right?”

The lights flickered back on, and Portia’s flushed face was covered in fear. “I’m being stampeded in my own home!”

Everyone continued to move out the door, but no one seemed rushed. By now they reached the entry way. In the distance, the firetruck siren grew closer.

That was fast.

The older woman continued to rant about getting shoved, but Vaughn kept searching for Cora.

Portia screamed, the cry echoing down the street as she clung to his arm.

“My necklace! It’s gone!” She ran back inside, much more agile than her exit.

The crowd’s murmurs escalated, mingling with the sirens closing in.

He scanned the faces outside, and none of them were Cora’s.

Vaughn opened doors as he passed back through, trying to find the powder room. To find Cora. Door after door led to more rooms, offices, closets, a wine cellar, but no bathroom. He found the kitchen, completely empty, despite counters full of food trays and dirty dishes.

“My necklace!” Portia shouted, her shrill voice easily discernible from the entryway. “It’s gone! Someone stole it!”

“Cora!” he called. Cover name be damned. His client was MIA. He marched to the front of the house, just as three firefighters strolled inside in full gear.

“Is someone missing?” a bulky one asked.

“My date,” Vaughn replied, surging forward to rescan the crowd out front.

“Please clear the building, while we do a search.”

Outside was a flurry of people, flashing lights, and gawking faces. Seconds later, two police cars showed up. They ushered everyone away from the stairs.

“We got an alert from the silent alarm on the security system,” an officer announced. “Where’s the owner?”

“My necklace!” Portia screeched again, her eyes wide and her face now creased with vicious lines of anger. “Someone ripped the jewels right off my neck!”

Vaughn scanned the crowd again.

No Cora.

Where the hell is she?

“When was the last time you remember wearing it?” the police officer asked. “The fire alarms went off, and when I was walking out, someone shoved me.”

“Your silent alarm tripped in the house as well,” the cop replied. “But with your party tonight, did you have your security system running?”

Her eyes widened. “Only my study.” She turned, her gown furling out with the movement. She moved through the house to a door off the entryway, gliding along so much faster than in the ballroom. “This was locked for the party. Someone’s been in here.”

Vaughn had never seen a little old lady turn more vicious in less than two seconds.

“Don’t let anyone leave,” the police officer instructed into the radio on his shoulder. “Keep the guests here. We have a robbery.”

“You!” Portia glared at Vaughn, her tiny finger pointing at him like a poison-tipped dagger. “It had to be you!”

“Me?” He touched his chest.

“You were the last one with me when I had on my necklace,” she explained, her voice so high-pitched, a few windows probably cracked. “And you were searching through these rooms just now.”

“To find Cor— Caroline. My date.”

“Sir, please put up your hands.” The police officer grabbed his arm.

“Wait a minute. I didn’t do anything. I helped you out of that room.”

“Search him!” she barked. “I’m sure he has my necklace in his jacket.”

“Do you have any weapons on you?” the cop asked, and frisked him, emptying his pockets.

“This is ridiculous.” Vaughn seethed and glanced at the ceiling. But he complied. Had nothing to hide.

So much for discretion.

“We need to clear the building,” a fireman announced. “There’s a report of a missing person.”

Then it hit him.

Cora.

Who’d disappeared to the bathroom a few moments before the lights went out.

Another police officer came inside, his face clearly agitated. “The only way to keep all these guests from leaving is to bring them inside. They’re scattering. We need more backup.”

“I can’t let you bring them inside,” the fireman said. “We have to search the house.”

“Sir, I have to detain you until we can sort all this out.” The officer pulled on Vaughn’s hands, cuffing him behind his back.

“You can’t be serious?” he barked. “Check my pockets, I don’t have her damn necklace.”

“Your date?” the fireman interrupted. “Have you located her? What’s her name?”

“Caroline Lake,” Portia answered for him, her voice as accusing as her glare. “No doubt your accomplice.”

He shook his head. “Antiquities, my ass.”