“I never told you my full name,” he said slowly. “Leonidas Gianakos...Niarxos.”
He stared down at her, waiting. A faint warning bell rang at the back of her head. She couldn’t quite remember where she’d heard it before. From the butler at the front door? Or before that? She repeated, “Niarxos?”
“Yes.” And still he waited, watching her. As if he expected some reaction.
“Oh.” Feeling awkward, she said, “So who is this fundraiser for?”
Looking relieved, he named a politician she’d vaguely heard of. She looked around the gilded ballroom. This party was very fancy, that was for sure. She saw people she recognized. Actors. Entrepreneurs. And even—she sucked in her breath. A world-famous artist, which impressed her most of all.
What was Daisy even doing here, with all these chic, glamorous people, people she should properly only read about in magazines or social media, or see on the big screen?
“How—” she began, then her throat dried up.
Across the ballroom, she saw someone else she recognized. Someone she’d glared at every day for a month. Someone she’d never, ever forget. A gray-haired villain in a suit.
Edgar Ross.
The lawyer who’d called the police on her father. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been sitting behind the prosecutor in the courtroom. A ruthless lawyer who worked for an even more ruthless boss, some foreign-born billionaire.
“Daisy?” Leo looked down at her, his handsome face concerned. “What is it?”
“It’s... It’s... What is he—”
At that moment, Edgar Ross himself came over to them, with a pretty middle-aged blonde on his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Niarxos.”
Daisy’s lips parted as Leo greeted the man with a warm handshake. “Good evening.” He gave the blonde a polite peck on the cheek. “Mrs. Ross.”
“It’s a great party. Thanks for inviting us.” Edgar Ross smiled vaguely at Daisy, as if he were trying to place her.
She stared back coldly, shaking with the effort it took not to slap him, wishing she’d taken a glass of champagne after all, so she could throw it in his face. Including the glass.
“Admiring your most recent acquisition?” Ross asked Leo. For a moment, Daisy thought he meant her. Then she realized he was referring to the painting on the wall.
He shrugged. “It’s an investment.”
“Of course,” Ross said, smiling. “It will just have to hold you, until we can find that Picasso, eh?”
The Picasso.
It all clicked horrifyingly into place. Daisy suddenly couldn’t breathe.
Edgar Ross.
The Picasso.
The wealthy billionaire reported to be behind it all. The Greek billionaire.
Leonidas Niarxos.
In the background, the orchestra continued to play, and throughout the ballroom, people continued to talk and laugh. As if the world hadn’t just collapsed.
Daisy slowly turned with wide, stricken eyes.
“Leo,” she choked out, feeling like she was about to faint. Feeling like she was about to die.
He looked down at her, then his expression changed. “No,” he said in a low voice. “Daisy, wait.”
But she was already backing away. Her knees were shaking. The high heel of her shoe twisted, and she barely caught herself from falling.