Eva caught up to her as she was halfway to the door.
"The party's not over," she said coldly.
"I know, but I have an early shoot tomorrow."
"This is an important event. Papillon is one of the sponsors and Chrysalis should be properly represented."
"Don't worry, Mother. I shook all the right hands and smiled at all the right people."
Eva's lips thinned with contempt. "I suppose you have a late date."
"That's none of your business."
"Nothing is different," Eva said in a low, razor-sharp voice. "You still have no sense of morality or obligation."
"Isn't it nice to know some things never change?" Miranda said, her smile unwavering. "Good night, Mother."
* * *
It was cool out but not unpleasantly so. She could even smell the green fragrance of spring on the sighing breath of a light breeze. The only thing that spoiled the evening was a quick glimpse of Bob Breverman, lurking just a few yards past the hotel.
The doorman started to whistle for a cab but Miranda waved it away. It was only a short walk to the apartment she was renting and besides, she needed the exercise. Paris was a city of walkers; New York was a place where you took a taxi, even if you were only going half a dozen blocks. Maybe she'd join a gym. Or take up running. Something. Anything. She didn't want to put on weight.
Didn't want time to hang heavy on her hands because when it did, she ended up thinking.
About Conor and what he'd done to her, taking away her friends, her home, all the things that had been her life.
About how it had been between them, that night. That one fantastic night, when almost anything had seemed possible.
That awful night, when she'd come painfully close to making a complete fool of herself.
A horn blared and she almost jumped out of her skin as a taxi squealed to a halt only a couple of feet away. The driver leaned out his window, cursing her in some language she'd never heard before. Other horns blared as she zigzagged through the traffic.
Terrific. If she wasn't careful, she'd end up not on the society pages tomorrow or even on the gossip pages, but as a front page headline.
Famous Model Finds Fate on Fifth.
Eva would probably love the publicity.
Miranda stepped up on the curb and made her way to the entrance to her apartment building. At the last
second, she came to a dead stop. Call-Me-Bob Breverman was right on schedule, following her so closely that he almost crashed into her as she turned and confronted him.
"Good evening, Mr. Breverman," she said politely. "Lovely night for walking, isn't it?"
Breverman flushed. "This is a foolish game, Miss Beckman."
"Perhaps. But it's my game and I enjoy playing it. You can go home and get some rest, Mr. Breverman. I promise, I'm not going out anymore tonight. I'll be locked up, safe and snug, until eight tomorrow morning."
One last smile and then she walked briskly to the entrance.
The doorman touched his cap in greeting, the door swung open, and Miranda stepped inside the lobby.
* * *
Conor, watching from the shadows, cursed under his breath.
He waited until the door closed after her. Then he strolled across the street to Bob Breverman's side.