“Donald,” he said, laughing even though nothing funny had been said.
Both men still laughed, smiling at the infectiousness of Adrian’s smile and laugh, even behind the mask. “Good to see you,” Donald said, gripping Adrian’s arm and shaking his hand firmly.
“Listen,” Adrian said a few minutes later, as if he was sharing a candid secret. “I know getting the team to agree to change direction is going to be like pulling teeth, but we can handle it. You know what I say about dental work? Sedate the shit out of me and get it over with.”
Donald looked curious. “You know, there’s nothing I hate more than the dentist. I’ve never considered sedation.”
Adrian nodded. “They’ll do it even for a routine cleaning at some places. You can just call up and ask if it’s an option.” He shrugged, as if he didn’t realize how relevant his little factoid was to Donald, who had a dentist appointment tomorrow and was terrified. “Obviously we can’t give the web design team laughing gas, so we sedate them with bonuses. Nobody complains right after they get a bonus.”
Donald nodded. “We’ve got extra money in the coffers right now. There’d be enough to pull that off, certainly.”
Adrian nodded, and I had a feeling he knew exactly how much “money was in the coffers”. He gave Donald another friendly squeeze on the shoulder, then smiled. “If anybody asks me, it was your idea.”
Donald laughed richly. “You’re good people, Adrian.”
I could see from the glint in Donald’s eyes as we left that Adrian had completely won the man over. He’d probably go to war for Adrian if he ever needed it.
“You’re incredible at this,” I said.
Adrian fixed his tie. “But it builds up an appetite.”
“There’s a table with some appetizers over there.”
“I was thinking more about the all you can eat buffet,” he said.
I looked around. “I don’t see one of those.”
Adrian stepped closer. He put his hands on my hips and all the internal fireworks went off at once. My body’s reaction to him was instinctual. One touch and I was primed and ready to go.
“Is that a good idea?” I asked.
Before he could answer, a tall, broad man I recognized with or without the mask approached us. Almost everyone else was wearing a simple mask to cover the space around their eyes and a fraction of their nose. It was hardly a disguise and more of a decoration. My mask, I hoped, would function as a complete disguise because it covered much more of my face. I still had to fight the urge to lift my hands to my face and cower
“Mr. Coleton,” Adrian said, sticking his hand out for a handshake.
My father ignored the gesture. “I didn’t realize you would bring a friend,” my father said. He had a cold, craggy voice that was also soft enough to force people to quiet down to hear him. I always noticed how much power that understated voice gave him. Every word could feel like a threat, and nobody doubted he had the means to carry out any promise.
“This is Sandra,” Adrian said. It was the name we’d agreed upon, along with a backstory that we both knew so people couldn’t trip us up if it became an issue.
My father nodded. “Why don’t the two of you join me upstairs? I flew in my favorite chef from Tokyo. He’s cooking some wagyu steaks for us. You two need to try it, it’s delicious.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Adrian said. But he sounded stiffer than he had before. He was worried just like I was. I don’t think either of us had wanted to rub shoulders with my father for an extended period. Passing as a stranger behind a mask for a brief conversation was one thing but surviving a sit down meal without giving myself away would be another task entirely.
We went upstairs and moved away from the murmur of voices on the lower level. There was a half balcony section overlooking the party below. A chef had a cooktop set up where several men and women were sitting on stools with plates in front of them. People wordlessly moved and cleared three seats in a row when they saw my father approaching with us.
I winced when my father decided to sit right beside me. He was wearing a black feathered mask that covered his eyes and almost none of his long, hooked nose.
The chef set down some sizzling cuts of raw, marbled meat in front of us on the cooktop. It crackled, immediately releasing a delicious scent. He followed the meat with a few knobs of butter, which he tossed on the cooktop and followed with a pile of vegetables.
“So,” my father said. “I’ve heard from people I trust that Adrian here is very picky with his women. The rumor is he hasn’t so much as dated in years. I wonder what magical charm a creature would need to have to seduce him?”