Arthur Vance followed three paces behind me, holding his thick black leather binder against his ribs with both hands.

Christopher Pembroke sat near the middle of the table, his eyes narrowed slightly as if he’d just smelled spoiled milk.

He turned his head first, catching sight of my military dress uniform before anyone else noticed us.

Victoria stopped in the middle of her speech, her hand frozen mid-gesture in the air.

“Avery,” Victoria said, her voice dropping an octave into a razor-sharp edge.

“I thought you’d been told this was a private gathering for active commercial investors.”