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“Sierra's going shopping,” Kay said.

Predictably, Runtley turned a vivid shade of purple. “I don't pay my reporters to shop in the middle of the afternoon.”

“Got to buy a dress for tonight,” Sierra explained smoothly. “Turns out I'm going to be covering the Crystal Ball.”

Runtley's eyes glittered. “Fontana got you a press pass?”

“Well, actually, I'm going as his wife.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Runtley said. “I keep forgetting. I want photos.”

Phil sauntered toward them from the direction of the men's room. “What's going on?”

“I'll tell you what's going on,” Runtley said, glowing with triumph. “The
Curtain
is covering the Crystal Ball. You're the official photographer.”

“Woo-hoo,” Phil said. “Just like a real newspaper, huh?”

THE CRYSTAL PAVILION WAS AN OVER-THE-TOP TRIBUTE to the twin forces of architectural exuberance and the generous financial backing of the city's wealthiest and most powerful citizens, businesses, and organizations. The interior of the grand ballroom was a glittering, decadent fantasy of sparkling mirrored walls and gleaming marble-and-amber floors. A glass dome arched high overhead. The countless lights of a couple dozen massive chandeliers illuminated the expensively dressed crowd.

Sierra paused in the hallway outside the ladies' room. Her gown was a deceptively simple column of dark green that flowed from throat to ankle, a perfect example of understated elegance. An ingenious arrangement of hidden pleats and a discreet slit allowed freedom of movement. Just the right amount of skin was on display. Tamsyn's contact, Doris, had not failed her.

She was a McIntyre. Because of her family's standing in Resonance, she had attended a great many social events over the years. She knew how to dress for this kind of occasion, so she hadn't been worried about showing up in the wrong gown. But for reasons she could not explain—or perhaps did not want to examine too closely—she had wanted to do Fontana proud. The chiefs of the Guilds always had an uneasy relationship with the mainstream upper crust. Some of them, like Jenner, deserved their unsavory reputations. But her intuition told her that Fontana was a good man. He deserved the respect of his peers here in Crystal.

She spotted him a short distance away, waiting for her. He was talking to a well-dressed, distinguished-looking man in his early forties. Donovan Corley was even more aristocratically handsome in person than he was in newspaper photos and on the evening news. From the discreet touches of gold at his cuffs to his air of bone-deep self-assurance, he practically screamed old money. Corley knew his place in the social order: the top.

Fontana made a fascinating contrast. His formal black and amber evening clothes were every bit as expensively tailored as Corley's. His tux could well have come from the same exclusive shop. But somehow it made him look like a well-dressed assassin rather than a soft, pampered member of the social elite.

At that moment, he glanced toward the doorway and saw her. He smiled; an intimate, possessive, wholly masculine smile of sensual appreciation and pride.

She suddenly felt light and beautiful and utterly feminine. Champagne seemed to be flowing in her veins. She went toward him with a sense of gathering excitement. When she got close, he reached out and pulled her closer still.

“Sierra, I'd like you to meet Donovan Corley,” he said. “Donovan, my wife, Sierra.”

“A pleasure, Sierra,” Donovan said in a voice laced with a prep school accent.

She would have forgiven him the accent if he hadn't leaned on it so deliberately. Two could play at this game.

“Good evening,” she said coolly, letting her own polished heritage gleam through the words. She knew her parents and her brothers would have groaned if they had heard her. “I've been looking forward to meeting you. Are you enjoying yourself?”

She didn't need her psychic intuition to know that she had succeeded in startling Donovan.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fontana's mouth twitch. He swallowed some champagne to drown his amusement.

Donovan recovered immediately.

“I'm enjoying it about as much as I did last year and the year before that,” he said, injecting dry amusement into his ever-so-cultured tones. “What can one say about the Crystal Ball? It is what it is.”

“Very true.” She tucked her hand under Fontana's arm. “Events like this do have a certain sameness about them, don't they? My father complains every year when Mother drags him out to the usual round of charity auctions and fund-raisers.”

Donovan's eyes tightened a little at the corners. “Do your parents live here in Crystal?”

“No, Resonance.”

“I know a lot of people in Resonance,” Donovan said. “And McIntyre is a fairly common name.”

She smiled and said nothing.

Donovan frowned. “I don't suppose there's any connection to Jason McIntyre of McIntyre Industries?”

“My father.”

“I see.” Donovan flicked a quick glance at Fontana. Then he switched his attention back to Sierra. “My apologies. I was under the impression that you were the Sierra McIntyre who works for the
Curtain
?”

“You know my work. I'm flattered.” She gave him her brightest smile.

“No offense, but you aren't quite what I expected.”

“I get that a lot.”

She believed him. He certainly had not expected Fontana to be married to the daughter of a member of his own social class. But she could tell that he was adjusting swiftly, reassigning her to another familiar category, that of a shallow, superficial, self-absorbed woman raised with too much money and indulgence who had decided to entertain herself with a joke of a career and an exciting, dangerous lover. Not an uncommon species in his world.

“You, on the other hand, are exactly what I expected,” she said smoothly. “Care to comment on the rumor that your company discovered an alien lab in the jungle?”

For an instant, Corley simply looked stunned. A second later, his anger sparked. Unfortunately, so did her intuition, warning her that she had been wrong. She hated when that happened.

“That ridiculous, totally unfounded rumor was started by your paper,” he snarled softly. “I believe our lawyers made our position clear.”

“Yes, they did,” Sierra said. “And I apologize for the misunderstanding. However, given UEX's extremely close ties to the former head of the Crystal Guild, I'm sure you can see how such speculation could arise.”

“I don't think I'll dignify that with a response,” he said coldly. “If you'll both excuse me, I'm going to join my wife.”

He turned on his heel and walked off through the crowd.

Fontana raised his brows. “You know, I was getting along fine with Corley until you showed up. What's your secret for pissing people off?”

“It's a talent.”

He snagged a glass of champagne off a passing tray. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don't give me that.” He handed the champagne to her. “You were humming with excitement when you asked Corley for a comment. But as soon as he denied the alien lab rumor, you looked like a kid who just opened a birthday present and discovered a pair of socks.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Sadly, I don't think he's involved in the conspiracy.”

“Don't tell me you believed him.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

Fontana turned watchful. “Why?”

“Just a feeling,” she said carelessly.
The same reason I know you're not involved,
she thought.

A man spoke behind her.

“Good evening, Fontana. Congratulations on your marriage. I hope you will introduce me to your new bride?”

The sudden surge of dark, ominous energy came out of nowhere, searing her senses. For a couple of heartbeats, the glittering room blurred around her. She swayed a little. She had been living with her talent all of her life, but never had she experienced a reaction like this. It was as if someone had suddenly shut her up inside a very small space; a coffin for example.

Terrified that she might lose her balance, she gripped Fontana's arm very tightly with her free hand. His fingers closed over hers instantly, steadying her.

He gave her a quick, searching glance and then turned her slowly to face the newcomer, giving her time to put on a polite smile.

“Sierra, this is Troy Patterson,” he said. “Troy is a member of the Guild Council, as I'm sure you're aware.”

Only years of learning how to control her talent saved her from running, screaming, for the nearest exit. Troy Patterson certainly did not look like a man with cold-blooded murder on his mind. He was handsome in a superficial rez-screen star sort of way: tall, lean, and square-jawed, his smile an engaging cross between sexy and charming. His high, sharply defined cheekbones emphasized gray eyes.

“A pleasure,” she murmured.

Mom, you would be proud. All those years of drilling good manners into your offspring just paid off
.

“Can we dare to hope that the
Curtain
's coverage of the Guild will become a little more positive now that you're a Guild wife?” Troy asked. His engaging grin belied the darkness underneath.

She managed to keep her own smile in place. “I must admit that I'm gaining a new perspective on the organization.”

“Glad to hear it,” Troy said.

Fontana moved slightly. “If you'll excuse us, I'm going to dance with my wife.”

“Of course.” Troy inclined his head graciously to Sierra. “Welcome to the Guild family, Sierra.”

An icy chill flashed through her, leaving all of her senses taut. There was an old saying that described the sensation perfectly:
Like someone just walked across my grave
. But in this case, the grave in question was not her own.

Fontana steered her through the crowd. She did not resist, but she was not in the mood to dance. What she really wanted to do was go back into the ladies' room and throw up. But that would cause gossip.
“Guild Boss's Bride Ill at Ball. Pregnant? Covenant Marriage on Fontana's Agenda?”

Fortunately, the band was playing a slow number that did not require any complicated maneuvers. She could not have handled a tango at that moment.

Fontana pulled her into his arms and guided her into the pattern of the dance.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.” She took a deep breath and forced herself to look like the happy bride. “How long have you known Troy Patterson?”

“Jenner appointed him to the Council a year ago. Before that, he was with one of the smaller, outlying Guilds. Why?”

“Because I'm pretty sure he wants to murder you.”

“HOW DID YOU KNOW?” FONTANA ASKED. HE SOUNDED interested but not alarmed.

That was not quite the reaction she had expected. She stared at him, aghast.

“You
know
he wants to kill you?” she finally managed in a low whisper.

“Let's just say I know he isn't fond of me. Smile. People will think we're arguing.”

“What's going on here, Fontana?”

“Patterson was Jenner's man from the start. I'm almost certain that he was involved in Jenner's scheme, whatever it was.”

“But you told me that every member of the Council voted to allow you to fight that duel with Jenner. That means Patterson agreed to it, too.”

“The rumors circulating about Jenner's corruption were starting to cause real damage to the organization.”

“You mean the Council actually took my stories seriously?” she asked, thrilled.

“You and your paper were considered a nuisance. What really had the Council worried was the fact that the Chamber was looking into the gossip.”

“Oh.” So much for her investigative reporting.

“Everyone knew we had to get rid of Jenner. Any Council member who tried to protect him would have run the risk of being viewed as being as corrupt as Jenner.”

“In other words, Patterson threw his pal Jenner under the bus.”

“Well, sure,” Fontana said. “That's what guys like that do.”

“I know I certainly wouldn't want to depend on Patterson in a pinch.”

“He'd leave a man behind for ghost bait, all right,” Fontana said.

She shuddered. “You're the head of the Guild now. Can't you get rid of him?”

“Forcing a man off the Council is almost as tricky as taking out a Guild boss. It can be done, but I'd rather have him where I can watch him.”

“Ah, yes, the old ‘Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer' rule.”

“That's the plan at the moment.” His hand tightened at her lower back, pulling her closer. “You haven't answered my question.”

“What question?”

“You didn't meet Patterson until this evening, and you only exchanged a few words with him. How did you know he was dangerous?”

A little jolt of unease flickered through her. She'd known this was coming. Fontana saw far too much. He noticed the little things. Still, she might be able to finesse it.

“As I'm sure you're well aware,” she said coolly, “I don't hold a high opinion of anyone on the Guild Council.”

“Sorry, I'm not buying that explanation. You reacted to Patterson before you even saw him. I was holding your arm, remember? I felt the shock that went through you. You picked up something about him on the paranormal plane, didn't you? You're psychic.”