She picked up a small mug of her favorite cappuccino and drank, remembering how she and Stacy had come here to meet up. That had only been a few short months ago, yet it felt like forever had passed since they spent their days avoiding the goons Lenny sent to follow them. Now, whenever they wanted to talk, they curled up on the living room sofa.

Meeting Kiera and Miles had been good, and she hoped the place would be cleaned up when she reached home later. There were several benefits to magic. She kept this to herself, though. Not that she would have had time to tell Spencer because the door jingled with the sound of someone entering, and Amy recognized the woman.

“Hello, Andrea. Thanks for meeting me.”

The middle-aged blonde woman gave Amy a weary smile and sat on the other side of the booth. “No problem. I’m being worked like a plow horse, so I’m glad for a break. Mr. Corbinelli’s event planner called me early this morning, demanding I clear my schedule for this weekend. You can guess what I’ve been up to since. I need the whole menu decided and mapped out by the end of today!”

Amy and Andrea first became friends about a year ago when Amy started her journalism job in the city. Andrea owned a catering company that often worked events held by high-profile city residents. On one particular occasion, Amy had attended an event to write about the food, and she’d spoken to Andrea at length. They’d been friends ever since.

That was one thing Amy had done since starting her job. Try to make friends and connections wherever she went. “You never know when it will come in handy,” she’d told Spencer on the way here.

Spencer was in the adjoining booth, reading a book and sipping coffee. At least, that’s what it looked like. Amy knew he was listening to her and Andrea’s every word.

Amy knew where the event would be held and at what time, but she wanted to know the ins and outs. The trick was asking Andrea to tell her everything without making the woman suspicious. The fewer people who knew what sort of investigation Amy was involved in, the better. She didn’t want to put anyone else in danger.

“I only ask these questions so I can make the best use of my time while I’m there. I’d rather avoid the crowds going in and out,” Amy explained. “Since you’ve catered this place before, can you tell me the best entrances and exits?”

Andrea was more than happy to do so. She shared that the downstairs kitchen entrance would be an easy way for Amy to get in since the only other people there would be herself and the catering team.

“My boss was vague about what exactly the event was,” Amy went on. “I suppose the invitation was vague, too. Do you know what the purpose of it is?”

Andrea laughed. “Mr. Corbinelli loves being mysterious. It’s one thing that makes him so alluring.”

Amy tried not to roll her eyes. “Alluring” was not the word she would have used.

“Some call him our generation’s Gatsby. His parties are often lavish, over-the-top events. This one has to do with art. An auction, perhaps. Something to do with the passing of his personal lawyer and friend Leonard Dubois. A sad thing it is. The two men were close.”

Amy stiffened but tried not to show her true thoughts on her face. She and Stacy were certain Lenny had died because Victor commanded it. Or he’d killed the lawyer himself. She, for one, didn’t consider anyone she’d like to kill a “friend.”

Whatever Victor was doing this weekend, it was a cover for his true operation. She thanked Andrea for the information.

“No problem. Maybe I’ll see you there, though I’ll be quite busy. I’m sure you will be too, Amy. Writing your articles and all.”

“Yes,” Amy mused. “Writing my articles.”

The women fell into idle small talk, then Andrea said she should be heading back to work. With her guest departed, Amy and Spencer left the building and headed to the car. Inside, Amy smiled at him. “Ready to go to a gala?”

She wondered if she was walking into a trap, but maybe she and Stacy could spin this to their advantage.

“Are you asking me to go as your bodyguard or as your date?” Spencer questioned as he pulled the car onto the street.

Amy winked. “Can’t it be both?”

It was mid-afternoon when Kiera entered Stacy’s office, informing her that someone was waiting for her at the gate. “Says he came from your father’s house,” the sidhe fae reported.

Stacy smiled. “That must be Reginald, my father’s butler.”

Kiera raised an eyebrow. “He sent his butler?”

“Regi is more like a grandfather to me. You can let him in, and I’ll be up in a moment.”

Kiera nodded, turning to go.

Stacy strolled through the back garden, appreciating the bright sunlight this afternoon. Her phone call earlier with her father had gone exactly the way she’d expected it to. He’d been alarmed to hear what happened and said he would send people over today to help. In addition, he wanted to “restock the Thorn Pantry of Armament.” Stacy had objected, but her father wouldn’t hear it.

“You need proper ammunition and weapons, not only the old stuff your mother kept there,” he’d explained. Stacy had other battles to attend to, so she agreed. This was why Reginald was here, she thought. To inspect the weapons inventory she already had.

As she expected, she found Reginald in the main hall of the manor house, surveying the destruction with concern. “Ah, Anastasia. I fear things are much worse here than you described to your father.”

Stacy would have rolled her eyes if not for the fact that Regi would have felt disrespected. “My father fusses too much. I am sorry this is your first time being in my home since I’ve moved here. I would have liked you to come under…well, better circumstances.”

Regi kissed her cheeks and finally broke into a smile. “I’m only happy to see you, Anastasia. Esme, Torin, and some of the others will be over soon to help. They are all excited to see you.”

“Well, hopefully, the next time everyone comes over, it can be for dinner and not because werewolves ransacked my home.”

Stacy was joking, but Reginald’s face darkened with anger. She looped her arm through his and led him down the hall. “Tell me. How are things at my father’s house?”

Reginald reported that things were running as well as ever, and everyone was doing well. As always, Khan was often holed up in his library with his “work,” whatever that meant. Khan sometimes left the house and disappeared into the vast forests he owned for some “magical relinquishing” time, which was code for “turning into a dragon to release a build-up of magic.” That was one aspect of her father’s bloodline Stacy was glad she had not yet tapped into.

“I know why you came here,” she told Reginald when he’d finished. “My father wants you to inspect my armory.”

“I also came to speak with Rowan. Is he here?”

“He hardly ever leaves.” Stacy paused. “Why do you need to speak with him?”

“He is in charge of the security here, correct?”

Stacy sighed. “He did everything he could, Regi, and he feels terrible about what happened. Please don’t give him a hard time.”

He offered a soft, grandfatherly smile. “I wasn’t going to lecture him, Anastasia. I was going to give him some…light encouragement.”

This time, Stacy did roll her eyes. “You’re using my father’s rhetoric.”

He chuckled while stepping over shards of glass from broken picture frames. “You should get that swept up, Anastasia.”

“No shit.”

“You’re lucky your father didn’t come. He’d be furious about your language.”

Stacy grinned. “He doesn’t have to know. As for Rowan, he’s been in a secret library of my mother’s I found this morning. I don’t think he knew about it, and he’s taking the revelation a bit hard. You should find him there when we finish our tasks.”

On the way to the lower floor where the armory was, Reginald rattled off a list of things Esme, Torin, and other members of the Drakethorn estate staff would help with today. “You should have a working kitchen by tonight, at least.”

“Good,” Stacy replied, looking dubious. “I don’t know if Rowan can handle us ordering takeout again.”