Page 40 of A Mistake of Identity
He didn’t miss the predatory grin Nika flashed toward Alain, or the way Alain determinedly looked anywhere else, snatching another champagne flute from a passing tray.
Patricia gave an indignant harrumph at being dismissed but walked away without further inquiry, back to her society ladies, no doubt to spread the gossip she had learned.
The moment was broken by a server offering hors d’oeuvres. Ellis’ sudden flush and wide eyes told Gabriel everything before the server even opened his mouth.
“Moving up in the world, eh, Ellis? I was sad to hear about the Heart Court shutdown.” The server snickered, glancing between Ellis and Gabriel’s possessive grip on his hip.
Nika’s expression turned dangerous. “Should you wish to maintain your employment here, that will be your last word of the evening.” The server paled and scurried away.
“Thank you,” Ellis murmured, tense against Gabriel’s side.
“Not a problem,” Nika shrugged before turning to Gabriel. “Mind if I borrow Alain for a moment?”
“I mind,” Alain said immediately, draining his champagne.
Nika ignored the protest, already steering Alain away. “Wasn’t actually asking. Come along.”
“I need to stay with—” Alain’s protests faded as Nika practically dragged him across the room.
Gabriel stared after them, baffled by the exchange. When had Nika and Alain become close?
The whispers had grown more noticeable, and he could feel Ellis’ discomfort mounting. “Shall we check out the silent auction in the second ballroom?”
The second ballroom had been transformed into a showcase of wealth and excess. Display cases lined the perimeter, their lights catching the facets of rare gems and designer pieces—more fine jewelry than most boutiques carried. Antique furniture dotted the floor alongside modern art installations, while luxury vehicles gleamed under perfectly positioned spotlights. Local artists’ works hung on temporary walls, their current bids suggesting they weren’t struggling painters from the Fourth Cat.
Interactive screens were mounted throughout the space, displaying high-resolution images and detailed specifications of items too large to fit within the ballroom or too abstract. Potential bidders could swipe through multiple angles of luxury yachts, examine architectural plans for vacation properties, and scroll through box seats at local venues. Modern Rolls Royces and Mercedes shared physical space in the ballroom, while million-dollar classics like the 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO and 1937 Bugatti Type 57SC Atlantic rotated in perfect digital detail on nearby screens.
It was on one of these screens that Gabriel found the Fountaine Pajot Tanna 47 catamaran listing—the company owner hoping to make inroads into the local market where the brand hadn’t yet gained traction. Currently docked at slip #8 in the marina, the vessel was a beauty, easily worth over a million. The interactive display allowed him to examine every detail, from the spacious suites to the latest navigation systems.
While Ellis was distracted by a display of vintage wines, Gabriel quickly scanned the QR code and entered a bidhigh enough to discourage competition. He opted for outbid notifications, though he knew they wouldn’t be necessary.
“I’ve never been to a soccer game,” Ellis mused, studying the box seat offering for PDC Soccer Club’s upcoming season.
Gabriel immediately scanned the code, making his bid.
“Must be nice,” Ellis said, shaking his head, smiling fondly, “having all that money to throw around.”
“It isn’t his money to throw around.” Maximilien’s cold voice cut through their moment. “It’s the family’s.”
“My trust fund from grandfather. My salary as CEO. Both are mine to spend as I choose,” Gabriel said coolly.
Maximilien grunted. “Everything handed to you on a silver platter.”
“Just as it was handed to you,” Gabriel countered. “Or have you forgotten it was your great-great-grandfather who came here in the 1800s? Third son of French nobility who started La Sauvegarde with old-world money. You’ve done little, but maintain what generations before you built.”
“How dare you—” Maximilien’s face flushed with anger.
“Perhaps we could go outside?” Ellis suggested quietly, touching Gabriel’s arm. “I’d love to see the boats.”
Maximilien’s gaze snapped to Ellis, recognition dawning. He let out a harsh laugh. “Ah, now I remember. Really, Gabriel? Buying a whore from that shuttered brothel to escort you to society events?”
Gabriel went rigid, his mind racing at his father’s knowledge of Heart Court. “Ellis is not a whore. He’s my boyfriend, my partner. And he isn’t going anywhere.” Beside him, Ellis flushed from ear tip to shirt collar.
Maximilien studied Ellis with new interest, something calculating in his expression. “We’ll see,” he said before turning away.
Gabriel was still seething when Alain approached, his collar slightly askew and his usual pristine appearance somewhat disheveled.
“Where the hell have you been?” Gabriel snapped.
