Page 145 of Ricardo

I am wearing a navy dress and low heels. My hair is smooth. My makeup is careful. My face does not betray that I spent yesterday afternoon, last night, and part of this morning in Ricardo Conti’s bed.

At least, I hope it does not.

Ricardo is elsewhere on this floor.

I know that all too clearly.

I know where his office sits in relation to this room. I know the sound of his voice when it carries down the executive corridor. I know the way his mouth looked this morning when he told me to eat my breakfast quickly.

And I remember very clearly what it looked like when it was glistening between my legs.

I force my attention back to the list.

The gala is important. More important than I understood at first. It is the two-year anniversary of Conti Enterprises in Chicago.

It is a celebration of two years in the city. A public statement that Conti Enterprises is no longer arriving.

It is already here.

Mario understands optics better than most men I have known in politics.

That alone makes him interesting.

He sits at the head of the table in a charcoal suit, composed and quiet, asking questions only when he needs to. Lorenzo has returned to the table and sits to his right, relaxed in a way that fools no one who is paying attention. Patrice has the event packet in front of her, color-coded and immaculate. Owen handles public relations.

“So,” Owen says, turning another page, “for the political table, we have Alderman Greer, State Senator Halbrook, Judge O’Brien if he accepts—”

My pen pauses for half a second, but I force myself to continue writing.

“—Deputy Commissioner Wells,” Owen continues, “Councilman Deveraux, and Frank Calhoun.”

I look up at that.

Frank Calhoun.

I stare at the printed list.

There he is, halfway down the page, nestled between harmless names.

Franklin J. Calhoun.

Former deputy chief of staff to Governor Ellis. Current senior advisor at the Great Lakes Civic Growth Fund. Occasional columnist. Frequent donor. Publicly, a reform-minded bridge between business and government.

Privately, a major liability.

My pulse picks up.

I keep my face still.

Owen is still talking. “Calhoun has strong redevelopment relationships, especially around South Harbor and the west side infrastructure donors, so he could be useful if Conti Enterprises is positioning itself as a long-term civic partner.”

“No,” I say before I can stop myself.

The room quiets.

Owen looks up. “No?”

I feel Mario’s attention settle on me, interested.