CHAPTER THIRTY-THREEELARAThe Winter Charity Gala was the kind of event where old money wore new diamonds and pretended not to notice who was watching. Manhattan's finest, dressed in black tie and quiet desperation to be seen caring about children's hospitals. The Plaza's ballroom was a gold-and-crystal fever dream, chandeliers dripping light onto tables draped in ivory, centerpieces so tall you had to lean sideways to see the person across from you.I wore emerald green. Julian had mentioned once, in passing, that it was his favorite color. I hadn't forgotten. The dress was silk, floor length, with a slit that made me feel both elegant and slightly dangerous. Maya had helped me pick it out, insisting I needed something that said "I'm not just his wife, I'm a whole damn event.""You look like you belong at the head of the room," Julian said, adjusting his cufflinks in the hallway mirror. He was in black tie, of course, the kind of man who made a tuxedo look like it had been invented
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