“And why not? It’s your vineyard,” Melanie replied with a grin. “I’d like you to meet Katherine. She’s Dominic’s friend. Katherine Hart, Gretchen Calder.”

After courtesies had been exchanged, Melanie offered a brief account of Kate’s activities for Knight Enterprises. “Katherine did some consulting work for Dominic and tracked down a good deal of money that had been stolen from Knight Enterprises. Thanks to her expertise, it was returned. She’s from your alma mater; you might have had professors in common. I think you’ll be more interested in each other than anyone else here tonight. Refills anyone? No… then, I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Melanie should be a cruise director,” Gretchen said as Dominic’s sister walked away. “But she’s right. Most of these people here are incredibly boring.” She grinned. “How rude is that? Tell me about the stolen money.”

Kate explained the Bucharest issue in broad terms and answered a few more detailed questions; the two women compared notes on illicit banking and the dark market. Both spoke the same obscure language, worked in the same free-wheeling, tech-savvy world where unhindered creativity was the bible and code vulnerabilities and encrypted operating systems were chapter and verse. In fact, they got along so famously, Kate readily accepted an invitation to lunch. “I’ll give you a call when I know Dominic’s schedule,” she said.

“Anytime. I’ll show you my operation.” Gretchen smiled. “And my baby. I bring her to work with me.”

“Sweet. The modern workplace in action.”

“It helps when you’re part owner.”

They spoke for a few more minutes about Gretchen’s baby girl, who was eight months old and already recognized pictures and words on the computer screen. Then when two other women joined them, Kate chatted for a few minutes more before excusing herself.

Dominic was right. When she reached the top of the stairs, the children’s high-pitched voices echoed down the hallway. Following the sound, Kate came to a stop in the open doorway of what was obviously a young girl’s room. Decorated in soft pink and apple green, a large canopied bed held center stage, framed posters dotted the walls, clothes were strewn everywhere, and a noisy game of chess was in progress.

Kate’s gaze zeroed in on the women seated on either side of Dominic. The trio was on the bed, the women framing Dominic like matching bookends. Both blond, one with a tawny mane of hair, the other with frothy curls the color of pale dandelion down, their long-legged, elegant bodies were smoothed into wool slacks and tiny cashmere sweaters that showcased their perfect boobs, not too big, not too small—like they were special ordered to accommodate their form-fitting sweaters. Large diamond studs sparkled in their ears and the scent of their perfume was heady even at a distance.

They were as perfect as first-rate orthodontists, personal trainers, and cosmetologists could conceive, both women resplendently artificial with almost a plastic quality to their collective improvements. That they could have been clones for a thousand other expensively put together women was a bitchy judgment call, but nevertheless true. Neither woman had the smallest spark of vitality.

Ah—except for that.

One of the women was staring at her with squinty-eyed menace.

Whether that belligerent glance came with an audible sidebar or whether some random protective instinct kicked in, Dominic suddenly looked up.

He smiled. “Hi, baby. Come on in.” He patted his knee. “Sit with me.”

The chess table had been drawn up to the bed, Dominic and the women on one side, Nicole sitting opposite on a pink frilly chair, the other children either sitting or standing around the table, watching and kibitzing.

Dominic politely said, “Excuse me,” to the woman on his left, indicating that she move, then raised his arms to Kate as she approached.

The tawny-haired blonde moved a minimum of six inches; Dominic frowned slightly, but didn’t speak other than to whisper, “Missed you, baby,” as he pulled Kate onto his lap.

“And you are?” the sleek blonde said, scowling at Kate.

“Katherine, this is Charlie and”—Dominic nodded to his right—“Angela.”

“Don’t ask,” Charlie said, her smile cool. “It’s a family name.”

That wasn’t what she was going to ask. Kate was going to ask what she thought she was doing sitting so close to Dominic she was giving him friction burns. But Nana wouldn’t approve if she was openly rude so she said, “Nice name,” and smiled instead.

“Are you from around here?” Angela’s gaze was arctic.

Kate shook her head. “No.”

A pursed mouth, a calculating up and down look. “Where are you from?”

Kate debated for a second, tempted to say Mars. “Minnesota and Boston mostly.”

Angela raised one perfectly plucked and dyed eyebrow. “Harvard?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so,” the frothy blonde said with a jeering smile. “What do you do?”

“I work in IT.”

“Is that how you know Dominic? You worked for him?” Angela’s emphasis on the verb suggested that work was for those poor souls without substantial trust funds.

Really, Nana, do I have to be nice? Kate inwardly sighed. “Yes, I worked on a project for him.”

Dominic glanced up from the chess board while Nicole was deciding on her next move and put an end to the rude interrogation. “I’d like Katherine to become involved in the company full time, but she won’t. She wants to be independent. Isn’t that so, baby?” He brushed her cheek with his fingers in a small reverential gesture. “I’m trying to talk her out of it. I’d like her to stay with me and make me happy instead. So far, no luck. But I’m not giving up.”