King Of Wrath

King Of Wrath

Ep 1

“I

can’t believe he’s here. He never comes to these things unless

it’s hosted by a friend…”

“Did you see he bumped Arno Reinhart down a spot on the

Forbes Billionaires list? Poor Arnie nearly had a meltdown in the middle of

Jean-Georges when he found out…”

The whispers started halfway through the Frederick Wildlife Trust’s

annual fundraiser for endangered animals.

This year, the small, sand-colored piping plover was the alleged star of

the show, but none of the gala’s two hundred guests were discussing the

bird’s welfare over their Veuve Clicquot and caviar cannoli.

“I heard his family’s villa in Lake Como is undergoing a one-hundred-

million dollar renovation. The place is centuries old, so I suppose it’s

time…”

Each whisper grew in intensity, accompanied by furtive glances and the

occasional dreamy sigh.

I didn’t turn to see who had the normally cool-as-ice members of

Manhattan high society in such a tizzy. I didn’t really care. I was too

focused on a certain department store heiress as she tottered toward the

swag table in sky-high heels. She quickly glanced around before swiping

one of the personalized gift bags and dropping it in her purse.

The minute she walked off, I spoke into my earpiece. “Shannon, Code

Pink at the swag table. Find out whose bag she took and replace it.”

Tonight’s bags each contained over eight thousand dollars’ worth of

swag, but it was easier to fold the cost into the event budget than confront

the Denman’s heiress.

My assistant groaned over the line. “Tilly Denman again? Doesn’t she

have enough money to buy everything on that table and have millions left

over?”

“Yes, but it’s not about the money for her. It’s the adrenaline rush,” I

said. “Go. I’ll order bread pudding from Magnolia Bakery tomorrow to

make up for the strenuous task of replacing the gift bag. And for God’s

sake, find out where Penelope is. She’s supposed to be manning the gift

station.”

“Ha ha,” Shannon said, obviously picking up on my sarcasm. “Fine. I’ll

check on the gift bags and Penelope, but I expect a big tub of bread pudding

tomorrow.”

I laughed and shook my head as the line cut off.

While she took care of the gift bag situation, I circled the room and kept

an eye out for other fires, large or small.

When I first went into business, it felt weird working events I would

otherwise be invited to as a guest. But I’d gotten used to it over the years,

and the income allowed me a small degree of independence from my

parents.

It wasn’t part of my trust fund, nor was it my inheritance. It was money

I’d earned, fair and square, as a luxury event planner in Manhattan.

I loved the challenge of creating beautiful events from scratch, and

wealthy people loved beautiful things. It was a win-win.

I was double-checking the sound setup for the keynote speech later that

night when Shannon rushed toward me. “Vivian! You didn’t tell me he was

here!” she hissed.

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