"Discretion is the better part of valor." - William Shakespeare

Saint

I watched as Veronica excused herself from the group and headed towards the ladies' room. "She's taking a short break before the auction," I murmured into my comm. "Keep an eye on her, Max. I want a visual on her at all times."

"Copy that," Max replied. "I've got her. She's just entering the restroom now. No one else is following her."

Good. I needed to make my rounds, ensure that everything was in place for the auction. The change in schedule had thrown me slightly, but nothing I couldn't handle. A fifteen-minute shift wasn't going to derail my operation. I trusted my team; they were the best in the business. We had contingency plans for every possible scenario. Or so I thought.

I moved through the crowd, subtly scanning faces, observing body language. Everything seemed normal. The guests were milling about, chatting, enjoying the pre-auction cocktails. Marcus was working the room, charming potential donors, his charisma as potent as ever. He was good at what he did, I'll give him that. A valuable asset to Veronica and her foundation.

I reached the entrance to the side room where the auction was to be held. My team had already set up the stage, the display cases for the auction items, the seating arrangements. Everything was perfect. I checked in with Jake, who was overseeing the security inside the auction room. "All clear, Jake?"

"Yes, Mr. Stone," he replied. "We've swept the room, checked all the exits. Everything is secure."

"Good," I said. "Keep your eyes peeled. I want no surprises."

"Understood, sir."

I stepped back into the main ballroom, my gaze drifting towards the ladies' room. Max's voice crackled in my earpiece. "She's still in there, Mr. Stone. Just taking her time."

"Acknowledged," I replied. I knew Veronica. She needed these moments, these brief respites from the constant scrutiny. It was a pressure I could only imagine. To be constantly in the public eye, every move dissected, every word analyzed. It was a life I would never choose.

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I glanced at my watch. The auction was about to begin. I needed to get into position, near the stage, where I could keep an eye on Veronica and Marcus. As I started to move, Max's voice came again, his tone suddenly sharp, urgent.

"Mr. Stone, we have a problem. Veronica… she's not alone in the restroom."

My blood ran cold. "What do you mean she's not alone? Who's with her?"

"I don't know, sir. I can't see clearly. There's someone else in there, but they're obscured from my view."

"Damn it," I muttered. "Get me a visual, Max. I need to know who's with her."

"I'm trying, sir. But…" His voice trailed off.

"Max, report!" I barked, my patience wearing thin.

"Mr. Stone… it's the man from the bar. The one who was watching her earlier. He's with her."

My gut twisted. The man from the bar. I had a bad feeling about him from the start. He hadn't fit in, his demeanor too sharp, too intense. And now he was in the ladies' room with Veronica, just minutes before the auction was about to begin. "Max, what are they doing? Can you hear anything?"

"No, sir. It's muffled. I can't make out any conversation."

"Stay put," I instructed. "Don't approach. I'm on my way."

I moved quickly, weaving through the crowd, my eyes fixed on the entrance to the ladies' room. My mind raced, trying to anticipate the situation. What did this man want with Veronica? Was he a threat? A stalker? Or something worse? I reached the door, pausing briefly to compose myself. I couldn't afford to go in there guns blazing, not without knowing what I was walking into. Discretion, as Shakespeare wisely said, was the better part of valor. I took a deep breath, adjusted my earpiece, and pushed open the door.

The ladies' room wasn't empty. Veronica was there, standing near the sinks, talking to the man from the bar. He was close, too close, leaning in as he spoke, his expression intense. I didn't recognize him. He was well-dressed, but there was something about him that made me uneasy. Veronica, however, seemed to know him. Her expression was a mix of annoyance and… something else. Fear? Resignation? I couldn't quite place it. They talked for a few more moments, the man gesturing animatedly, Veronica listening intently. Then, she crossed her arms, her posture stiffening, and said something I couldn't hear. The man's expression shifted, a flicker of something – anger? Disappointment? – crossing his face. He nodded curtly, turned, and walked away, exiting the ladies' room. Veronica watched him go, her expression unreadable. I continued to pretend to adjust my tie, giving her a moment before making my presence known. She turned towards the mirror, taking a deep breath, and I could see her shoulders relax slightly. It was my cue. "Everything alright, Ms. Bennett?" I asked, my voice casual, as if I'd just happened to walk in.

She turned, a small, practiced smile forming on her lips. "Yes, Mr. Stone, everything's fine," she replied, her voice steady. Too steady. I could see the tension lingering in her eyes, the subtle tremor in her hand as she reached for her compact. "Just needed a moment to myself before the auction," she added, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror. "Ready to get started?"

"Whenever you are, Ms. Bennett," I said, my voice carefully neutral. I knew she wasn't telling me the whole truth, but I also knew better than to push. Whatever had transpired between her and that man, it was clear she wasn't ready to share it. And that, for the moment, would have to be enough. "The auction room is ready when you are."

She nodded, closing her compact with a snap. "Let's go," she said, her smile brightening, the mask firmly back in place. As we walked out of the ladies' room and back into the bustling ballroom, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was… different. But as I watched her confidently take the stage, the spotlight finding her, I knew one thing for sure: whatever it was, Veronica Bennett was ready. And so was I. It was showtime.