"The devil is in the details." - Unknown

Saint

The auction had been a resounding success. Veronica was radiant, Marcus charming, and the donations far exceeded their projections. On the surface, everything was perfect. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The encounter in the ladies' room, the brief but intense conversation between Veronica and the man from the bar… it bothered me. I hadn't been able to hear what they were saying, but I had seen the shift in Veronica's demeanor afterward. The forced smile, the slight tremor in her hand. She was shaken.

I watched as she mingled with the remaining guests, accepting congratulations, posing for photos. She was playing her role to perfection, but I knew better. I knew the mask she wore, the shield she used to protect herself from the world. And I knew that something had pierced it tonight.

I discreetly signaled to Max, who was positioned near the exit. "Find him," I instructed through the comm. "The man from the bar. I want to know where he went."

"Copy that," Max replied. "He left a while ago, Mr. Stone. I can check security footage, see if I can track him."

Good. I needed answers. I needed to understand what had transpired between him and Veronica. Was he a threat? A stalker? Or something else entirely? The uncertainty was a knot in my stomach.

I made my way over to Marcus, who was deep in conversation with a potential donor. He excused himself with a polite smile and turned to me. "Another successful evening, Saint," he said, extending his hand. "Veronica was brilliant, as always."

"Indeed," I replied, shaking his hand. "The donations were exceptional."

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"She has a way with people," Marcus said, his gaze following Veronica as she moved through the crowd. "A true gift."

"She does," I agreed. "But I'm concerned about her."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Concerned? Why?"

"I saw her talking to a man in the ladies' room earlier," I said, lowering my voice. "The man from the bar. He seemed… intense."

Marcus frowned. "I didn't see that. Who was he?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful, a flicker of something in his eyes that looked distinctly like worry. "Keep me posted," he said. "Veronica… she's a good friend, and she doesn't need any more stress in her life."

"Of course," I replied. "I understand."

I excused myself and moved towards the edge of the ballroom, where I could observe without being conspicuous. I watched Veronica, her every move, her every interaction. She was so good at this, at pretending everything was fine. But I knew better. I had seen the cracks in the mask, the glimpses of vulnerability beneath the surface.

A few minutes later, Max's voice crackled in my earpiece. "I've got something, Mr. Stone. The security footage shows him leaving the hotel about an hour ago. He got into a black SUV, license plate…" He rattled off a series of numbers and letters. "I'm running it now. I'll let you know what I find."

"Acknowledged," I replied. "Good work, Max."

I glanced at my watch. The evening was winding down, the guests beginning to depart. The ballroom, once buzzing with energy, was starting to thin out. Waiters began clearing tables, the clinking of glasses and silverware echoing through the room. The band had packed up their instruments, the stage now empty and bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lights. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and expensive cigars, a lingering reminder of the opulent evening. Veronica was still working the room, but even her energy seemed to be waning. She was accepting the final congratulations, her smile a little less bright, her posture a little less rigid.

As Veronica and Marcus finally disengaged from the last well-wishers, I approached them. "Ready to call it a night?" I asked, my voice casual.

Veronica offered a tired but genuine smile. "Yes, Mr. Stone. It's been a long but rewarding evening."

"Indeed," Marcus agreed, stifling a yawn. "Thank you both for your hard work," he added, turning to Veronica. "You were magnificent."

"Thank you, Marcus," she replied.

"I'll escort you both home," I said. "It's part of my job."

They both looked a little surprised, but neither of them protested. As we walked towards the exit, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking a tightrope. I was protecting her, yes, but I was also intruding. I knew she valued her privacy, her independence. But tonight, something felt different. Tonight, I felt a responsibility that went beyond my usual duties. The devil, as they say, is in the details. And I had a feeling that the details of this particular situation were about to get very complicated. And very personal.