Saffron’s a delicate spice, easily overwhelmed by onions, which is why most authentic paellas avoid them and…Wait. You probably don’t give a shit about the finer points of composing a paella. Nor does it matter, since Bellamy’s turns out to be excellent, despite the onions.

We came here straight from the airport, where Trudy met me with the limo. I climbed in the car, we hugged, and she asked how things went in Virginia.

I decided not to give her any details about Donovan Creed’s military installation, or what takes place within those walls. Decided not to mention I saw the beautiful assassin Callie Carpenter arrive, looking grim-faced and deadly, with two prisoners in tow whose life expectancies were roughly equivalent to adult mayflies. I also decided not to tell her what it was like to be in the same room with the most terrifying man in the world after giving him the worst possible news about his daughter, or that my 24 hours in Virginia were filled with the constant fear I’d be killed for having seen the prisoners alive, or pronouncing Kimberly dead, and that I nearly collapsed with relief when Creed and Callie allowed me to leave with the stern warning not to reveal anything that transpired at that facility.

I simply told Trudy “There’s never a good time to tell a man his daughter has died.”

Thankfully, she didn’t pursue it further, and we rode to Aiden and Bellamy’s home in silence. When we arrived, and the guests noted our age difference, Trudy’s makeup, and choice of clothing; their jaws hit the floor like heavy gym weights after a rough set. But this being the bastion of polite society, all judgment and mockery took place through the practiced art of subtle, non-verbal signals, including arched eyebrows, widened eyes, and knowing looks.

Now we’ve reached the part of the evening where Trudy and I have been here for two hours, and every woman in the room considers her a serious threat to her marriage. It doesn’t require great wealth, breeding, or sophistication to notice the affect Trudy’s having on their husbands, and the chill factor in the room has escalated exponentially.

What do the women hate about her?

In a word, everything! To use more words, she’s young, beautiful, sexy as hell, charming, and worldly in an earthy, primitive, backwoods way. As the men warm to my young country girl, the women grow increasingly catty. What’s really setting them off is Trudy’s ability to parry their snide, cutting remarks while employing no social skills beyond genuine honesty and wide-eyed innocence.

She’s adorable, and everyone knows it.

If their husbands weren’t salivating over Trudy like dogs at a barbecue, every woman in the room would have embraced her on the spot.

Bruce Luce is particularly furious with me for bringing a child bride to such an important event. Not to mention one who’s half my age, outspoken, and openly practicing infidelity. Bruce hoped to receive a million dollars in donations tonight, but Trudy has effectively diverted all attention away from his fundraising efforts.

So we’re eating dessert, and everyone’s quiet, staring at Trudy, when Aiden asks Bruce if he knows Milo Choi.

Bruce says, “The hedge fund Choi?”

“The same. Does the hospital have any funds with him?”

Bruce clears his throat. “The board was considering an investment. To my knowledge they haven’t pulled the trigger yet. Why do you ask?”

“He was escorted from his office today in handcuffs.”

“Good Lord! Why?”

“Insider trading.”

Aiden turns to Trudy and says, “Please forgive me for boring you with this.”

“I’m not bored,” Trudy says. “In fact, I find it fascinatin’.”

Constance, one of the guests, says, “Oh, do give us your opinion as it relates to illegal trading, Trudy, dear. We’d love to hear your views. Am I right, ladies?”

They enthusiastically endorse the idea, eager to see how she handles this latest trap.

Trudy says, “I have a little knowledge on the subject.”

“How marvelous! Please educate us.”

“Well, my cousin Nelda was arrested for illegal tradin’.”

Aiden perks up. “Was your cousin an investment banker?”

“No sir.”

“Corporate executive?”

“Nope. Nelda’s an unemployed cashier. She used to work at the Getcher Gun, on Tremont Street.”

“What did she do to get arrested?”

“She traded her illegitimate baby to Raylan and Melba Hicks.”

“Excuse me?” Bellamy says. “Did you say she traded her child?”

“Yes, ma’am.