Wheat spent the rest of the evening dancing and flirting and eating enough food to soak up all the alcohol he drank, because the last thing he needed on top of all this was a hangover, but all he wanted was to go home.
Finally, a glance at his wristwatch showed the gala would be coming to an end soon. Before he could track down Father and see if he was ready to leave, someone tapped the microphone, and Wheat flinched at the screech of feedback.
“Sorry, sorry.” The manager of the opera house gave a nervous smile. “Lucas Clark, our security spokesperson, has a word he’d like to share with you.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt your evening.”
Wheat knew the man. They’d had some good times together, but Father would never have permitted him to have a relationship with someone
