The London charity gala was everything the Monaco event had been, but with more history behind it. The venue was a centuries-old manor house, all marble columns and oil paintings of long-dead aristocrats. The guest list read like a directory of European old money and pharmaceutical dynasties.James felt out of place despite the tailored tuxedo. Elena seemed more comfortable, navigating conversations about art acquisitions and summer estates with practiced ease."You're getting better at this," she murmured as they moved through the crowd."I'm faking it better," James corrected. "There's a difference."They were speaking with a German industrialist about funding for medical research when James felt eyes on him. Intense, focused attention that made the hair on his neck stand up.He turned and saw her across the room.An elderly woman, perhaps in her eighties, stood perfectly still amid the flowing crowd. She wore an elegant black gown and diamonds that probably cost more than James's c