My boss brought his ordinary secretary to a mafia gala to humiliate her, unaware her $5,000 transformation would silence the entire ballroom.

Silence descended over the table once more, heavier and far more dangerous than before.

Larkin was staring at me as if he were seeing an alien creature drop out of the sky. He knew the broad strokes of the finances, but he hadn't known I had weaponized the municipal contract clauses to that degree. I had done it late at night, in the quiet solitude of my office, anticipating that someone would eventually try to slit his throat from within.

Don Rossi leaned forward, his eyes burning into mine.

"You drafted those escrow terms?" Rossi asked, his voice a low gravel rumble.

"I did," I answered.

"And the software rider that binds the commissioner?"

"Written by my hand, verified by independent counsel in Zurich."

Rossi slowly turned his gaze toward Larkin. "Where did you find this woman?"

Larkin didn't miss a beat. He recovered his composure, leaning back, draping one arm casually over the back of my chair. His fingers lightly grazed the bare skin of my shoulder, sending an electric jolt straight through me, though neither of us broke character.

"Clara doesn't exist on standard payrolls, Don Rossi," Larkin lied smoothly, spinning my legend in real-time. "I brought her into the firm specifically to ensure that amateur mistakes by family members wouldn't compromise our joint ventures."

Rossi let out a low grunt that sounded like approval. He reached into his pocket, pulled out an encrypted flash drive made of brushed titanium, and tossed it onto the table between us. It hit the wood with a dull thud.

"That contains the routing codes for the South American grain shipments," Rossi said, his eyes never leaving mine. "My current comptroller swears there’s a six-percent leak in the transit fees. He claims it's shrinkage. Maritime insurance. I say someone is skimming off my plate."

He pointed a gnarled, diamond-ringed finger at me.

"Take it, Miss Vance. You have until midnight to find the leak. If you find the man taking my money, Larkin gets the southern terminal, exclusive. If you're bluffing, and this is just pretty theater..." Rossi's smile vanished, replaced by the face of a man who had ordered dozens of executions. "...then neither of you leaves this building on your feet."

Larkin’s jaw tightened. "Don Rossi, this wasn't part of the evening—"

"I accept," I said, cutting Larkin off without a second thought.

I reached out, took the titanium drive, and slipped it directly into the small, beaded clutch resting in my lap.

"I don't need until midnight, Don Rossi," I told him, meeting his icy stare without blinking. "Give me thirty minutes, a secure terminal, and a glass of sparkling water."