Except competence in this world is often a liability, especially when it comes attached to someone who asks the wrong questions in front of the wrong people.
Whitmore’s donation history runs through accounts Pavel and I spent months structuring to stay invisible. If she’s digging into compliance filings, she’s one or two layers away from connections that can’t be explained away.
Oleg moves closer, his presence barely noticeable in the crowd. I don’t look at him directly.
“The woman in black,” I say quietly. “Diana Clarke. Find out who she works for and what else she’s been auditing.”
He doesn’t respond, but I know he’s already memorizing her face.
I watch her navigate toward the hallway that leads to the VIP lounge, her stride confident, her hips swaying in a way that makes the dress shift with every step.
The soft weight of her body, the way the fabric stretches across her thighs—it’s distracting in a way I don’t allow. I’ve spent years perfecting control, reducing variables, eliminating anything that could compromise focus. Desire is a weakness I don’t indulge.
And yet.
I set the glass down on a passing tray and follow.
The hallway near the VIP lounge is quieter, insulated from the ballroom noise by heavy doors and thick carpet. I’m halfway down the corridor when she rounds the corner without looking and collides directly into my chest.
Her breath catches. I steady her instinctively, hands closing around her waist, and the contact sends a jolt of awareness straight through me. She’s warm beneath the fabric, solid and soft in equal measure, her body pressing briefly against mine before she steps back.
Her eyes flick up—sharp, dark, assessing—and I see the moment she decides I’m not a threat. Or at least, not the kind she needs to worry about immediately.
“Sorry,” she says, though her tone suggests she’s more annoyed at herself than apologetic. “Didn’t see you.”
“Happens.” I don’t let go right away, my fingers lingering at the curve of her waist longer than necessary. “You alright?”
“Fine.” She smooths her dress, her gaze sweeping over me in a quick appraisal. I watch her categorize me the same way I did her—tailored suit, no visible security detail, expensive watch but nothing flashy. She assumes I’m another strategist, someone adjacent to power but not wielding it directly.
She’s wrong, but I don’t correct her.
“Let me guess,” she says, a dry edge creeping into her voice. “You’re heading to one of those closed-door sessions where men convince themselves immunity comes standard.”
I almost smile. Almost. “That’s a cynical assessment.”
“It’s an accurate one.” She crosses her arms, and the motion shifts the neckline of her dress just enough that I have to force my gaze back to her face. “I’ve been to enough of these events to know how the script goes.”
“You’re here to…?”
“Make sure the script includes footnotes.” Her mouth curves slightly, not quite a smile but close. “Someone has to care about transparency.”
“Dangerous habit in a room full of people who prefer shadows.”
“Good thing I’m not particularly risk-averse.”
The space between us tightens without either of us moving. I notice the subtle tremor in her breath, the way her pulse flutters visibly at the base of her throat. She’s aware of me now—not just as another body in a crowded venue, but as something that demands attention.
I lower my voice, testing. “You should be careful about asking questions people don’t want answered.”
Her eyes narrow, but there’s heat beneath the skepticism. “Well, you should be careful about assuming I don’t know what I’m doing.”
The defiance mixed with awareness is intoxicating. She’s not intimidated, but she’s not oblivious either. She feels the shift in the air between us, the weight of proximity and unspoken threat, and she holds her ground anyway.
I should let her walk away.
Instead, I step aside and gesture toward the ballroom. “After you.”
She hesitates, just for a second, then moves past me. I follow, close enough that my hand finds the small of her back again, ostensibly guiding her through the returning crowd but really just because I want to touch her.
