Page 132 of Stealing Blinds

“Roger that,” Zara replies. “She’s going in.”

“Everything is where it should be,” Cash chimes in next, regarding the codes recorded and envelopes switched back, until he spots me. “Or not.”

Meeting with Peter wasn’t on the original agenda either. He was supposed to be in a business strategy session that I was going to wander into for alibi purposes, but I prefer this.

“Stand down, Money. Ignore him, Little Bandit. You’re doing great,” Liam says smoothly. “We’ve got E at your two o’clock, so keep chatting it up with your mark until we give you the go-ahead.”

“Why pretend you didn’t know who I was?” I challenge Peter. “That you only knew me through Danny?”

“You had gone by two different names since your father’s arrest. I assumed you wanted to be seen separately.” He sips his whiskey, though his eyes stay on me above the rim, and his admission makes it clear he’d had tabs on me for years. “I intended to discuss it the night of my party. I wanted to offer you a life that I think he would have wanted for you.”

I shake my head, unable to contain the scoff. “My father wasn’t much of an oil fan. If anything, the Noires have far more in common with him than you.”

“Maybe so. But your father didn’t shout his associations, did he?” He cocks his head with the rhetorical question. “His power was quiet.”

What is your quiet power, Peter?

“Until it was stolen from him.” I don’t coat that with any sugar because my father was ultimately powerless, and I won’t pretend otherwise. “Along with his life.”

“Of course.” Peter lifts his palm in surrender. “I didn’t intend to be disrespectful.”

I blow out an exasperated breath. “I know you didn’t.”

We’re both quiet for a few minutes, watching everyone else socialize. I intentionally avoid peering at E or Beatrice Shaeffer when she walks by and greets him, but I don’t abstain altogether because that would be unnatural.

“Security is on the move, headed for the kite,” Gage informs the girls. “Less than two minutes.”

“Copy that,” Zara responds, and I fight the tension knotting my muscles.

Cash’s eyes flick this way with a subtle warning for me and a message for Peter that our time is dwindling.

“Is this a done deal? You and him?” Peter leans forward, his voice lower. “Tell me I have a shot, no matter how dark it may be, and I’ll take it. I’ll give you the fortune, the stability, the thrills, and the kids—everything Danny didn’t and the picture that will never fit this current situation.”

I flit my attention to Cash and his brothers and back to the man who’s known my backstory for years. “Because I’m Heath’s daughter?”

He considers that, but adds to it. “Because you and I could be unstoppable.”

I’m not sure what to do with that. There are probably follow-up questions that could divulge what would render us unstoppable, but I don’t know what they are.

Or I do.

“What qualifies me?” I peruse the room of well-bred heritage, full of those who contribute to society and those who rob it. “My education and athletic accomplishments or my genes?”

“All of the above,” he confesses, proclaiming his nefarious endeavors.

“And if I were in trouble?” I try, hoping he’ll divulge how he’d provide an exit route.

“Trouble would never find you with me. If that’s the draw you find in Cash, I can assure you that I have a reach far beyond his.”

“A quiet power,” I muse, referencing his take on my father.

“Only when it needs to be,” he corrects, reeling me in with exactly what I came for. “I’ve built something that can be the eye of the storm or the destructive wall.”

Six degrees of separation. Silent dominion or a devastating force.

A chill scampers down my spine. I sense the instant something’s off, but this time, I don’t hesitate. “I’m guessing this transcends fossil fuels?”

He huffs with indignation for my probing when I haven’t agreed to move to his side of the table. “Are you in trouble now? Here?”