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“Copy that,” I murmur, moving through the room.
It’s opulent here. Blindingly so. I’ve never seen so many ornaments and tinsel and fresh garlands before. The fireplace burns Yule logs and the live band set up in the corner of the room plays jazzy versions of Christmas tunes.
The majority of the guests are beginning to arrive, all of them smelling just as expensive as they dress. Plenty of impressive black suits and custom designer gowns. The women are decorated in all manner of sparkling jewels. If the Red Ravens were here today, this would be considered an absolute jackpot. Criminals flaunting their riches —perfect for the taking.
I can’t even begin to estimate how much their jewels alone would be worth. The money could feed thousands of the hungry, fund dozens of homeless shelters, clothe hundreds of the poor. Looking at the people in this room, I feel nothing but disdain. I don’t even want to think about what terrible things they’ve done to accrue their excessive wealth.
I keep my head down, reminding myself why I’m here. I casually hand a woman with a bright red mask a flute of champagne. Someone has the audacity to snap their fingers at me to get my attention. All I can do is smile politely and refresh their drink, moving through the room to carefully position myself as close as possible to the steps leading downstairs.
I check my watch.
Six more minutes until I make my move.
Six more minutes until I’m finished with this fucking nightmare. Then I can save Dad and figure out what I’m going to do now that I know I’m preg—
“You there,” a haughty man says, waving his fat sausage fingers in my face. “More champagne! Can’t you see my glass is nearly empty?”
When my gaze lands on the man’s face, I freeze. I’ve seen him countless times over the past few weeks in pictures and grainy videos. It’s surreal seeing him here in the flesh.
Augustus Van Straus.
Meeting him in person feels oddly like meeting a celebrity. I’ve seen him from afar, compiled notes about his comings and goings, learned all about his life in preparation for this job. I could probably give Hollywood stalkers a run for their money. What a shame I’m not exactly a fan.
Van Straus plucks a flute of sparkling champagne off my silver tray, studying me with more interest than I’m comfortable with. He’s the only one here not wearing a mask; instead, a bold red blazer makes him pop out in his sea of party guests.
“My, my…” he purrs. “Cassandra’s certainly gone out of her way to hire such a beauty this year.”
My skin crawls.A beauty? He talks about me like I’m a fucking prized racehorse and I don’t appreciate it one lick. I can’t react, though. The last thing I want is to draw attention to myself. All I can do is smile politely and shuffle off.
“Five minutes, Rocky,” Anders says in my earpiece.
“Please excuse me,” I mumble, turning to step away.
Van Straus grabs my elbow. “Now, wait a second. Stay a while and chat with me, beautiful.”
Ugh, gross.
I have to figure out how I can weasel my way out of this. The clock is ticking, and I’d really rather not be trapped in a face-to-face conversation with the man I’m trying to rob.
Tapping my earpiece, I give him a thin smile. “Apologies, Herr Van Straus. I think the kitchen’s calling me to pick up some of the hors d’oeuvres.”
“Let someone else get it,” he says. His tone makes me queasy. Van Straus speaks calmly —hell, even warmly— but there’s something forceful beneath it all. This is a man who doesn’t take no for an answer. “What’s your name, gorgeous? Have you seen my collection of tiger skins in the west wing?”
I grind my teeth, laughing uncomfortably as one of the party guests approaches to speak with Van Straus. I use the opportunity to slip away, but this doesn’t stop my unwanted admirer from watching me go. His gaze makes me want to hurl. Van Straus has dark eyes just like Gabriel, but when Gabriel looks at me, it doesn’t make my cortisol levels spike.
Gabriel always looks at me with adoration. Even when we were butting heads, I could sense his respect. He and I were on equal footing. For a brief moment in time, literal partners in crime.
Van Straus looks at me like I’m a piece of meat. Something to hunt for the fun of it.
“Four minutes,” Anders says in my ear. “We’re making our way up to the security booth to check in.”
“Copy that,” I rasp under my breath, moving as quickly as I can through the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Van Straus beckoning Cassandra over. I’m too far away now to hear what they’re saying but judging by the way he points a bejeweled finger in my direction, I have to assume he’s asking her about me.
I keep moving. Cassandra is the only one here who might be able to place me after the whole Amelia Stern fiasco. I pick up my pace when I realize she’s now following me, weaving in and out of guests to get to me.
Ah, shit.
I round the corner, abandoning my serving tray on a fancy mirror-topped hallway table. My shoes squeak on the polished marble floor, my heart racing in my throat when I hear the sharp click of Cassandra’s heels behind me.
