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“Which is?”
“You’re a chick. You can woo Stefan with your ‘female assets.’ Not to mention…” He trails off, glancing right and left before lowering his voice. “I’ve had my eye on this case for a while and I’ve been secretly monitoring the Zicaris. I have intel no one else has about this. The last-minute nature will actually be to our benefit, Lace.”
My stomach flips. “You’ve been busy. What do you mean ‘female assets’?” He opens his mouth to reply, but I hold up a hand to stop him. “Don’t answer that, or I’ll have to report you to HR.”
He laughs.
“But seriously, I’m not going to sleep with the guy. Why would me being a girl matter?”
“There’s a Christmas auction bash Stefan is throwing under one of his ghost corporations. He’s calling it a charity event, but we all know better. He’s laundering money,” Wes answers, “and who knows what else. We go there, make some introductions, and get the assignment completed. That is, if you’re willing to accept this mission.”
“You make it sound like we’re on Star Wars or some shit.” Still, I clutch the folder to my chest. “Thank you. For doing this for me.”
It means a lot to me that Wes, best friend and pain in my ass, gets me. He understands me, and he has already set things in motion to nab us this case. No matter how nervous it makes me.
Undercover work has never been my strong suit. I’ve only been on a handful of missions, more comfortable with a task force than anything else. I’m like an indoor cat: the conditions have to be right for me to thrive. I hate to admit it, but it’s what’s probably holding me back in this job and letting Angela get ahead of me.
I need to get out of my comfort zone. I need to do this job and take down the Zicaris.
“So you’re in?” Wes stares at me. “We have to move fast if you are.”
I swallow over any resignation, any last hint of nerves plaguing my insides. “Absolutely.”
We accept the job, right in front of Angela’s face, and this time around, the clapping is for me. A girl can get used to this kind of deal, especially seeing the way the pretty princess’ lips sour and a few new frown lines form on her face.
Hmm. Knocking Stefan Zicari off his throne…
It might be a merry Christmas for me after all.
CHAPTER2
Marco
“Ineed everything in place. If we can’t get prawns, then we’ll skip the cocktail and go straight for the crab canapes. Do you understand?” Stefan speaks to me like I’m a fucking idiot when he’s the one having an anxiety attack over a bunch of appetizers.
“You’re worried about shrimp.”I arch my brows and straighten my shoulders, standing to my full height. It means Stefan has to look up at me, even if it’s only a couple of inches. I’ll take the win.
“Marco—”
“You’re really fucking worried about this? Of all things?” I tap my fingers hard on the edge of the desk as he settles into his chair, the king in his castle. “Unless you’re not actually talking about food.”
“Of course I’m not talking about food.” Stefan’s expression goes sly and hard at the same time. “Clearly, you haven’t remembered the fucking cues. Are you trying to piss me off on purpose? Are you taking some sort of sick delight in punishing me?”
He’s perfected the look over the years. Before Dad died, I rarely saw Stefan without a smile on his face. Then, the happy go lucky streak in him was shot down, no hope of returning, and it’s his own damn fault. Older by seven years but gifted with all the anger issues, he must have sucked it up like mother’s milk.
“If you’re not going to bother learning the lingo, then get the fuck out. I have no use for you, Marco. Not for this auction and not for the business.”
I swallow down the barrage of shit I want to scream at him. It’s no use; he never hears me anyway. “You threaten me with it five times a day. Do you really think it means anything to me? I’m here to make sure your evening is flawless.”
Tonight is important on multiple levels, the way paved for new inroads to make money, for Stefan and for myself. I’ve enjoyed the lifestyle the arms dealing brought us—the money, the houses, everything.
What Ihaven’tenjoyed is what kind of man it’s made me. And Stefan…he’s just fucking doomed.
He brought it on himself, and my sympathy for his plight has long since died. Still, tonight is important for him, for me, for whatever future I might be able to carve out of all this madness.
“You will do everything in your power to keep things under control,” he warns me. “This time, there can be no mistakes.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Nothing good is ever accomplished with an eye roll, outside of a simple internal release of frustration.
