Chapter 8 - The Traitor’s Toast
District Attorney Vance cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Miss Blake, a pleasure. Victor, you shouldn't be wandering too far from your legal counsel tonight. Things in the city are volatile.”
“Volatile for criminals, Mr. Vance,” Adriana chimed in, her tone dripping with innocent sweetness. “Fortunately, the camera never lies. It’s remarkable what high-speed digital sensors can pick up these days. Keycard interceptors, cloned RFID tags... even government-sealed shipping manifests.”
Vance’s face darkened, his politician's veneer cracking to reveal the corrupt operator underneath. “I’d be careful what accusations you throw around, young lady.”
“She didn't make an accusation, Raymond,” Victor said, stepping forward until he physically dominated the space between Vance and Lorenzo. “She stated a technical fact. And in exactly three hours, those facts will be delivered to the Federal Judicial Ethics Committee and the Grand Jury.”
Lorenzo’s hand twitched toward his inner jacket, but Marco materialized out of the crowd, appearing like a ghost behind Lorenzo’s right shoulder, a heavy hand resting firmly on Lorenzo’s trap muscle.
“Keep your hands where the cameras can see them, Lorenzo,” Marco whispered cordially. “Smile for the patrons.”
Lorenzo’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently under his ear. “You think you can win this, Victor? The Commission meets at midnight. They’ve already agreed to strip your territory. You’re a dead man walking into an execution chamber.”
“Then you shouldn't mind having a drink with me to celebrate your victory,” Victor said smoothly.
Victor took two glasses of vintage champagne from a passing waiter’s silver tray. He handed one to Lorenzo and held his own high.
“To loyalty,” Victor said, his eyes drilling into Lorenzo’s soul. “And to the price of forgetting who built you.”
Lorenzo looked at the glass in his hand as if it were filled with arsenic. Under the watchful glare of fifty surrounding socialites and press cameras, he had no choice. He raised the glass and touched it to Victor’s.
Clink.
“To the end of an era,” Lorenzo whispered venomously.
Victor drank. Lorenzo barely wet his lips.
Victor turned back to Adriana, offering his arm. “Shall we view the gallery, Miss Blake? The modern wing has a collection of photographs I think you’ll find... revealing.”
As they walked away arm-in-arm, leaving Lorenzo and Vance sweating beneath the museum chandeliers, Adriana felt a wild, exhilarating rush.
May you like
She looked up at Victor’s profile. “You just declared war in the middle of a museum.”
“No,” Victor said softly, looking down at her with unmasked admiration. “You did. I just gave you the platform.”
