Chapter 8
The Wolf in the Ballroom
The annual Manhattan Heritage Gala was the most exclusive event of the autumn season.
Billionaires, tech moguls, and corrupt politicians filled the grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel under sparkling crystal chandeliers.
I stood near the service entrance wearing a borrowed black evening gown that hugged my silhouette like liquid silk.
My hair was styled in an elegant updo.
A diamond-encrusted choker sparkled around my throat—a piece Natalia had lent me from her personal collection.
Across the room, standing beside the massive marble pillars, was Dominic Pierce.
He wore a pristine tuxedo, laughing with a state senator as if he didn't have a care in the world.
His platinum Patek Philippe watch caught the chandelier light with every gesture.
He looked invincible.
Untouchable.
My phone vibrated in my clutch.
A text from Victor parked in the surveillance van outside: We’re positioned. The main server feed is open. Make your move.
I took a deep breath, smoothed the front of my dress, and began walking across the polished marble floor toward Dominic.
He turned just as I approached within ten feet.
His smile froze instantly.
The color drained from his tanned face, leaving him looking like a statue carved from ash.
“Clara,” he breathed, his voice barely audible over the orchestra.
“You look surprised to see me, Mr. Pierce,” I said, offering a sweet, venomous smile.
“I thought my men took care of you in Astoria,” he muttered, his eyes darting to the armed bodyguards stationed near the exits.
“Your men are very good at breaking windows,” I replied smoothly.
“Not so good at finding people who know how to disappear.”
Dominic stepped closer, lowering his voice into a dangerous hiss.
“You’re standing in a room full of federal prosecutors and judges, girl. One word from me, and security will drag you out in handcuffs.”
“Go ahead,” I challenged, tilting my head.
“Tell them why your primary shipping company is registered under a dead man’s name in the Cayman Islands.”
Dominic’s expression twisted into pure, unadulterated terror.
He knew.
May you like
He finally realized I wasn't just a waitress or a translator.
I was his executioner.
