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Asshole.

My makeup only took fifteen minutes. My hair had cooled, so I could brush out the curls into my favorite old Hollywood style. After pinning one side back, the other fell in a wave across my forehead and shoulder. The style worked because it offered me a curtain of privacy if I needed to regain my composure, hide my face, or sweep it away to shoot my target my most alluring gaze.

It was tried and true, and I wasn’t in the mood for taking additional risks tonight.

Now my dress. I planned on wearing a midnight blue gown. The guys said Dias went for women in darker colors, but something was telling me to switch. Hosted in the ballroom of a stunning art deco building downtown, the gala supported children’s education or something. I didn’t want to blend in, and this felt like a setting where I—or the heiress Millie Torres—could be brave.

Instead, I slipped into a gold gown with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a mermaid fit so perfectly the shimmering fabric could have been poured over me.

Yes, this would get Dias’ attention. This was the dress a man would remember.

The guys stood around the kitchen island when I walked in. Javier heard me first and turned, giving me the exact reaction I’d been hoping for.

His mouth dropped open, and his eyes trailed over my body, not once but twice before he finally remembered I had a face.

“You look . . . amazing.”

Since I was getting similar expressions from the other three, I assumed they agreed.

“Thank you. So what do I need to know?”

He blinked, then went back the floor plans they had spread out. “This is the main entrance. You’ll enter here and go to this ballroom.” His finger traced the line as if I couldn’t figure out the straight line on my own.

“We’ll be posted here and here.”

The back and front entrances.

“Cruz and Marco will circle the room, so you’ll never be alone.”

While this was all riveting information, it was nothing I couldn’t have figured out for myself. Was he really the leader of this group? Did they even need one?

I’d been more than fine on my own for basically the last decade, and I didn’t plan on changing things just because they were around.

“Good to know.” I tapped my nails on the marble. “What else have you learned about Dias? Any enemies I should know about? Friends? Lovers?”

Derek cleared his throat. “We don’t know about lovers, but he’s been known to get into it from time to time with an Italian businessman. He’s clean, but something about him seems to rub Dias the wrong way.”

“Do you have a picture?” I held out my hand.

He pulled out his phone and took longer than I expected to pull it up.

“Leo Brazzi.” I read his name at the top of the search bar. They didn’t even have surveillance images of him? What were they doing here? As soon as I spoke to Rod, I would point out how truly useless they were. I had more information on my most basic missions.

Ugh. Leo was not what I expected. Dias was hot. Leo was . . . rich? Maybe that was what made him appealing?

He had bushy black eyebrows, slicked-back hair, and an expression in every photo like he’d just smelled something bad. With his large nose and small eyes, he looked like a caricature, not a real person. But he would be an easy mark. If Dias didn’t notice me quickly, I’d go for this guy. That should get his attention.

“There’s also the Irish mob to watch out for. We don’t have any reason to think they’re in the area right now, or that they would attend this event, but they don’t like Dias or his crew.”

They didn’t like anyone, so that wasn’t surprising. Luckily, I memorized the names and faces of all the higher-ups and made men of the Italian and Irish mobs years ago. They were people I wanted to avoid at any and all times.

“Got it. Any friends?”

“He’s fairly well known in the city. Seems to get along with most people.” Cruz shrugged.

“Except Leo Brazzi?”

“Right.” His cheeks reddened.