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Someone has infiltrated my organization. Someone is feeding information to my enemies. The thought makes the Monster snarl, hungry for blood.
But I know who it isn't.
“Boss, there’s nothing left to hear from them,” Tomasso’s says over the phone.
“Get me everything we have on recent hiring across all operations. Every new employee, every contract, every cleaning service."
He grunts. "And Ava?"
My jaw clenches. "She’s not a suspect."
"Boss—"
"Start with the bartenders," I cut him off. "The new cleaning service, too. Anyone with access to private areas."
"But what about?—"
"I said not Ava." The words come out sharp, final. "Don't waste time investigating what we already have looked into. I know her situation well enough.”
Because I do know. I know her down to my bones, even after ten years apart.
I pull up the employee records he sends to me half an hour later. Six new hires in the past month alone. The club's success means constant expansion, and constant vulnerabilities. Any one of them could be the leak.
My phone buzzes again. Tomasso.
"The young one broke further," he says without preamble. "Says someone powerful is behind this. Multiple organizations involved."
"Names," I demand. "I want every contact, every handler, every piece of shit involved in this operation."
"Working on it. But boss, they mentioned the infiltrator was chosen specifically to?—"
"Then find out who it is," I cut him off again, already pulling up security footage. "Check the new bartender. He's been asking questions about shipping schedules. And that waitress who keeps volunteering for VIP service."
They're the real threats, the ones trying to worm their way into my organization, thinking I wouldn't notice. Thinking they could use my club, my legitimate business, my pride, as a front for their games.
"Increase security at all our properties," I tell Tomasso. "Full background checks on the recent hires. I want to know every breath they've taken since birth."
After I hang up, I stand at my office window, watching the sun rise over my city. Somewhere out there, someone thinks they're clever enough to infiltrate my world. To threaten what's mine.
They’ll learn.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Ava
It’s beena week into my new "job" at The Silk Rose, and I've already gotten my routine down to an art.
That's the thing about being a con artist—you learn to adapt fast, to make any role feel natural. Though I have to admit, this one's more fun than most.
"Heads up, Harvard Law just rolled in," Kira calls from her makeup station, voice dripping with amusement. "Three of them, all wearing the same tie. Like a prep school reunion gone wrong."
I catch her eye in the mirror as I stretch, warming up for my set. "Let me guess—they've already mentioned their LSAT scores?"
"Twice." She rolls her eyes, fixing her lipstick. "And Chad, because of course one of them is named Chad, wants to explain cryptocurrency to anyone who'll listen."
"Amateur hour." I smirk, adjusting my outfit. "Watch this…I bet I can work Aristotle into my lap dance and make them think it was their idea."
"Oh honey, no. The last time you started quoting philosophy, that finance bro followed you around all night trying to debate moral relativism." Kira tosses a sparkly hair tie my way.