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That afternoon, Felix Braun feigned a move to the left then juked to the right and swung his fist.

Dieter leaned back just far enough to let his boss’s hand fly past him without connecting.

With an angry growl, Braun followed up with a left hook. Dieter had anticipated that, too, and had already danced back a few steps.

Then as his boss reset his stance, Dieter flew forward and sent one punch into Braun’s abs and a second into his cheek.

If he’d used his full strength, his boss would have been on the mat, out like a light. Instead, Braun staggered into the ropes, breathing heavily.

“Maybe we should stop here,” Dieter said, not even sounding winded.

This was their first sparring session since the Golden Hour revenge plot had gone active, and it was clear Braun wasn’t as sharp as usual.

“Not yet,” Braun growled. He pushed himself toward the center of the ring and motioned for Dieter to come at him. “Again.”

“I think it would be better—”

“Again!” Braun yelled.

Dieter shrugged. When Braun got an idea in his head, he would hold on to it as long as possible—their current operation a prime example.

Dieter bounced back and forth from foot to foot, thinking that if he let Braun land a couple of blows, that should satisfy his boss.

As he took a step toward him, the gym door opened and Braun’s assistant stepped through.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” the man said.

Braun whipped around and barked, “Then why did you?”

“You wanted to know when we heard back from the film festival.”

“And?” Braun said, still mad but curious, too.

His assistant hurried to the ring and held out an envelope.

Braun lifted his gloved hands. “And how exactly am I supposed to open that?”

“Oh, um, would you like me to—”

“What do you think?”

The assistant opened the envelope and extracted the letter inside.

“Read it,” Braun said.

“?‘Mr. Braun, we received your inquiry about attending the World Thriller Film Festival opening night screening and celebration. Normally at such a late date, I would be unable to fulfill your request. As luck would have it, we’ve had a cancellation, and I am happy to inform you that I have set aside four tickets for you and your friends to join us at tomorrow night’s festivities.’?”

“Excellent.” Braun smirked.

“There’s more, sir,” the assistant said.

“Go on.”

“?‘Given your standing in the business community, I also wanted to let you know about a recently added opportunity in which you might be interested. During the post-screening party, there will be a special meet and greet for individuals considering investing in the film industry. It will be hosted by Ben Bacchetti and Billy Barnett, the producers of Storm’s Eye , our opening-night film. If this is something that interests you, please let me know right away as space is limited. Sincerely, Constance Mueller, World Thriller Film Festival Director.’?”

Braun laughed triumphantly and glanced at Dieter. “Seems things are turning back in our favor.” To his assistant he said, “Contact this Mueller woman immediately. Tell her that I would be honored to attend the meet and greet.”

“Yes, sir,” his assistant said and left.

Braun punched one of his gloved hands into the other and grinned at Dieter. “Now, where were we?”

Twenty minutes later, Teddy was in Mark Weldon’s suite with Stone and Vesna, whom he had just introduced, when he received a phone call. He took it in the other room and then rejoined his friends after he was done.

“That was Constance Mueller from the festival,” he said.

“And?” Stone asked.

“Braun took the bait,” Teddy said.

“Then I guess we have no choice but to go through with this, yes?” Vesna said.

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”