Chapter 1 - The Woman Who Wouldn’t Look Away
Harper Hayes lifted her fork and said, “Tell Mr. Lombardi I’m busy.”
Dante Lombardi entered the crowd as his bodyguard placed a black business card beside her cake plate.
A handwritten number sat beneath the embossed name.
12,417,600.
This was no longer a conversation about cake.
Harper stared at the number for less than a second.
Then she took another bite.
She had learned early in her accounting career that panic was expensive. Panic made people click the wrong spreadsheet cell, send emails to the wrong recipient, sign documents without reading them, and confess things nobody had actually accused them of doing.
So when the most feared man at the gala began walking toward her, Harper concentrated on chewing.
Red velvet.
Cream cheese frosting.
Good cake, actually.
Possibly worth dying over.
“Ms. Hayes.”
Dante stopped in front of her.
Up close, he was more intimidating than photographs suggested. His white shirt was open at the throat, revealing the edge of dark ink beneath his collar. His sleeves were rolled back over muscular forearms, and an expensive silver watch caught the late-afternoon light.
Harper swallowed.
“Mr. Lombardi.”
“I’m told you’re busy.”
“Extremely.”
His gaze moved toward her plate.
“With cake.”
“It has layers. Requires concentration.”
For one dangerous second, nobody spoke.
Then Dante laughed.
It wasn’t loud.
That somehow made the surrounding silence more noticeable.
Harper saw two men near the champagne table glance toward them. Another man pretended not to.
People watched Dante Lombardi even when they were trying very hard not to watch Dante Lombardi.
Harper understood why.
Lombardi Holdings officially owned shipping facilities, hotels, construction companies, commercial real estate, restaurants, and several logistics firms.
Unofficially?
Harper preferred not to speculate.
Accountants survived by knowing which columns required questions and which required silence.
Unfortunately, three hours earlier, she had found twelve million reasons to stop being silent.
Dante tilted his head.
“You rolled your eyes at me.”
“Did I?”
“You did.”
“That sounds difficult for you.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
Behind him, Harper saw Arthur Pendleton.
And everything changed.
Arthur had been laughing with State Senator Calvin Reese only moments earlier. Now his champagne glass hung forgotten at his side.
His face had gone white.
He wasn’t looking at Dante.
He was staring at Harper.
More precisely, he was staring at Harper’s purse.
The encrypted drive was inside it.
Harper felt cold.
Arthur knew.
Somehow, he knew she had discovered the transfers.
She looked back at Dante.
“If I were you, I’d stop collecting admirers and start reviewing your third-quarter port expenses.”
His amusement vanished.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
“What did you say?”
“Vanguard Logistics.”
Nothing moved in Dante’s face, but the bodyguard beside him shifted.
Harper noticed.
So did Dante.
“Continue.”
Harper should have walked away.
Instead she said, “Vanguard bills Apex Maritime for services that don’t exist.”
Dante’s gaze sharpened.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“That wasn’t convincing.”
“I know how much I found. That doesn’t mean I know how much there is.”
“How much did you find?”
Harper lowered her fork.
“Twelve million, four hundred seventeen thousand, six hundred dollars.”
The number on the black card.
Dante looked at the card.
Then at his bodyguard.
Harper’s pulse jumped.
“You already knew the amount.”
“I knew money was missing.”
“But not where.”
“No.”
Harper glanced toward Arthur again.
He was moving.
Not running.
Arthur was too smart to run.
He shook Senator Reese’s hand, smiled at a woman in emerald silk, then drifted casually toward the glass doors leading into the hotel.
Harper pushed her plate aside.
Dante followed her eyes.
“Who?”
“My boss.”
“Arthur Pendleton?”
“Yes.”
“What does he have to do with this?”
“I think he knows I found it.”
Dante stepped closer.
“What exactly did you find?”
Harper lowered her voice.
“Vanguard invoices Apex. Apex pays Vanguard. Vanguard sends portions of those payments through two Delaware companies. From there, the money enters a property trust.”
“Whose trust?”
“That’s where it gets interesting.”
Dante waited.
Harper watched Arthur reach the doors.
“Arthur’s wife.”
Dante didn’t move.
“Elaine Pendleton?”
“Her name is on the trust.”
“Elaine Pendleton died eighteen months ago.”
Harper looked at him.
She hadn’t known that.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Dante’s voice became quieter.
“It’s inconvenient.”
Arthur disappeared inside.
Harper grabbed her purse.
Dante caught her wrist.
Not violently.
Firmly.
“Where are you going?”
“After him.”
“No.”
“He knows.”
“And if he knows what you copied?”
Harper froze.
Dante released her.
“You’re an accountant, Ms. Hayes. Think like one.”
She hated that he was right.
If Arthur knew she possessed evidence, following him into an empty hotel corridor was catastrophically stupid.
Dante gestured toward his bodyguard.
“Marco.”
The man stepped forward.
“Get Pendleton.”
Marco moved.
Harper immediately followed.
Dante blocked her path.
“I said no.”
“And I don’t work for you.”
“No. You work for the man stealing from me.”
“That’s exactly why I’m going.”
Dante studied her for a long moment.
“You’re either unusually brave or spectacularly bad at recognizing danger.”
“I recognize it.”
“Then why aren’t you afraid?”
Harper met his eyes.
“I am.”
That answer seemed to surprise him.
She continued.
“I just don’t think fear should get voting rights.”
For the first time, Dante had no immediate response.
Then shouting erupted inside the hotel.
Harper turned.
Marco appeared through the glass doors.
Alone.
Dante’s expression hardened.
“Where is he?”
“Gone.”
“How?”
“Service elevator.”
Dante looked toward Harper.
“Your drive.”
Her hand instinctively moved toward her purse.
“What about it?”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
Marco actually blinked.
Dante stared at her.
“You understand what’s on that drive?”
“Better than you do.”
“It concerns my businesses.”
“It also contains records from my employer, client accounts, routing numbers, tax records and enough confidential information to get me sued into another dimension.”
“I can protect you.”
Harper almost laughed.
“From whom?”
Dante didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
Her phone vibrated.
She pulled it out.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
One message.
DELETE WHAT YOU COPIED.
Harper’s stomach tightened.
A second message arrived.
YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES.
Dante took the phone from her before she could object.
His face changed.
“Marco.”
“I saw it.”
The atmosphere around them transformed instantly.
Two more men approached.
Guests began noticing.
Harper lowered her voice.
“I’m not giving you the drive.”
Dante looked at her.
“Then you’re staying with me.”
“That sounded disturbingly like kidnapping.”
“It’s protection.”
“Kidnappers probably call it that too.”
Another vibration.
Dante looked at the screen.
This message contained a photograph.
Harper stopped breathing.
It showed her apartment building.
Taken moments ago.
Beneath it were five words.
WE KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE.
Dante handed the phone back.
“We leave now.”
Harper wanted to argue.
Then she saw something reflected in the glass behind him.
A man near the terrace entrance.
Gray suit.
Champagne glass.
Watching them.
The moment Harper looked directly at him, he turned away.
“Dante.”
It was the first time she had used his first name.
He noticed.
“What?”
“That man.”
Dante followed her gaze.
The gray-suited man dropped his glass.
Then ran.
Marco lunged after him.
Guests shouted as glass shattered.
Dante moved Harper behind him.
The man slammed through the side doors.
Marco disappeared after him.
Harper’s heart pounded.
Dante reached inside his jacket.
“Stay behind me.”
“I thought this was a gala.”
“So did I.”
Marco’s voice suddenly came through Dante’s earpiece.
His expression went still.
“What?”
Marco said something Harper couldn’t hear.
Dante looked at her purse.
Then at Harper.
“What did he say?”
Dante didn’t answer.
“Dante.”
“He caught the man.”
“And?”
“He had something in his pocket.”
Harper swallowed.
“What?”
Dante’s gaze settled on her.
“A photograph of you.”
Her blood went cold.
“That makes no sense.”
“It gets worse.”
“How?”
“The photograph is six years old.”
Harper stared at him.
Six years ago, she had never heard of Lombardi Holdings.
She had never met Arthur.
She had barely finished graduate school.
“Why would anyone have—”
Her phone rang.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
Dante reached for it.
Harper stopped him.
“No.”
She answered herself.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then breathing.
A woman spoke.
“Harper?”
Harper’s knees nearly weakened.
She knew that voice.
It was impossible.
The woman whispered three words.
“Don’t trust Dante.”
The call ended.
Harper stared at the screen.
Dante watched her.
“Who was it?”
Harper slowly raised her eyes.
“My mother.”
Dante frowned.
Harper’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“My mother died six years ago.”
Then the service door behind Dante clicked open.
May you like
Someone inside whispered Harper’s name.
And she recognized her mother’s voice again.
