She trailed off, then gave me a sly look. “Well. He doesn’t exactly scream ‘billionaire chic.’”
“No,” I muttered. “He screams something else entirely.”
Sasha raised a brow. “Oh? Do tell.”
I hesitated.
Then, because the words were already burning the back of my throat, I said it.
“We … well …”
Her eyes went wide. Then she slapped a hand over her mouth and squealed behind it. “Shut the entire hell up. You fucked Silas Dane?”
“I’m not proud of it,” I said quickly. “It was impulsive. A mistake.”
“Was it, though?”
I gave her a look.
She grinned. “Come on. The brooding one? The one with the murdery eyes? That man looks like sin in a tactical vest.”
“Oh, it was sin all right.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “And he’s trying to push me out of the job. Like I’m not qualified.”
“Well, that’s bullshit.”
“Exactly.”
Sasha stepped closer, voice warm but firm. “You’re here because you earned it. Not because you’re convenient. Not because you’re expendable. And if he doesn’t know that, that’s his problem.”
I exhaled slowly. “Thanks, Sasha.”
“Anytime.” She smiled again. “Now come on. I haven’t shown you the garden terrace yet. It’s where the rich people go to pretend they’re low maintenance while demanding elderflower syrup flown in from Belgium.”
I laughed and followed her toward the French doors, already feeling a little lighter.
Silas Dane might have wanted to erase me.
But I wasn’t disappearing.
Not from this wedding.
Not from this city.
Not from him.
6
SILAS
The text came through at dusk, a burner number I hadn’t seen in months.
Meet me. Rusty Anchor. 2100.
No name, no details, just the kind of blunt summons that meant trouble or answers. Sometimes both.
I didn’t reply. Didn’t need to. My source, a weaselly ex-CIA spook named Doyle, knew I’d show. He always had something worth hearing, and I always had cash to loosen his tongue.
The Rusty Anchor squatted on the edge of downtown Charleston, a dive bar so locals-only it didn’t bother with a sign. The kind of place where the jukebox played Merle Haggard on loop and the bartender kept a sawed-off under the counter.
