“Make it eleven,” Ashley said. “I hate flying early in the morning.”
“Eleven it is.”
He gave a single nod, then faced the others, the tension in the room vanishing. We had done it.
Marco waited until Ashley moved away before leaning down, his breath warm against my ear. “You are magnificent.”
“You were losing him,” I whispered back.
“I was softening him up for you.” He kissed my temple, ignoring the room full of people. “You delivered the knockout. Thirty million, Tess. Maybe forty. Do you know what we can do with that kind of money?”
“Everything,” I said. “We can bring our diabetes tech to the mass market.”
“Exactly.” He grinned, that boyish, reckless grin that had made me fall in love with him in a university library ten years ago. “Let’s get a drink. Celebrate.”
We moved toward the bar, my legs feeling a little shaky now that the adrenaline was fading. This was it. The tipping point. Years of maxed-out credit cards, second mortgages, nights spent staring at code until my eyes burned—it was all about to pay off.
Marco stopped abruptly, his grip on my arm tightening.
“Don’t look now,” he murmured, his tone dropping an octave, losing its warmth. “But check out three o’clock. Near the pillar.”
I instinctively turned, but he nudged me. “Subtle, Tess.”
I feigned interest in the ice sculpture near the bar, letting my gaze drift past it. Standing near the heavy velvet drapes was Arthur. But he wasn’t alone. He was deep in conversation with a man in a charcoal suit. I recognized him instantly.
David Thorne. VP of Acquisitions for QuantumTech. Our biggest rival.
“Thorne,” I whispered, a cold prickle running down my spine.
“Look at them,” Marco said, his jaw tight. “Arthur isn’t just networking. Look at his body language. He’s leaning in. He’s eager.”
“He’s probably gloating,” I suggested, though I didn’t fully believe it. “Telling Thorne about the Ashley meeting.”
“No,” Marco said darkly. “That’s not gloating. That’s conspiring. Arthur is a snake, Theresa. I’ve felt it for months. He’s up to something.”
I looked at my husband. Marco was usually the eternal optimist, the man who saw the best in everyone. To hear him speak with such venom was jarring.
“Marco, listen to me,” I said, placing a hand on his chest. “We didn’t hire Arthur because he was a golden retriever. We hired him because he’s a shark. We needed someone ruthless to handle the finances, remember?”
“There’s a difference between a shark and a traitor.” Marco watched Arthur laugh at something Thorne said. “I don’t like it. It smells fishy.”
“He’soursnake,” I insisted, rationalizing the scene before us. “If he’s talking to Thorne, he’s probably gathering intel. Or he’s planting misinformation to throw them off our scent. Arthur knows his stock options are worthless unless we go public. He’s greedy, Marco, not stupid.”
Marco finally tore his eyes away from the pair, looking down at me. The suspicion lingered in his gaze, clouding the honey-gold. “I don’t know, Tess. Something about him has been making my skin crawl lately.”
“Let it go for tonight,” I urged, handing him a fresh glass of champagne the bartender had just slid onto the counter. “We just landed the biggest meeting of our lives. Don’t let Arthur Vance ruin the mood.”
He hesitated, glancing back one last time. Then, with a heavy sigh, he forced a smile.
“You’re right,” he said. “To the future.”
I clinked my glass against his. “To the future.”
The party wound down an hour later. The noise level dropped as guests filtered out toward the elevators or the snowy streets of Aspen.
Two men approached us near the coat check. They were dressed differently wearing North Face fleece instead of Armani.
“Mr. Carideo?” the taller one asked.
