The documents from Brooke were waiting in my inbox as soon as I woke up—asset transfers, discreet banking maneuvers, all the things necessary to keep my wealth fluid and untraceable on US soil. I signed off on them and moved on. Every minute wasted was one Delgado gained.
By eight a.m., I was showered, shaved, and ready to endure another syndicate business meeting.
Jack Byrnes, the head of the Irish syndicate in Boston, had insisted I join him for lunch at one of his waterfront restaurants in the Seaport District. Apparently, the view was supposed to soften me up.
It didn’t work.
Neither did the presence of his three daughters—who were all smiles, cleavage, and giggles. Each one was a carbon copy of the next, beautiful and empty, trained from birth to decorate a powerful man’s arm like a Rolex. He might’ve been hopingto marry me off to one them, to tie our bloodlines and secure loyalty. But I entertained none of it.
The food was excellent, the company exhausting. Thankfully, Jack gave me good intel—details Luca had wanted confirmed before tightening the ranks at our dinner tonight. At least the man wasn’t just posturing.
I endured it all with a polite nod and the occasional smirk, careful not to let even a flicker of irritation—or interest—show. Both were weaknesses that men like Jack would try to exploit.
By midafternoon, Rory and I boarded the jet back to Manhattan.
Henri kept me updated the entire way. There was still no sign of Lyla.
DarkMatter had swept the theater from top to bottom, checked every hallway, every camera, every alley. Still nothing. Her phone remained off. Her digital trail had gone cold.
Smart little mouse.
Or maybe just lucky.
Either way, I didn’t like it.
We landed just after five p.m.
I had enough time to get back to the penthouse, clean up, and suit up for tonight’s dinner with Luca and the men from Xyst. Whatever ceremony the old man had in mind, it would go down tonight, for better or worse.
Then, and only then, could I get back to the only thing that mattered.
Finding her.
Luca Genovese’s mansion sat like a fortress on the northern edge of Long Island. It was a majestic, old stone structure withwrought-iron gates and sprawling lawns. Guards with trained eyes and earpieces were stationed throughout the property. Inside, the place was all mahogany and marble. Chandeliers glittered over the long dining table that could seat twelve but tonight held just seven.
Luca and I sat at opposite ends.
Lucian, Lachlan, Gabriel, and Julian filled the center seats along either side. Rory took the end closest to me, silent and watchful. The Xyst guys looked sharp in dark jackets, but their eyes betrayed their tension.
When the main course was served, Luca raised a glass of wine. “Welcome, gentlemen—to the syndicate and everything that comes with it.”
A soft chorus of polite responses followed. Forks scraped plates. Wine flowed. Conversation stayed surface-level—at first.
As the servers were clearing away our plates, Luca leaned back and swirled the wine in his glass. “So, Nikolai…what’s the update on your little stripper?”
The air shifted.
Every man at the table stilled, waiting to see how I’d respond.
My voice came out cold. “She’s gone. Disappeared after her rehearsal at the theater last night, but then, you already know that, don’t you?”
Luca tilted his head and smirked. “So, you and Delgado both lost her?”
I picked up my glass and took a long sip, working to keep my temper in check. Luca was trying to get a rise out of me, but I wasn’t going to bite. “Yes, she gave all of us the slip.”
Luca chuckled deeply. “Maybe she’s not as credulous as you thought.”
I set the glass down with a quiet click. “I’m handling it.”
