He downs his drink in one gulp. Someone from the O’Callaghan clan beckons him. “I’m being summoned. Give me a secret. A good one. I need a reaction.”
Sebastian specifically instructed me not to tell him secrets beforehand. Because his family knows about his condition, his usual masking doesn’t work on them. They watch him for cracks, for tells. He needs shock to sell the illusion of genuine emotions.
I flick my lighter and nod at him to lean in. He does.
“Dimitri Ivanov bartered a deal with your Ronan O’Callaghan. Twenty percent of your next month’s weapons imports for him to look the other way. Because Ronan is fucking Yuri Ivanov’s daughter. Opportunistic bastard.” I click my tongue. “All of you led by your dicks.”
Sebastian lets out a slow whistle. “Good one,” he murmurs. I can hear the sadistic glee in his voice. “Didn’t have to fake that reaction. Uncle Ronan, sixty and bedding a co-ed. Who knew?”
He mock-salutes me with his empty glass before facing the crowd.
But before he slips away, he lowers his voice. “The comment about dicks. Watch where yours lead.”
The jab lands, and I don’t respond. Instead, I keep my eyes trained on my wife, who’s chatting up one of the wives or girlfriends of some nobody. She hurls a seething glare my way.
And God help me, because my cock twitches.
“You motherfucker!” Yuri yells.
Chaos breaks out. Fists fly. Glass shatters. Women scream.
The O’Callaghans and Ivanovs brawl. Boris Ivanov, the Russian patriarch, turns crimson trying to pull his sons from the Irish. The princess in question buries her face in her mom’s shoulder.
Sebastian winks. I smile. Here’s my window.
Rook Elias
Go boom.
I slip out of the ballroom and head up the stairs, knowing Aleksei has the cameras looped.
The two guards are nowhere to be seen.
“You go right, I go left,” a soft voice says at the landing.
Sofia, dressed in a dark green gown, points down the hallway.
“Where did you put them?”
She grins. “A sudden onset of bad diarrhea. Courtesy of a small little prick.” She flashes two tiny pins laced with meds, no doubt. “We have five minutes max before they call for replacements.”
I nod. “Be careful.”
We split. I check room after room—a library, a gallery, both ornate but abandoned.
Fucking show-offs.
Lana would love these rooms.
I shove the stray thought aside and head down the hall. Two bedrooms. The air is musty, so I doubt anyone’s been in here for ages.
Before I leave the room, I hear a door creaking. Not Sofia, judging by the heavy footsteps.
I plaster myself against the wall, gun raised, breath held.
A man moves past me, his strides quick.
I peek through the gap. Black tuxedo, tall frame, black mask.
