Gio snorts into his drink while Sal rolls his eyes.
“Can we talk about something other than my arranged marriage?” I ask pointedly.
“No,” all three respond in unison.
Gio leans forward, his typically serious expression softening. “In all honesty, Rafa, you could do worse. She’s brilliant by all accounts. Beautiful, obviously. And that look she gives—like she’s calculating exactly how long it would take to dismantle you.”
“Some men find that appealing,” Sal adds with a shrug.
“Some men are idiots,” I counter, though the description of Kira’s calculating gaze hits uncomfortably close to home. That exact look had sent heat through me during our dance.
“Speaking of idiots,” Luca says, eyeing a group of women at the bar, “I see several who need my personal attention. Excuse me, gentlemen.”
He slides from the booth immediately with the smooth charm that makes him both a successful club owner and a perpetually single.
With Luca momentarily distracted, I turn to the others. “I need your help with something.”
Gio and Sal exchange glances—they know this tone. It’s business, not pleasure.
“Vito thinks someone’s stealing from the joint accounts with the Petrovs,” I explain, keeping my voice low despite the music. I know Vito asked me not to say anything, but I also know that I can trust these guys, even if Vito can’t. “Significant amounts.”
“The Russians?” Sal asks, instantly focused.
“That’s what I need to figure out.” I take a sip of my Scotch . “Vito wants proof before he moves.”
Gio’s expression darkens. “If the Petrovs are double-crossing us right before this marriage alliance...”
“It would be war,” I finish. “And I’d be caught in the crossfire.”
“Along with your new bride,” Sal points out. “Where does she stand in all this?”
I hesitate, weighing how much to reveal. “She’s... investigating too. She thinks it might be someone on their side, not ours.”
“And you believe her?” Gio asks skeptically.
“I believe she believes it,” I answer carefully. “Whether she’s right is another question.”
Sal, ever the analytical mind, taps his fingers against his glass. “You’ve tried tracing the standard routes, I assume? Shell companies, offshore accounts, the usual laundering channels?”
“Of course. But whoever’s doing this is good. Really good. They’re using my own encryption methods.”
“Someone’s framing you,” Gio concludes.
“That’s my working theory.”
Sal straightens, a familiar glint in his eye—the look he gets when a particularly challenging problem presents itself. “Have you tried approaching it from the zero-point?”
“The what?” Gio asks.
“Instead of chasing where the money went,” Sal explains, “trace it from where it originated. Before it even entered the joint accounts. Follow it backward rather than forward.”
I consider this. “That would mean accessing the source systems for both families.”
“Exactly,” Sal nods. “Create a shadow echo in the deep web—a mirror that captures transaction images without actually touching the systems. Like a camera pointed at a screen rather than hacking the screen itself.”
“That’s...” I pause, running calculations. “That’s actually brilliant. They’d never see it coming because there’s no intrusion to detect.”
“You’d need significant processing power,” Gio points out. “And a secure location in the dark web where even NyxBinary couldn’t stumble across it.”
