Ionly changed my outfit twice this time.
Looking in the mirror, I had to admit—I looked good. Midnight-navy Theory suit. Minimalist blazer. Cartier Tank watch and simple Tiffany earrings. Structured Céline tote that screamed "professional" without being showy.
Perfect.
I'd slipped an antique lipstick case into the interior pocket. Rose-gold with delicate filigree. Inside: a thumb drive disguised as the lipstick tube. If anyone found it, I had a cover story ready.Identity theft is the worst—I keep all my passwords and bank info on this, never leave home without it.
The drive currently held nothing incriminating. Just Julia Russell's fake life. But eventually, it would hold Quentin's secrets.
If I could bring myself to steal them.
There were no weapons on my person or in my bag, no extra cell phone, nothing that could identify me beyond my alias, Julia Russell. By the time Quentin realized I was Julia Russo, avenging her father, he’d be past the point of no return.
I slipped on Stuart Weitzman pumps—85mm heels—and gave myself one final look.
One-hundred-percent businesswoman with just the right amount of sexy.
I was going to kill it.
Literally.
∞∞∞
On the drive to Vitality Ventures, my nerves struck like lightning.
Unexpected shakes. Anxiety in the pit of my stomach. Fear that made me second-guess everything.
What am I doing?
I'd never killed anyone. I was a numbers girl. I bought racehorses and shopped in Paris. I owned rental properties managed through Airbnb.
What made me think I could execute a man?
Breathe. Count down. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Better.
You're a champion. You'll seize the day.
Aunt Filomena's words from last night echoed:"You're going to do great. I've trained you myself. Release the self-doubt. A month from now, you're back in New York with respect on your name."
She hadn't said "blood on your shoes."
Small mercies.
I parked in the structure, checked my reflection one last time, and headed for the elevator.
Never let them see you coming.
∞∞∞
The receptionist was on the phone when I entered. She hung up, looked at me.
Up and down.
I must look even better than I thought.
"Good morning, Julia. Mr. Vanetti is expecting you." She gestured down the hall. "His door's open. Just walk right in."
