There. On the far wall. A door that looked like ordinary storage but wasn’t quite right—the hinges too substantial, the frame reinforced in a way that would be imperceptible to anyone who hadn’t spent years studying such details.
The staff vault entrance.
“This Bordeaux,” Stavros said, leading her to a rack near the center of the room, “is from a vineyard that no longer exists. The last vintage before a blight?—”
A notification light flashed on his watch. He glanced down, frowned, then looked back at them with an apologetic smile.
“I’m afraid I must attend to something. A minor issue with one of the guests upstairs.” He set down his glass. “Please, continue exploring. The 1982 Château Margaux in the corner rack is particularly worth your time. I’ll return shortly.”
Vivi kept her expression neutral even as her pulse quickened. The timing was almost too perfect. She watched Stavros retreat up the stairs, his footsteps fading until they were alone in the vast cellar.
“That was convenient,” she murmured and eyed Dom. “What did you do?”
Dom’s mouth quirked at one corner. “I might have suggested to a certain hotheaded shipping heir that a certain Belgian magnate made disparaging remarks about his family’s business practices. It’s amazing what the words ‘insider trading’ can do when whispered in the right ear.”
Vivi rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. Classic Dom—creating chaos to serve a purpose. “How long do you think we have?”
“Ten minutes, maybe less if Stavros is as good at defusing situations as I think he is.” He was already moving toward the door they’d spotted, his steps silent on the stone floor. “Let’s make it count.”
The sounds from the party above were muffled, distant echoes of laughter and conversation that wouldn’t carry their voices.
Vivi joined him, running her fingers along the seam where the door met the wall. No visible keypad, which meant the access mechanism was either hidden or?—
“Biometric,” Dom said, confirming her thought as he located a small, nearly invisible panel beside the frame. “Fingerprint scanner, disguised as part of the stonework.”
“Can you get through it?”
Dom stepped back and studied the door. “I could blow the?—”
“Quietly,” she added.
He sighed. “Not as fun, but yeah. I can get in.”
At one time, she trusted him implicitly. When he said he could do something, she absolutely believed him. He had been the best at what he did, and she’d seen him bypass systems far more complex than this one.
But he’d broken that trust.
And now Sabin’s life was at stake.
“You’re sure?”
He turned her to face him. “I can do it, Viv.” His voice was low, serious. “Trust me.”
Trust me.
She’d heard those words from him before, right before everything fell apart.
She opened her mouth to point that out, but the sound of footsteps on the stairs made them both freeze. Heavy, measured steps. Not Stavros.
“Security,” Dom whispered.
Shit. Running would look suspicious. Hiding would look worse if they were caught. They needed a reason to be here, examining this particular section of wall, that wouldn’t raise alarms.
She spun, searching for options. No adjacent rooms, no convenient alcoves, no plausible reason why two wine tasting guests would be standing at a staff-only door in a restricted corridor.
The footsteps grew louder.
A guard would round the corner in seconds.
