Stephen Smith

"Oh, Colin, isn't it?" Zack said, reaching out his hand like he was about to shake with some politician instead of a man who clearly reeked of the underworld. Idiot.

For a moment I could've sworn Colin's entrance had been directed at Naomi—his eyes were all for her—but Zack was right there beside her, trying to claim the spotlight as usual.

"Oh, it turns out that their boss is you, Zack?" Naomi asked, her voice pitched with just the right amount of nervousness to make her look naive. "I heard that you had a lot of power and are connected to a lot of people in the underworld."

I narrowed my eyes. Was she serious? What idiot would actually believe—

"This guy listens to you?" The Cyprus girl chimed in, eyes wide with fake admiration. "No wonder you've been so secretive! You're a powerful man."

"Uh, yeah, I'm the boss," Zack said, puffing his chest out like a rooster.

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.

That's impossible. The feeling I had earlier couldn't be wrong. The heaviness in this room didn't come from Zack—it came from Naomi. She was lying through her teeth, taking advantage of the stupidity around her, and everyone was eating it up.

"I didn't expect that kid was capable of running a global organization. Somehow I just don't believe it," John muttered under his breath. "Is he just that good at pretending?"

"No matter how good at pretending he is, there's someone who's even better at it," I said, cutting in.

Naomi shot a look toward Colin. Colin shot one back. That quick exchange told me everything: they knew each other. And they were good at this game.

The rest of the room? Too blind to notice if a bomb went off outside.

I had to find a way to talk to her.

***

I found my chance later, outside by the pool. She sat alone, shoulders slouched, face bored, pulling a cigarette out of her purse. She scowled when her lighter wouldn't work. Classic nicotine addict—irritable without her fix.

I stepped out from my hiding spot. "Ms. Belle?"

Her head snapped up. She quickly shoved the cigarette and lighter away before turning to face me. No glare, no sharp words. Just looking straight at me—calm, clear-eyed. And it was... pleasant. Damn pleasant.

"Mr. Smith?" she said, her tone sharp but polite. "Why are you here? Are you wandering around because things aren't hospitable enough for you?"

In other words: go away. But no—I wasn't walking away now. My curiosity had its claws in me.

"No. I came here just for you."

I saw it: the tiny frown starting to form before she forced it away, regaining perfect control of her face.

"Interesting," she said flatly. "This is the second time we've met today and I don't know you, so please stop getting the wrong idea. It's not good to cause misunderstandings with other people."

Polite words, razor-sharp meaning. She was telling me to fuck off.

"What do you mean?" I asked anyway.

"Since you like this area, I'll leave you this space," she said, already starting to step away.

"Going to smoke or something?" I pressed. "You know cigarettes are bad for you."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her voice didn't crack once. "I don't know why you seem to be targeting me, but I've had enough, Mr. Smith. I've never been a smoker, and I don't know what anyone told you, but they're wrong. And whatever you're thinking is wrong as well."

Disciplined. Controlled. Even her lies slid out smooth as silk. If I pushed any harder, it would look like I was harassing some poor young lady by the pool. She knew exactly how to play this.

She's good. Too good.

"Have a good evening," she said, finality in every word.

"Wait a minute—" I reached out and caught her wrist.

Big mistake.

She yanked back hard, heel slipping on the wet tiles. In the blink of an eye she tipped backward, arms flailing, and crashed into the deep end of the pool.

For a second I just watched, waiting to see if it was another act. But no—her panic was real. She thrashed, gasped, went under. She was drowning.

I dove in.

"Calm down! I've got you—you won't drown," I said, grabbing hold of her, hauling her above the waterline. Her breaths came fast and uneven. I could feel her heartbeat racing through the grip I had on her. She wiped water from her face, wild-eyed.

"Get me on the land now!" she snapped.

"Right," I said, boosting her higher.

"What are you doing?!" she barked, furious even while choking on water.

I got her up onto the side of the pool, lifting her as carefully as I could. She scrambled to her feet instantly, dripping, not even giving me a glance of gratitude.

Instead of fear or relief, her face was twisted with pure rage.

"Lot of people can't swi—" My words were cut off as her hand clamped down on my head and shoved me back under the water.

I popped back up, sputtering, staring at her in disbelief.

"I'm going back to change," she said, flat, ice-cold, without a hint of amusement.

"Hey," I called, half laughing, half desperate, "I accidentally got you into the pool—at least let me apologize."

If she left now, it was over. I just wanted to talk to her a little longer. She didn't feel so terrifying in this moment. She was fascinating.

"There's no need to worry, Mr. Smith. Everything is fine," Naomi said, turning her back on me and walking away, soaked dress clinging to her.

Damn. I hate to see her go, but I love to watch her leave.

I hauled myself out of the pool, water streaming down my sleeves, shoes squelching. That's when I saw it—a glint on the tiles. Naomi's necklace.

I crouched down, turning it over in my hand. Not Belle-quality, not even close. Too plain. Too... sentimental. The Belle family would never buy something like this. Which meant it wasn't theirs. So what did it mean?

"What's going on here, sir? Were you playing in the pool or something?" John's voice cut in as he strolled out to the poolside, arms folded like he'd been waiting for this. "Acting up in someone else's home, that's not like you. Did you need to cool off after seeing that Naomi? Was it love at first sight?"

I smirked at him, still staring at the necklace. "It's not so much love at first sight as it is I feel the need to expose her."

John raised an eyebrow, but I didn't elaborate. I just held up the necklace, letting the water drip from it. "Check the history of this. Then get me some dry clothes."

***

Later, I leaned back in a chair, half-watching as the two girls from earlier—still sore from being humiliated—slithered their way up to Zack and the gangster.

"It's not fair that an orphan was able to do that to us here," one of them whined, eyes wet with fake tears.

"It was you who started talking about her first," Zack said, sounding like a lecture from a half-baked moralist. Was he actually defending her? What, because she batted her lashes at him in that lounge? Pathetic. "No matter what she said after that doesn't change. And she invited me here herself. How could you be rude to the hostess of the party?"

"I just can't stand her hypocrisy," the other spat. "She's just pretending to be pure. I bet she's upstairs changing clothes, just waiting for you."

"Don't be ridiculous." Zack chuckled, shaking his head. "If that sister-loving demon heard you, I'd be killed."

"What? But you're the leader!" the girl pushed. "Who's going to resist a gangster? You have so much power under you. They can't do a thing."

Zack hesitated. Then his grin widened, oily and triumphant. "That's right. They can't, huh? And she's been sending me signs all night..."

I sat forward, pulse ticking. What's going to happen next?

It was obvious Zack wasn't Colin's boss—he didn't have the presence, not even close. And yet Colin wasn't lifting a finger to stop him. Why? Did Colin actually work for Naomi? Was she capable enough to rein Zack in herself? And if she was Colin's boss, then... was she La Grande Dame?

I needed clarity. "Aren't you going to stop him?" I asked Colin casually, testing the waters.

He looked at me, smile faint, voice smooth. "I can't control what people do."

Cryptic bastard. And then there was the figure on his arm—the one in the gown. Beautiful at first glance, but the details gave it away. Not a woman. Still... close enough to fool half the room.

"Besides," Colin added, with that same silky smile, "things will work themselves out."

Even his tone carried a strange, feminine lilt, like he was mocking me with it.

And I couldn't help it—I felt a thrill. All of this, every little performance, every secret layered under a polite smile... it only made me twice as excited to see what Naomi would do next.

How else was this girl going to entertain me?