2. Walking into Lion's Den

“Careful, sweetheart. You are about to spill that wine.”

I glanced down at the hand wrapped around my waist and then at the stranger who had decided it belonged there.

My blood turned hot. All I wanted was to smack the glass against his head and burn his hand down, but instead, I smiled.

And just when he smiled back at me, I poured the rest of my wine over his expensive shoes, which made him stumble a step back.

“What the hell...” His face twisted in anger.

“Oops.” I batted my eyelashes, feigning innocence.

I would have shown him his place only if we were somewhere else.

With paparazzi surrounding us, I didn't want to grab unnecessary attention, unless it was in my favor.

Leaving him fuming in anger, I placed my empty glass on a passing waiter's tray and walked away, as I had more important things to do.

The Grand Hotel was glowing like a palace tonight.

Crystal chandeliers, men in perfectly tailored suits, and women dressed in diamonds worth more than most people's houses.

Just vultures pretending to be royalty to prove themselves more powerful than others.

To the media and the outside world, it was an out-of-reach party attended by the city's most influential people.

But the real party was happening behind closed doors.

My black velvet dress hugged every curve of my body, the slit revealing just enough of my thigh to hide the dagger strapped against it with every step.

My motive was to slip into the back corridor without catching attention, because the real summit was happening there and I was more interested in it.

With every step I took forward, my heart hammered loudly in my chest. But I couldn't let the anxiety show on my face. In the past seven years, I have learned well to hide my emotions.

As I approached the doors, two guards stepped forward, blocking the path with their broad shoulders.

Oops!

I didn't see them coming.

"Private meeting, lady," the taller one grunted. "No guests allowed. Turn around and enjoy the party."

I tilted my head and took a slow look at both of them, from head to toe.

The tall guard seemed to be a hired mercenary, as he was wearing heavy boots and there was no house badge on his chest.

The shorter guard kept shifting from foot to foot, his eyes nervously darting down the hallway every few seconds. He looked terrified. Of what? Being caught slacking?

I chuckled internally.

They were just muscle and nothing else.

But to win wars, you do not always need physical strength. Right?

I took a small, confident step closer, invading their personal space, crossed my arms, and looked up at them with a smirk on my lips.

They were slightly intimidated.

Interesting.

"Relax. I am not here to crash your party," I said in a low, dead-serious voice. "I just need to drop a message."

The guards frowned, looking at each other in confusion.

"What message?"

"I just received critical intel regarding Julian Kovacs' death. Mr. Salvatore needs to hear the information directly from me before he makes his next move tonight."

The short guard's breath hitched, but he tried to maintain his composure. He narrowed his eyes at me. "Who the hell are you to tell us this?"

A slow, confident smile spread across my lips as I reached into my clutch and pulled out my identity card.

"SPECIAL INVESTIGATOR – CRIMINOLOGY & FORENSIC INTEL"

Both of them shared a hesitant look, and I knew I had already hit the right nerve.

"Now..."

My voice dropped to an icy whisper as I held their gaze, narrowed my eyes, and silently commanded them to step aside.

I didn't want to spend any more energy on them.

And as expected, without asking another question, they stepped aside to let me through.

Idiots!

I smoothed down my dress and took a deep breath. Etiquette says we should always knock on the door before entering.

So I pushed open the door instead!

The door hit the interior wall with a sharp thud, and every single head around the mahogany table turned to me.

The heavy air, thick with the scent of expensive cigars, leather, and high-end bourbon, went dead still.

I didn't let a single flicker of hesitation show on my face as I straightened my back and stepped inside. My gaze moved directly to the man sitting at the head of the table.

His lips remained parted, as he must have been speaking before I interrupted. I could bet he was shocked to see me here, because those eyes, usually as hard as stone, dilated just a fraction of an inch.

My lips curved up in a devilish smirk as I stared back into his eyes and whispered,

"Hello, Mr. Husband."