Chapter 4 - The Bratva's Interest
The music in the ballroom abruptly stopped.
Tension cracked through the air like a whip as Victor pressed the barrel of his silver pistol directly into Thomas's ribcage.
Larkin did not flinch, but his winter-ocean eyes darkened with lethal promise.
"You are causing a scene at my table, Victor," Larkin said evenly.
"Your cousin owes me five million dollars," Victor replied, his gold-capped teeth glinting in the chandelier light.
"He promised me the Cayman ledger tonight as collateral."
Thomas was trembling violently, the bravado from just moments ago entirely vaporized.
"He's lying, Larkin," Thomas stammered.
"Shut up," Larkin snapped, never taking his eyes off the Russian boss.
Victor shifted his gaze from the sweating underboss to the woman standing perfectly still beside Larkin.
He looked Penelope up and down, a predatory curiosity replacing his anger.
"And who is this?" Victor murmured.
"She does not look like a woman who types memos."
"I am the one who audits the ledgers," Penelope said clearly, stepping forward.
Larkin shot her a warning glance, but she ignored it.
"If Thomas promised you five million from the Caymans, he lied to you."
Victor's smile vanished.
"And how would you know that, little bird?"
"Because the Cayman accounts don't hold cash," Penelope lied smoothly, maintaining eye contact with a man who had murdered dozens.
"They hold real estate deeds wrapped in shell companies."
Victor tilted his head, genuinely impressed by her brazen confidence.
"You are very brave, or very stupid, to speak to me this way."
"I am simply accurate," Penelope replied, her heart hammering against her ribs.
She knew she had to defuse the situation before the mysterious assassin from her text message took their shot.
"If you shoot him now, you get nothing but a mess on your shoes."
Victor chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that echoed in the silent room.
He slowly lowered his weapon and released Thomas, who nearly collapsed against the ice sculpture.
"I like her, Steves," Victor said, turning his back on them.
"Keep her close."
Larkin grabbed Penelope by the elbow and practically dragged her toward the private VIP alcoves.
"Are you out of your mind?" Larkin hissed, his fingers digging into her silk sleeve.
"I just saved your cousin's life," Penelope shot back, yanking her arm free.
Larkin stared at her, realizing she was breathing heavily, a faint flush of adrenaline coloring her cheeks.
"You lied to Victor," Larkin whispered.
"The Caymans hold liquid cash, not real estate."
"I know," Penelope said, her eyes darting nervously toward the ballroom balcony.
"But it bought us time to find out why exactly Thomas transferred that money into a Russian ghost account this morning."
Larkin froze, the color draining from his face as the betrayal hit him.
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Before he could process the fact that his secretary had just uncovered a massive syndicate coup, a red laser dot flickered across Penelope's chest.
It moved swiftly, climbing up her collarbone and settling perfectly over Larkin's heart.
