Every employee in the VIP penthouse lounge stopped breathing.

The grand ballroom of the Morreti Tower was drowning in champagne, classical music, and dangerous men hiding behind expensive tuxedos.

Clara stood by the bar, sipping sparkling water, her eyes scanning the crowd just as Julian had instructed. Julian was across the room, surrounded by his board of directors, but Clara noticed his eyes flicked to her every thirty seconds to ensure she was safe.

"You must be the famous Clara Vance."

Clara turned. A tall, impossibly handsome man with slicked-back hair and a predatory smile stood beside her. He held a glass of champagne.

"And you are?" Clara asked coldly.

"Dante Romano," the man smiled, though his eyes were dead. "I hear my men caused quite a mess at that diner a few weeks ago. My apologies. We didn't know Morreti was hiding such a gorgeous asset."

Clara’s blood turned to ice. This was the head of the rival syndicate.

"I'm not an asset," Clara said, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "I'm his assistant."

Dante leaned in, his voice dropping to a toxic whisper. "Julian Morreti is a dead man walking, Clara. The board is turning on him. Tonight, we finalize the takeover. If you want to survive the bloodbath, you should walk out those doors right now and get into my car."

"She isn't going anywhere."

The voice cut through the ballroom noise like a scythe.

Julian appeared behind Clara, his massive frame radiating pure, unfiltered violence. The air around them seemed to freeze. Several guests nearby nervously backed away.