Chapter 1 - THE MAN WHO STOPPED LAUGHING
Larkin reached me before anyone else dared.
He stopped less than three feet away.
For one second, neither of us spoke.
His eyes moved over the gown.
The hair.
The lipstick.
Then back to my face.
“You changed.”
Not hello.
Not you look beautiful.
Just an observation.
I smiled.
“So did the dress code.”
Behind him, Thomas appeared.
His disappointment was almost delicious.
“Well,” he said. “Look who learned how mirrors work.”
I turned toward him.
“Good evening, Thomas.”
His eyebrows lifted.
I never used his first name at the office.
Always Mr. Steves.
Always quiet.
Always invisible.
He recovered quickly.
“Careful, Penelope. One dress doesn’t make you dangerous.”
“No.”
I picked up a glass of champagne from a passing tray.
“But a balance sheet sometimes does.”
Thomas’s smile faltered.
Larkin heard it too.
His eyes sharpened.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
I took one sip.
Too expensive.
Too dry.
Too late to turn back.
The Continental ballroom glittered with money that probably had blood underneath it.
Judges.
Developers.
Nightclub owners.
Men who owned trucking companies with no trucks.
Women wearing diamonds large enough to qualify as emergency currency.
I recognized several faces from invoices.
That was the problem with bookkeeping.
People eventually become numbers.
And numbers become patterns.
Then I saw a man near the far bar.
Silver hair.
Green tie.
Small scar beside his mouth.
I knew him.
Not personally.
From wire-transfer authorizations.
Hollis Crane.
Owner of Crane Industrial Supply.
A company that had billed Larkin’s businesses more than four million dollars for “construction materials.”
Materials that never appeared on any inventory report.
Crane saw me looking.
His face changed.
Then he walked away.
Interesting.
Larkin noticed.
“You know him?”
“No.”
“Then why did he run?”
“I don’t know.”
Thomas laughed.
“Maybe he saw the lipstick.”
I ignored him.
Then a woman approached.
Tall.
Silver gown.
Dark hair.
She greeted Larkin with a kiss on the cheek.
“Finally.”
He stiffened slightly.
That was new.
“Vivienne.”
She looked at me.
“And this is?”
“My secretary.”
The word hit wrong.
Not because it was false.
Because tonight it sounded deliberately small.
Vivienne’s gaze moved over me.
Then her smile changed.
“Oh.”
Not impressed.
Recognizing.
My stomach tightened.
“You know me?”
She looked at Larkin.
“You didn’t tell her?”
He went still.
Thomas stopped smiling.
I looked between them.
“Tell me what?”
Vivienne reached into her silver clutch.
Pulled out a folded card.
Handed it to me.
Embossed at the top:
P. WOODS CONSULTING LLC.
My name.
My last name.
An address in Delaware.
I stared.
“I don’t own a consulting company.”
Vivienne looked genuinely confused.
“That’s strange.”
She turned the card over.
On the back:
PENELOPE WOODS — MANAGING MEMBER.
Then she said:
“Because your company bought one of my warehouses last month.”
My heart began pounding.
“How much?”
“Three point eight million.”
I looked at Larkin.
For the first time that night, he looked dangerous for a reason that had nothing to do with me.
Thomas took one step backward.
Too small.
Too late.
Larkin saw it.
“Thomas.”
His cousin smiled.
“Don’t look at me.”
I looked at the card again.
P. Woods Consulting.
My name.
My identity.
My supposed company.
Then Vivienne added:
“And whoever signed the purchase documents used your social security number.”
The champagne glass nearly slipped from my hand.
May you like
Someone had not invited me to the gala to humiliate me.
Someone had invited me because my name was already inside the room.
