Chapter 3 - THE FIRST LIE LARKIN ADMITTED
Larkin did not deny that either.
That scared Penelope.
They moved into a private lounge upstairs, far from the ballroom.
Thomas was excluded.
He complained.
Larkin closed the door in his face.
Penelope remained standing.
“Tell me everything.”
“You won’t like it.”
“I already spent five thousand dollars tonight. I’d like to get something useful.”
His mouth almost moved.
Almost a smile.
Then it vanished.
“When my father died, the organization was collapsing. Crews were fighting. Money disappeared. Thomas wanted to restore the old structure.”
“Violence.”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“I centralized everything.”
“That’s the polished corporate machine I’ve been balancing.”
“Yes.”
“You’re saying that like I should applaud.”
“I’m not.”
Penelope crossed her arms.
“Why did my mother think you were dangerous?”
“Because when I was nineteen, I told her what I would do if my father died.”
“What?”
“Take control.”
“That’s it?”
“And remove anyone who resisted.”
The words were calm.
Too calm.
Penelope remembered exactly why she had spent three years becoming furniture.
Larkin continued.
“Eleanor told me power turns frightened men cruel and intelligent men arrogant.”
“She sounds right.”
“She usually was.”
Penelope looked at him sharply.
“You knew her personally.”
“Yes.”
“How personally?”
“She taught me accounting.”
Penelope stared.
That was absurd enough to be believable.
“My mother taught a future crime boss accounting?”
“She said criminals would be less dangerous if they understood cash flow.”
Penelope laughed despite herself.
Then anger returned.
“Why invite me tonight?”
“I didn’t.”
“What?”
“Thomas put your name on my guest list.”
Penelope replayed Friday.
Larkin stopping at her desk.
Thomas smiling behind glass.
“You still told me to come.”
“Because removing you after Thomas added you would have told him I cared whether you were here.”
“Do you?”
Larkin looked at her.
Too long.
“That isn’t tonight’s problem.”
Her heartbeat betrayed her.
She hated it.
“What is tonight’s problem?”
Larkin opened his phone.
A photograph appeared.
Penelope’s apartment building.
Taken that morning.
Another photograph.
Her walking to work.
Another.
Her entering the Fifth Avenue boutique.
Someone had followed her.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You run half this city.”
“Not half.”
“Comforting.”
“The photographs were sent to me at six tonight.”
“With what message?”
Larkin turned the phone.
BRING ELEANOR’S DAUGHTER TO THE GALA.
Penelope’s blood went cold.
“They knew I was coming before I arrived?”
“Yes.”
“Then this isn’t about Thomas embarrassing me.”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have stayed home.”
“Correct.”
“And whoever wants you would have changed tactics somewhere I couldn’t control.”
Penelope stared.
“You used me as bait.”
“I put sixty men in this building before you arrived.”
“That is not a denial.”
“No.”
She walked toward the door.
Larkin caught her wrist.
Not hard.
“Penelope.”
“Let go.”
He did immediately.
Good.
She looked back.
“Never make a decision about my safety without me again.”
His eyes changed.
“Understood.”
Then the fire alarm sounded.
Not loud.
Just one short electronic chirp.
Then silence.
Larkin went still.
“What?”
“That’s not a fire alarm.”
He reached inside his jacket.
Penelope’s stomach tightened.
“What is it?”
“Security signal.”
The ballroom lights flickered once.
Larkin looked toward the door.
“Someone just opened the hotel safe room.”
“Why does that matter?”
His face turned cold.
“Because the only thing inside it tonight is a sealed envelope delivered three hours ago.”
“From whom?”
He looked directly at her.
“The envelope says Eleanor Woods.”
May you like
Penelope stopped breathing.
And the handwriting on the front was her mother’s.
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