Chapter 4 - The Lion’s DenThe penthouse suite of the Valenti Tower on Fifth Avenue was a monument to excessive wealth and unearned power. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, jazz music drifted softly from a live quartet, and the city lights twinkled like distant stars through floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
Sophia moved through the crowd wearing a stunning, backless emerald evening gown that contrasted sharply with the micro-fiber combat knife strapped to her thigh and the encrypted communication earpiece hidden behind her left ear.
“Status, bird?” Julian’s voice whispered in her ear from the command van parked three blocks away.
“I’m past the main security checkpoint,” Sophia murmured softly into her collar as she accepted a glass of champagne from a passing tray. “The biometric scanner on the third-floor hallway was child’s play. I’m heading toward Valenti’s private study now.”
“Be careful, Sophia. Valenti’s head of security, a brute named Gregor, is stationed outside that door. If he spots you—”
“He won’t,” Sophia replied smoothly.
She rounded the corner of the polished mahogany hallway just as Gregor—a mountain of a man with a broken nose and a scarred neck—stepped away from the study doors to accept a cigar from a junior mobster.
Sophia didn’t hesitate. She stepped out of the shadows, her expression shifting instantly into one of flustered distress.
“Oh, excuse me!” she gasped, stumbling slightly and spilling a fraction of her champagne onto Gregor’s expensive wool suit jacket.
“Watch it, lady—” Gregor growled, glaring down at her.
“I am so, so sorry! The crowd in there is just overwhelming, and I was looking for the powder room—” Sophia fluttered her eyelashes, pressing her hand against his chest as if steadying herself.
In that fraction of a second, her fingers—coated in a high-potency liquid neurotoxin patch—brushed against the exposed skin of his neck.
Gregor opened his mouth to bark another curse, but his eyes suddenly glazed over. His knees buckled, and before he could hit the floor, Sophia caught him by the collar, dragging his unconscious bulk swiftly behind a large decorative marble pillar.
“Nicely done,” Julian’s voice hummed in her ear, filled with suppressed laughter. “You’re terrifying when you flirt.”
“Focus, Blackwood,” Sophia whispered, slipping her customized digital override key into the penthouse study’s electronic lock panel.
May you like
Click.
The heavy oak door swung silently open. Sophia slipped inside, locking it behind her.
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