A Mafia Boss Ignored Every Beautiful Woman At His Gala — Then Chose The Woman Who Had Enough Evidence To Send Him To Prison.
PART 3
“A frightened junior accountant.”
“I’m a senior forensic analyst.”
“My information was outdated.”
“Apparently.”
“I also expected a man.”
Emma gave him a humorless smile. “That part is rarely outdated. People usually assume the person who found the fraud must be a man.”
“That was not an insult.”
“It was not a compliment either.”
Damian’s gaze moved briefly over her, but there was no mockery in it.
“You’ve spent the evening trying to disappear.”
Emma stiffened. “I’ve been working.”
“You chose the darkest corner. You keep pulling your dress down when it doesn’t need to be pulled down. You place that folder over your body whenever someone looks at you.”
She set the folder on the table.
“Stop analyzing me.”
“Then stop being interesting.”
Across the room, Isabella was still watching them.
Emma nodded toward the models. “You had twenty-four interesting options waiting.”
“They were Valerie’s idea.”
“You didn’t request them?”
“I requested privacy. Valerie misunderstood.”
“Twenty-four times?”
Damian’s mouth curved slightly.
Emma hated that the small expression changed his entire face. He looked less like a statue built to frighten men and more like a living person who had forgotten how to smile.
“Why did you stop in front of me?” she asked.
“Because you had the ledger.”
“That’s the only reason?”
His eyes dropped to her lips.
“No.”
Heat moved into her face. Emma looked away first. She reminded herself that attraction did not make a dangerous man safe. It only made him more dangerous.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“You tell me exactly what you found.”
“And then?”
“I determine who is using my accounts.”
“Your accounts are already being used for money laundering.”
“Yes.”
The calm admission stunned her.
“You’re not even going to deny it?”
“I don’t insult intelligent people with unnecessary lies.”
“You’re admitting to a federal crime.”
“To a woman who has already documented it.”
Emma stared at him. “You are either remarkably honest or deeply arrogant.”
“Both.”
Before she could respond, Mateo touched the earpiece hidden beneath his collar. His expression hardened.
“Boss.”
Damian turned.
The first gunshot shattered the chandelier over the dance floor.
Screams ripped through the ballroom. Damian threw himself over Emma as glass exploded across their table. The impact drove her chair backward, but his arm locked around her waist and pulled her to the floor.
“Stay down!”
A second burst of gunfire tore through the velvet curtains. Guests ran in every direction. Tables overturned. The models who had posed so elegantly moments earlier crawled beneath the sofas.
Damian covered Emma with his body. She felt his heart pounding against her shoulder, fast but steady. He drew a handgun from beneath his jacket.
“Mateo, west entrance!”
Mateo and two guards returned fire while another dragged an injured server behind the booth.
Emma pressed herself against the floor. Through a gap beneath the table, she saw one of the gunmen moving toward the stage. He wore black tactical clothing with no insignia, but there was a narrow gray stripe around his right wrist.
Emma had seen that mark before. Not on a uniform. On an invoice.
Blackridge Protective Services had billed the charity six hundred thousand dollars for security that did not exist. Its corporate logo was a gray band crossing a black shield.
The fake security company was now attacking the gala.
Emma reached for Damian’s sleeve.
“The shooters are connected to the ledger.”
He looked down at her.
“Blackridge Protective Services,” she said. “They received money through Calder Freight.”
A bullet struck the table above them.
Damian pulled Emma closer and fired twice toward the stage.
“Can you identify the owner?”
“The listed owner is dead.”
“Then who controls it?”
“I need the complete account records.”
“You’ll have them.”
The gunfire stopped as suddenly as it had begun. A heavy silence followed. Then Mateo shouted, “East side clear!”
Damian rose first, scanning the ballroom. He pulled Emma up and immediately checked her arms, face, and shoulders.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
His hands stopped at her waist.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
The ballroom was destroyed around them. Crystal glittered across the floor. Guests cried beneath tables. Smoke drifted below the ceiling.
But Damian looked at Emma as though nothing else existed.
“You protected me,” she whispered.
“I told you I would.”
A man near the stage groaned. Mateo hurried toward him.
Damian released Emma reluctantly.
“We leave now.”
“I need my purse.”
One of Damian’s guards retrieved it from beneath the ruined table.
Emma checked inside.
The encrypted drive was still there.
Her phone was not.
She turned toward the alcove where she had been working.
Paul Mercer stood near the kitchen doors.
Her managing partner should have been across town. He was staring at her with an expression that was not relief. It was fury.
When their eyes met, he disappeared into the kitchen.
“Damian,” Emma said.
“What?”