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having to pretend he was unaware. She wondered how many unsavoury characters he’d seen come and go. How many names he’d left off the official visitor’s log.

She turned and saw two men in suits coming down the staircase. They both ticked all the boxes she expected. They were big, and they looked like they were ex-military, and they looked mean, but they kept that whole package suppressed under expensive suits that did a pretty terrible job of blending them into corporate America. They didn’t belong in boardrooms, but the nature of their current work kept them confined to those sorts of spaces.

They were just waiting for an opportunity to release a little testosterone.

If they so much as antagonised her, she’d give them an excuse to.

It wouldn’t go well for them.

Patience, she told herself.

She pushed off the reception desk and waltzed toward them across the space. She offered a hand to the bigger of the two — the guy on the left. He was bald and strong-jawed and black-eyed. He took it suspiciously, but shook it anyway.

She said, ‘I am Ana.’

‘Tony,’ he said. ‘This is Eric.’

She nodded warmly to Eric but got a cold glare in return, so she refocused her attention on Tony. At least he’d shaken her hand without needing prompting.

‘Has your boss warned you about me, Tony?’ Violetta said.

Tony looked her up and down. He wasn’t subtle about it. She could see his thought process unfolding in real time. Something like, Gloria said it’d be an old Russian woman. Now I’m looking at a fairly young, very attractive Russian woman.

He said, ‘She might have.’

‘You have nothing to worry about, my dear,’ she said. ‘I am friendly. See?’

She mock-curtsied.

Eric didn’t react.

Tony managed a half-smile.

‘Come with us,’ Tony said. ‘We’ll get you taken care of upstairs.’

When he turned around, she patted him on the rear. ‘I like you taking care of me, Tony.’

He shook his head, flabbergasted, and quickened his pace to get away from the woman he’d probably labelled a crazy bitch.

But that’s the thing about crazy…

Sometimes it’s the most alluring.

Eric wasn’t buying it. He was squat and cube-like and seemed as if he could break her in half with his bare hands. He turned to her and said, ‘No games. We know what you’re here for.’

She batted her eyes, her gaze innocent. ‘I am here for a conversation, Eric.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘You’re not.’

They took her upstairs and Eric demanded to be the one to frisk her. He clearly sensed weakness in his colleague, and weakness was rife to be exploited. He took her to a bare room and searched her professionally for guns and wires. Finding neither, he took her clutch away and locked it in a small safe outside to prove he wasn’t going to invade her privacy. Then he gestured her down the hallway.

Flanked by the pair of bodyguards, she went to the door at the end and knocked lightly on the wood.

‘Come in,’ a muffled female voice said.

She looked over his shoulder. ‘What I have to say requires … privacy. You two will wait out here?’

‘That’s what we searched you for,’ Eric said, and nodded his approval. ‘Go right ahead.’

She might have respected them for taking their jobs seriously if she wasn’t aware they were protecting a corrupt DA abusing her power to propagate an underage sex trafficking operation.

But Violetta was aware.

So instead of warning them to get the hell out of Dodge before shit hit the fan, she nodded curtly to them and slipped into the office.

Where she came face to face with Gloria Kerr.

30

Severe was the first thing that came to mind when Violetta saw Kerr.

And it was the only word that stayed on it.

Everything from the hair yanked back tight against her skull, the pronounced cheekbones, the pale skin, the light blue eyes, the thin lips. She looked like a wraith. It only shocked Violetta because, doing research the night before, she’d seen a handful of Kerr’s media appearances. In public, the woman was a different creature entirely. Warm and glowing and intimate, addressing every question from journalists with sincere respect, never once wavering from the performance.

And it was just that.

A performance.

She was a chameleon, given the withering stare she sent in Violetta’s direction upon entering.

Kerr sat behind a broad desk made to look rustic, with faded metal and faux chips and scratches across the designer surface. Her desk chair was expensive, too, high-backed and ribbed with support. She didn’t get up for a greeting.

Which was understandable. The newcomer had threatened to ruin her.

Violetta had never expected politeness.

Kerr said, ‘Ana, is it?’

Proving she had a live connection to Tony and Eric, and had heard every word of the conversation downstairs.

Violetta smirked and said, ‘It is.’

‘Seducing my men won’t work,’ she said. ‘If that’s really the route you’re trying to take.’

‘I seduce everyone, darling. Whether I intend to or not.’

Kerr rolled her eyes.

‘Sit down,’ she said, ‘and tell me what you’re so desperate to share in-person.’

‘It is nice to meet you, too.’

‘Shut up.’

Kerr shot daggers across the room. Violetta didn’t mind. Withering stares were her forte. She returned the favour as she sauntered across the space. The floor-to-ceiling windows opposite Kerr’s desk faced out over downtown Vegas. They were only three floors up, but the building across the street was single-storey and her office was large enough to offer a panoramic view. Violetta counted five or six streets in sight before she turned away and sat down in the chair opposite Kerr.

Kerr sat forward, put her slender arms on the metal surface of the table, and looked right into Violetta’s eyes.

A weaker person might have wilted.

Violetta remained straight-backed, unperturbed.

She said, ‘Shall we talk? Or are you going to keep trying to intimidate me?’

Kerr said, ‘There’s something you don’t know.’

‘What is that?’

‘You met Tony. You met Eric. Neither of them are on my payroll. Neither of them live in Vegas. In fact, neither of them live anywhere. Do you know why?’

Violetta didn’t bother to grace her with a response.

Kerr said, ‘Tony and Eric

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