Chapter 6 - The Glass and the Cipher
Ten minutes later, we were back inside the glittering expanse of the grand ballroom, the string quartet playing a lively Vivaldi concerto that masked the high-stakes tension simmering beneath our polite smiles.
"Are you completely out of your mind?" Julian hissed over the secure earpiece as Damon relayed my plan. "Marcus is surrounded by his personal security detail. You can't just walk up and steal a used champagne glass out of his hand without triggering an international incident."
"I'm not going to steal it out of his hand," I murmured quietly, slipping a small, empty crystal dessert plate and a pristine linen napkin from a passing waiter's tray while Damon shielded me with his broad shoulders. "You are going to create a distraction, Damon."
Damon looked down at me, a low, rumbling chuckle vibrating in his chest. "And what kind of distraction do you have in mind, Hannah?"
"Something expensive," I flashed a wicked, brilliant smile that caught him completely off guard. "Drop a multi-million-dollar acquisition hint to one of Victor’s primary financial backers standing near the buffet. Make it loud enough for Marcus to overhear."
Before Damon could argue, I slipped away into the crowd, blending seamlessly among the silk gowns and tailored tuxedos. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, but my hands remained steady. I watched as Damon smoothly approached a group of influential investors near the far corner of the ballroom, casually dropping a loud, calculated remark about moving the Grand Horizon's European capital reserves into a competing syndicate's portfolio.
As predicted, Marcus Vance’s head snapped up like a hunting dog catching a scent. His face contorted with sudden, desperate fury. Abandoning his conversation, Marcus shoved past two state senators, slammed his half-empty crystal champagne flute down onto a nearby mahogany cocktail table, and stormed across the room toward Damon.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Vale?" Marcus snarled, stepping directly into Damon’s personal space.
"Enjoying the music, Marcus," Damon replied smoothly, his tone ice-cold and utterly unbothered. "You look tense. Perhaps you need a drink."
While all eyes in the immediate vicinity locked onto the brewing confrontation between the two corporate titans, I slipped past the cocktail table like a ghost. My fingers wrapped delicately around the stem of Marcus’s discarded champagne flute. Using the pristine linen napkin, I carefully avoided smudging the residual moisture and oils on the crystal rim, sliding the glass directly into my evening clutch.
Mission accomplished.
I turned to slip back toward the exit, but a heavy hand suddenly clamped down on my wrist.
I froze.
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"Well, well, well," a smooth, venomous voice whispered right beside my ear. "If it isn't the brilliant little auditor who doesn't know when to mind her own business."
I turned slowly to find Marcus Vance staring down at me, his eyes dark, paranoid, and filled with quiet malice.
