He slid it across the desk, stopping it right next to the folder.

The screen showed a press release for the upcoming Autumn Solstice Gala.

My name was listed at the bottom as the lead public relations coordinator.

“You are organizing this event,” Arthur said.

“It’s just a charity dinner,” I said.

“It is the biggest gathering of venture capitalists in New York this year,” he corrected.

“Tristan is going to be there,” I said.

“Yes,” Arthur said. “And so is Khloe Dupont.”

He stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

He looked out over the glittering, wet grid of Manhattan.

“Khloe’s family controls the shipping yards,” he said.

“They have the liquidity Tristan needs to cover his losses.”

“If he gets her father to sign the contract, he pays you back,” I said.

Arthur turned around, a hard smile on his lips.

“He won’t pay me back,” Arthur said. “He will run to a non-extradition country.”

He walked back to the desk and stood over me, his shadow falling across my lap.

“I need to be in that room when the pitch happens.”