“You were a liability,” he said, taking a sip. “And Arthur Sterling was getting too close to the shipping routes I’m using. By feeding the FBI the Chelsea layout under your name, I solved two problems at once.”

“You used my savings to fund the shipment,” I said. “And now you’re laundering the profits through Khloe’s charity auction.”

“It’s called business, Kate,” he said, stepping closer, his face inches from mine. “And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing the silver brooch on my dress.

My breath hitched.

Before he could touch the clasp, the screen of my phone in my clutch purse lit up with a bright, sudden flash.

I grabbed the purse before he could reach it.

The leather felt cold against my palms.

“I have to go,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible.

“Khloe is expecting me to oversee the media check.”

Tristan sneered, his hand dropping back to his side with an irritated flick of his wrist.

“Run along then, Kate,” he said.

“Just remember your place in all of this.”