“He will destroy everything if he suspects we are doing this,” I said.

“Then we make sure he doesn’t suspect a thing,” Julian replied.

The next evening, the grand ballroom of The Monarch was draped in white silk and lit by towering crystal chandeliers.

The scent of expensive lilies and champagne filled the air.

I stood near the mezzanine railing, watching the crowd of Manhattan’s elite move across the marble floor below.

Bennett stood in the center of the room, wearing a tailored Tom Ford tuxedo.

Celeste Monroe stood at his side, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

She wore an emerald green silk gown that caught the light every time she turned to laugh.

She was talking to the deputy mayor, her eyes scanning the room like a hawk looking for prey.

Bennett looked up and caught my eye through the crowd.

He raised his champagne flute to me, his smile wide and completely victorious.

I raised my own glass, nodding back with a calm I did not feel.

Marta had texted me an hour ago to confirm that Bennett’s driver had picked up the final signed contracts for the expansion loan.