Page 200 of Ricardo

“I’ll get Matteo,” he says. “Tomasso can access hotel security through our team.”

Then he leaves.

It has to be enough for now.

I return to Mario and Julia.

Victoria has not moved from Julia’s side. Good. Julia is still watching Rusk, though she is trying to make it look as if she is watching the room in general.

“Dante is moving,” I tell Mario.

Mario nods once. “Good.”

Across the ballroom, Dante speaks to Matteo near the bar. Matteo’s expression changes for half a second, then he sets down his glass and pulls his phone from inside his jacket. Tomasso joins them, listens for less than thirty seconds, then his gaze slides toward Rusk, and away again before it can linger too long.

The gala continues around us.

Music. Laughter. Glasses lifted under gold light. The soft, expensive sound of a room full of people eating well, drinking well, and congratulating themselves on their own accomplishments.

No one knows anything has changed.

That is the art of it.

Rusk remains with Owen near the sponsor wall. He does not appear hurried. He does not look nervous. He is smiling, one hand around his champagne glass, the other occasionally moving as he speaks.

Owen looks worse every time I glance at him.

That tells me something.

It tells me that Owen knows exactly who he's talking to.

Julia’s voice is low beside me. “Owen may not know what he walked into.”

I look down at her.

She is still facing the room, but she is speaking to me.

“You are thinking loudly,” she adds.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“What am I thinking?”

“That Owen looks guilty.”

“He looks frightened.”

“It doesn't negate his guilt.”

A foolish man can be frightened because he has realized too late that the favor he agreed to carry was heavier than promised. A weak man can be frightened because he knows he sold more than he meant to sell. A traitor can be frightened because he has been caught.

The question is which version of Owen stands across the room.

“We will find out,” I say.

Her mouth tightens. “Yeah.”