Page 40 of The One-Night Heist

The Divanis owned a private jet—as most of us did—and therefore, could have easily flown home from the island resort to pay their respects. Instead, their absence at Mother’s wake was noticeable, especially considering how Abraham was one of the original shareholders to go into business with the late Thomas Luxford.

Not for the first time, I cursed my father’s decision to create Luxford Holdings as an egalitarian company, where wealth was democratically shared, and all participant-owners had equal voting rights. It was a good business model in theory, except when clusters of shareholders formed opportunistic alliances for the sole purpose of lining their pockets with “dark money” kickbacks hidden within shell company paper trails. Even with the additional shares I now owned after my mother’s death, it wasn’t enough to compete against the greedy majority when it came to deciding where and how to spend Luxford Holdings money.

Playing Robin Hood is next to impossible when the rich are the only ones being fed.

My ultimate dream—as lofty as it may be—was to change the vicious corporate cycle, but in order to achieve that, I needed to first get myself out from under the shareholders’ collective boots. Selling Mother’s art collection for the highest price possible would do just that, but as far as my opponents knew, I was simply clearing out wall space to make the Luxford family apartment my own.

“And where is your lovely wife, Abraham?” Ana cooed, offering him a freshly-manicured hand in an unenthusiastic greeting. “Not being cornered by Stanley, I hope…”

What?

Stanley Monmouth was another shareholder, even more abhorrent in his underhanded dealings than Abraham and his cronies. While he was one of the only unmarried men in the bunch, I couldn’t say I’d ever seen him “cornering” Stella Divani…

Not that being married makes any difference with these types.

“I… should go check on my wife,” Abraham muttered, tearing his confused gaze away from Ana to scan the crowd. “And get a refill, of course.”

Of course.

I raised my—mostly untouched—glass of wine in acknowledgement as he spun on his heel and stalked away, before turning to my longtime friend.

“Why are you stirring the pot, Ana?” I hissed. “Stanley Monmouth⁠—”

“Stanley Monmouth was so drunk he put his hand up my skirt at the last one of these… things.” Ana waved her hand angrily as I snapped my mouth shut.

Excuse me?!

“What? W-where the hell was I?” I stuttered, beyond ashamed I hadn’t been there to defend her at the time.

“Busy performing exactly the right amount of socializing your name requires, even though I know it does not come naturally to you.” She huffed and placed a hand on my cheek, comforting me when I should have been providing that for her. “How such a sweet boy ended up in a world like this is beyond me…”

You and me both.

The flash of a paparazzi’s camera had me schooling my expression into something more pleasant, even as I snarled through my smile, “I’m going to go talk to Monmouth.”

“You will do no such thiiing,” she sang through her own smile before nodding in the direction Divani had gone. “Let the wolves eat each other, Gianechka. Them not seeing you as a threat is a good thing. It keeps you safe. Not to mention…” She took a dainty sip of her wine. “Why give them another scandal to talk about?”

Oh, the irony…

The urge to tell Ana what I was doing—and why—was strong, but I knew I couldn’t. Anastasia Bosco loved to gossip, and as much as she judged the “scandals” of our world, I knew she fed on them just as hungrily as anyone else.

And I would hate to drag her into my mess.

I recalled how Rowen had made me swear not to tell anyone about our plan, including “Daddy Pinstripes,” as he called Franz. The irony was that Franz was the last person I would tell, given how highly he valued art—not just professionally but on a personal level. Me disrespecting the integrity of what he’d been raised to live and breathe would be heartbreaking to him, and no doubt negatively affect our relationship. Even if Franz would have listened to the rationale behind my choices with the same compassion he always gave me, his disappointment would hurt me the most.

It’s better for both of us that he doesn’t know anything.

“You’re lucky you managed to escape all this, Ana,” I murmured as the string quartet transitioned from elegant background music to a more upbeat tempo, signaling the next phase of the performance we were all a part of. “I hope I can one day do the same.”

She hummed thoughtfully as I set our glasses on a passing tray and led her onto the dance floor. “Well, it helped that my father sold their unit and moved us all back to Russia. That allowed me to make my own way—not just here in the city but abroad.” When I simply nodded, she continued, “You know… you could do the same now that your mother is gone. Leave town and start fresh, I mean.”

“I know.” I pulled her close as we danced, hoping she knew how much I valued her support, even if I was being deceitful in return. “I have thought about traveling again, but now…”

She gasped and pulled her head back to grin at me. “That’s right! You were so exhausted by a recent encounter that you spent the night at the hotel…”

“Ana…” I warned, even as I chuckled. “There’s nothing to tell.”

She scoffed and pressed her cheek against mine so she could whisper in my ear. “That is bullshit, Giancarlo Luxford. You are positively blushing, and I know it’s not the wine because you’ve barely had a sip tonight. You’ve met someone special. Start talking!”