At twenty-eight, I was just another black-uniformed server at Le Rêve, one of Manhattan’s most exclusive restaurants.

By midnight, I was sitting behind a massive oak desk in Dominic's private study, wrapped in an oversized grey cashmere sweater and dark leggings Marcus had provided.

The room smelled of old leather books, expensive cigars, and rain.

Across from me sat Dominic, watching my hands fly across a military-grade laptop hooked up to an encrypted satellite dish. Natalia stood beside the door, monitoring radio traffic on her earpiece.

"How long will it take?" Dominic asked, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"My father designed the Voronin encryption using an old Soviet military cipher," I explained, not taking my eyes off the green lines of code cascading down the screen. "It relies on a double-layer mathematical key. Most hackers would take six months to crack the first wall. I can bypass it in ten minutes because I helped him write the algorithm when I was nineteen."

Dominic let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Nineteen? When I was nineteen, I was stealing cars in Queens."

"Clearly, we had different upbringings," I murmured with a faint smile.

For the first time all night, Dominic smiled back—a real, genuine smile that softened the rough, intimidating lines of his face. He looked breathtakingly handsome when he wasn't trying to act like an invincible mob boss.

"Access granted," the laptop chimes softly.

Natalia rushed over to the desk. The screen flashed open, revealing a vast network of off-shore accounts spanning Switzerland, the Cayman Islands, and Liechtenstein.

The total balance displayed at the top left us all breathless: $482,000,000.

"Mother of God," Natalia whispered. "It's all here. Every illegal transaction Voronin has made over the last decade."

"Can you transfer it?" Dominic asked, his dark eyes glowing with intense determination.

"I can transfer it into a neutral Directorate escrow account," I said, my fingers hovering over the enter key. "It will freeze Voronin's liquidity instantly. He won't be able to pay his soldiers, his shipping captains, or his corrupt politicians by sunrise."

"Do it," Dominic growled softly.

I pressed the key. The progress bar loaded to one hundred percent, flashing a bright green message: TRANSFER COMPLETE. ACCOUNTS FROZEN.