My boss invited me to the most dangerous gala in New York because he wanted me to embarrass myself.

Julian Vance looked like a man who had been hit by a freight train.

His phone rang frantically in his pocket. He pulled it out, answered it on speaker, his hand shaking.

"Vance!" his head manager yelled over the line. "The port authorities just impounded all six ships at dock four! The union workers walked off the job because their paychecks bounced! The federal marshals are at the front gate with a warrant!"

Julian dropped his phone onto the carpet. The screen shattered.

"You..." Julian gasped, glaring at Larkin with pure hatred. "You orchestrated this!"

"I didn't do anything, Julian," Larkin replied smoothly, stepping around the table and standing beside me. "You built your empire on stolen money and bad accounting. We simply turned the lights on."

Julian’s eyes darted to me. "It was you. The girl from the gala."

"My name is Penelope Woods," I said, meeting his gaze with unshakeable dignity. "And your company is officially bankrupt."

Two federal agents in dark coats stepped through the door behind Julian, followed by several armed marshals.

"Julian Vance," the lead agent announced, pulling out a pair of steel handcuffs. "You are under arrest for federal wire fraud, racketeering, and illegal weapons trafficking."

As the agents slapped the cuffs onto Julian's wrists and led him away shouting curses, the entire private dining room fell into a quiet, peaceful calm.

Viktor Vane let out a low laugh, shaking his head as he raised his glass of wine. "Remind me never to hire you as my accountant, Ms. Woods. You're far too dangerous."

"She's not for hire, Viktor," Larkin said firm, wrapping his arm around my waist and drawing me close against his side. "She's my partner."

We walked out of The Grand Central Club into the cool autumn evening. The rain had finally stopped, leaving the streets of Manhattan glittering like diamonds under the city lights.

Our black SUV pulled up to the curb. Larkin opened the door for me, but before I stepped inside, I turned to look up at him.

"Partner?" I asked, a small smile playing on my lips.

Larkin grabbed both of my hands, pulling me close until our foreheads touched.

"Forty percent voting shares in Carlisle & Grant," Larkin whispered softly. "Full authority over the syndicate's financial operations. And a permanent desk right next to mine in the corner office."