Chapter 3 - The Woman Behind the Glasses
Penelope's first night inside Larkin Steves's penthouse began with an argument.
"I am not sleeping here."
"You are."
"I have work tomorrow."
"Someone tried to kill me."
"Yes. I noticed."
"And you identified the shooter before trained security."
"Because your trained security apparently doesn't review payroll."
Thomas coughed to hide a laugh.
Larkin's stare could have cracked stone.
Penelope folded her arms.
She was barefoot now, carrying her steel-tipped heels because one had broken during the evacuation.
The glamorous woman from the ballroom had mostly disappeared.
Her lipstick was faded. Her hair was messy. There was a small tear in her expensive gown.
Larkin found her somehow more distracting this way.
He hated that.
"Roman Vale has vanished," Thomas said. "Until we know who ordered the hit, Woods is exposed."
"Why me?"
Thomas gave her a look.
"You pushed the boss out of a bullet's path in front of two hundred people."
Penelope closed her eyes.
"Oh."
"Exactly."
Larkin handed her a glass of water.
She accepted it.
Their fingers touched.
Both noticed.
Both pretended not to.
By midnight, the penthouse had become a command center.
Security footage was collected.
Guest lists were checked.
Phones rang constantly.
Penelope sat at Larkin's dining table with her laptop open.
"Go to bed," Larkin said.
"No."
"That was an instruction."
"And this is your problem."
She rotated the screen.
Rows of transactions filled it.
Larkin leaned closer.
Penelope pointed to several transfers.
"Someone has been siphoning money from Steves-controlled companies for eleven months."
"I know."
"No. You know about the obvious theft."
His eyes narrowed.
"What obvious theft?"
"The accounts designed for you to discover."
Thomas moved closer.
Penelope opened another spreadsheet.
"These payments look legitimate individually. Insurance premiums. Freight surcharges. Consulting retainers. But they all eventually move through subsidiaries connected to one holding company."
"Vale?"
"No."
"Who?"
Penelope hesitated.
"Thomas Dixon."
Silence.
Thomas stopped breathing.
Larkin looked at his cousin.
Thomas stared at the screen.
"That's impossible."
"I didn't say you took it."
Penelope enlarged the dates.
"Someone used companies registered under your authorization credentials."
Thomas swore.
"Can you trace it?"
"Probably."
"How long?"
Penelope looked at Larkin.
"If nobody interrupts me?"
Larkin glanced at Thomas.
"Nobody interrupts her."
Four hours later, Penelope discovered the first name.
Graham Steves.
Larkin's uncle.
The man who had supposedly retired from the organization after Larkin's father died.
Except Graham had not retired.
He had been building something.
A shadow network.
And someone inside Larkin's organization had been helping him.
Penelope looked toward the windows.
Dawn was beginning to turn Manhattan gray.
Behind her, Larkin quietly placed a cup of black coffee beside her laptop.
She looked at it.
Then at him.
"You remembered how I take mine?"
"Two sugars."
She stared.
"You've never made me coffee."
"I've never owed you my life."
Something unexpectedly soft moved through her chest.
She immediately crushed it.
"You don't owe me anything."
"That's not how my world works."
"Then your world is stupid."
One corner of his mouth moved.
Almost a smile.
Penelope blinked.
"Did you just—"
"No."
"You nearly smiled."
"I didn't."
"Disturbing."
He sat across from her.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Larkin's expression changed.
"Why did you save me?"
Penelope frowned.
"What?"
"You knew what I did."
"The invitation?"
"The humiliation."
She looked down.
So he knew.
Good.
"Yes."
"And you still pushed me."
"A bullet isn't an appropriate punishment for being an ass."
His gaze dropped.
It was perhaps the closest thing to shame Penelope had ever seen on him.
"I shouldn't have invited you that way."
"No."
"Thomas suggested it."
"And you agreed."
"Yes."
"Don't blame Thomas for decisions you made."
Larkin stared at her.
Nobody spoke to him like that.
Penelope suddenly realized it.
She also realized she no longer cared.
"You wanted to humiliate me because you thought I was boring."
His voice was quiet.
"I was wrong."
"About which part?"
"All of it."
Her pulse betrayed her.
She looked back at the screen.
"Don't confuse a dress with a personality, Mr. Steves."
"Larkin."
She looked up.
"What?"
"You called me Larkin during the shooting."
"You were being shot at. Formality seemed inefficient."
"Keep being inefficient."
The room seemed suddenly smaller.
Penelope stood.
"I need sleep."
She reached for the laptop.
Larkin's phone rang.
Thomas answered instead.
His face changed.
"Larkin."
Something in his tone made everyone freeze.
"What?"
Thomas slowly lowered the phone.
"Security found Roman Vale."
"Where?"
"East River."
Penelope's stomach tightened.
"Dead?"
Thomas nodded.
Larkin looked toward the financial records.
A dead rival.
A staged assassination.
Money moved under Thomas's identity.
And Graham Steves quietly sitting somewhere outside the organization.
Penelope understood the pattern.
Someone wasn't merely attacking Larkin.
Someone was manufacturing a war.
Her laptop chimed.
An email had arrived.
No sender.
No subject.
One attachment.
Penelope opened it.
A photograph filled the screen.
Her apartment.
Taken from across the street.
Beneath it were six words.
GO BACK TO BEING INVISIBLE, PENELOPE.
Larkin read them over her shoulder.
Something terrible settled across his face.
Penelope expected anger.
Instead, his voice became frighteningly calm.
"Thomas."
"Yeah?"
"Find whoever sent that."
"And then?"
Larkin's eyes never left the photograph.
"Then they learn why she was safer when nobody knew I cared."
Penelope turned.
"You care?"
Larkin froze.
May you like
Thomas slowly backed out of the room.
For once, Larkin Steves had no answer.
