My boss invited me to the most dangerous gala in New York because he wanted me to embarrass myself. He expected his painfully ordinary secretary to arrive in cheap shoes, freeze in front of powerful criminals, and become the joke of the night. What he didn’t know was that I had spent three years making myself invisible on purpose.

The underground casino was hidden beneath a legitimate art gallery in Brooklyn, a sprawling, opulent cavern of velvet ropes, roulette tables, and dangerous money.

I walked past the heavily armed bouncers at the entrance, wearing a backless emerald-green gown that glittered under the dim chandeliers. A diamond necklace, borrowed from Larkin’s personal vault, rested heavy against my collarbone. I looked like a billionaire heiress with money to burn and a thirst for danger.

I caught the eye of the floor boss immediately.

He was a slick, dangerous man named Petrov, a lieutenant for the Chicago syndicate. He watched me as I dropped fifty thousand dollars in cash at the high-stakes baccarat table, playing with reckless, bored arrogance.

“You play boldly, Ms. Frost,” Petrov murmured, stepping up behind my chair after I won my third consecutive hand.

“I play to win, Mr. Petrov,” I smiled, picking up my martini glass without looking at him. “Though the stakes down here are a bit... pedestrian for my taste.”

Petrov’s ego bristled exactly as I hoped it would. “Perhaps you would prefer our private VIP room. The buy-in is significantly higher, but the company is much more exclusive.”

“Lead the way,” I purred.

He escorted me through a heavily guarded steel door into a lavish, soundproofed back room. There were no card tables here. Just expensive couches, a fully stocked bar, and a massive, biometric wall safe hidden behind a painting.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Petrov said, pouring a glass of champagne. “The other guests will arrive shortly.”

“I think I prefer private company,” I said, closing the distance between us.

I smiled, letting my hand trail down his lapel. The moment he lowered his guard, leaning in with a smug smirk, I struck.

I drove my knee viciously upward into his groin. As he doubled over with a breathless gasp, I brought the heavy crystal base of the martini glass down onto the back of his skull.

Petrov collapsed to the carpet, unconscious.

I didn't waste a second. I stepped over him, pulled a specialized hacking decryption drive from my clutch purse, and moved to the biometric safe. I plugged the drive into the keypad, bypassing the security protocols with the exact codes Larkin’s tech team had provided.

The heavy steel door clicked open.

I grabbed the thick, leather-bound master ledger and shoved it into my bag.