I stood by the mahogany railing of the mezzanine, watching the swarm below. To anyone else, it was a party.
To me, it was a map. I could see the fractures in the alliances, the desperate lean of a bankrupt senator toward a venture capitalist, the subtle avoidance of a disgraced judge.
I liked the view from above. It kept the filth of the negotiation off my shoes.
"You look like you're deciding which of them to execute first, Sterling."
The voice was a velvet blade. I didn't need to turn around to know it was Genevieve. Her scent hit me first—jasmine and something metallic, like a storm breaking over hot pavement. It was a fragrance designed to disrupt, and it worked.
I turned slowly. She wore a dress of midnight blue silk that clung to her curves like a second skin, the neckline plun
