Chapter 2 - The Accountant’s Blade
The main dining table was a court of wolves.
Seated around the thirty-foot mahogany table were the heads of Five Families, two state senators, and Julian Moretti—a rival mob boss who had been quietly edging into Vale's dock supply lines for six months.
Grant sat two chairs down, looking visibly unnerved, while Dominic sat at the head of the table with Evelyn beside him.
"So, Dominic," Julian Moretti drawled, swirling his red wine. "I see you brought a date tonight. I didn't know Vale Strategic Holdings permitted executive assistants at the Winter Table."
A few low snickers rippled through the room.
Evelyn didn't blink. She took a tiny sip of her sparkling water, set the glass down with absolute precision, and looked across the table at Moretti.
"Mr. Moretti," Evelyn said calmly. "It's a pleasure to finally put a face to the man whose fourth-quarter fuel shipping manifests contain a three-hundred-thousand-dollar rounding error."
The table went dead silent.
Moretti froze, his smile stiffening. "What did you say?"
"I said your fuel numbers don't balance," Evelyn replied smoothly, placing her forearms on the table. "You've been reporting a twelve percent loss due to 'spillages' at Pier 42. But Pier 42 only handles dry container freight. So either your accountants are incompetent, or you're skimming off your own captains to cover your gambling debts at the casino in Atlantic City."
Moretti’s face flushed a deep, violent purple. He slammed his palm onto the table. "Who the hell do you think you are?!"
"I am the woman who approves your quarterly clearance reports," Evelyn said, her voice dropping into a terrifyingly quiet register. "And if I don't sign off by Monday at five, your shipping licenses are frozen."
Dominic leaned back in his chair, a slow, dark sense of awe blooming in his chest.
She wasn't just a secretary. She was an absolute genius who held the financial throat of every criminal at this table.
"Careful, Julian," Dominic said, his dark eyes glittering with dangerous amusement. "My guest has very high standards for bookkeeping."
Moretti glared at Evelyn, his chest heaving, but he slowly sat back down, completely silenced by a woman in an emerald dress.
Grant leaned over to Dominic, whispering through gritted teeth, "Dominic, she's out of line! She's ruining the atmosphere!"
Dominic didn't even look at his cousin. "If you say another word, Grant, you're walking back to Manhattan."
May you like
He looked back at Evelyn. She caught his eye, gave him a subtle, wicked little smirk, and took another sip of her water.
Dominic realized right then that his little office mouse had never been a mouse at all. She was the one running the maze.
