The transition from the gritty, oil-stained concrete of the parking garage to the interior of the armored limousine was jarring. Riana sat pressed against the soft, hand-stitched leather, her eyes fixed on Albert. He was currently on a satellite phone, his voice cold and clipped as he issued orders that sounded like military maneuvers.
"I want Antonio’s offshore accounts flagged by midnight. And tell the Gala organizers that the guest list has been updated. No one enters without a biometric scan. My wife is the priority."
He hung up and looked at Riana. The silence between them was thick, vibrating with the unanswered questions that had been piling up since she first saw him in the rain.
"Riana," he started, reaching for her hand.
"Don't," she whispered, pulling back. "Not until you te
