"If you tilt your head any higher, the security guards will know you do not belong in this box," Rhys whispered, his breath warm against my neck.
"I belong anywhere I choose to stand," I replied, adjusting the heavy silk mask covering the upper half of my face. "And right now, I need to reach that private office before the second act ends."
Below us, the grand orchestra of the Vienna Opera House reached a deafening surge, but my focus remained locked on the secluded balcony three tiers down. We had slipped past the outer perimeter in custom evening attire, hidden behind high-society disguises that felt more like armor than silk. I was no longer a fugitive named on an INTERPOL notice; I was a wealthy benefactor returning to collect what was mine.
"The terminal inside that private box bel
