Morning in the city was cold steel and golden light. Marco stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his Manhattan penthouse, coffee in hand, watching the skyline with sharp, calculating eyes. Behind him, Adriana shuffled out of the bedroom in a silk robe, her hair tousled from sleep and tension.
“Did you sleep?” she asked, voice still husky.
He didn’t turn around. “Not really. Too much to think about.”
She moved beside him, sipping from her own cup. “Like how we’re sitting on a bombshell that could take down Eleanor and Corelli in one blow?”
He finally glanced at her. “Exactly that.”
They hadn’t yet decided when—or how—to use the evidence. Timing was everything. Too soon, and they’d tip their hand. Too late, and someone might disappear or retaliate.
Or both.
Adriana leaned against t
