Chapter 20
Soren offered a rare, dark smile, immensely proud of the sharp, analytical mind his wife possessed. "It is the most expensive lie," Soren agreed softly. "Markov controls the Bratva remnants on the East Coast. He is entirely cut off from our maritime ports. I suspect he intends to use your legitimate charity foundation as a laundering front to move unregistered assets."
Elodie’s jaw tightened. The thought of a foreign syndicate attempting to pollute the foundation she had built to help vulnerable families ignited a fierce, protective anger within her. She stood up, smoothing the fabric of her elegant day dress. "Are we going to cancel his invitation, Soren?" she asked.
"Does a predator cancel a hunt when the prey willingly walks into the trap?" Soren inquired, stepping around the desk to pull her securely against his chest. He kissed her forehead, his deeply masculine presence a fortress of absolute safety. "Let him attend the gala. We will welcome him into the light, and then we will show him exactly what lives in the shadows."
The evening of the charity gala transformed the Blackwell estate into a blinding display of orchestrated opulence. Cascading crystal chandeliers cast a soft, golden warmth across the grand ballroom, completely devoid of any muddy yellow tint. The room hummed with the sophisticated chatter of the city's political and corporate elite.
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Elodie stood near the base of the sweeping marble staircase, looking breathtakingly beautiful in a sculpted sapphire evening gown. Heavy diamond earrings flashed against her jawline as she greeted the arriving guests with aristocratic grace.
Soren stood a few paces away, a monument of lethal, masculine power in a flawless black tuxedo. His cold, unblinking eyes scanned the room, calculating every angle and blind spot, ready to dismantle anyone who dared to threaten his queen.
