The Imperial Palace Hotel was a fortress of glass and steel.
Silas led Elara through the lobby, his hand firmly on the small of her back. They were "The Sterlings"—the world's most dangerous arms dealers.
"Smile, darling," Silas whispered, nodding to a group of Russian oligarchs. "You're supposed to be the happiest woman in the room because you have me."
"And you're supposed to be the most envied man because you have the Viper," she retorted, flashing a blinding, fake smile.
They entered the ballroom. It was a sea of masks, silk, and hidden weapons. At the far end sat Hideo Tanaka—a man who looked more like a monk than a mass murderer.
"Mr. and Mrs. Sterling," Tanaka said, his voice a soft rasp. "I heard you had a... difficult journey from Monte Carlo."
"A few bumps in the road," Silas said, pulling Elara closer. "But my wife enjoys the thrill."
"Does she?" Tanaka leaned forward, his eyes like black beads. "I've heard rumors, Arthur. Rumors that the real Sterlings were seen in London yesterday. Which would make you... imposters."
The room went silent. Six guards shifted their weight, their hands moving toward their jackets.
Elara didn't blink. She reached out and grabbed Silas's tie, pulling him into a searing, deep kiss right in front of Tanaka. It was bold, desperate, and tasted of defiance.
When she pulled away, she looked Tanaka dead in the eye.
"Arthur and I had a fight in London," she lied perfectly. "He bought me these diamonds to apologize. Would you like to see the receipt, or should we get to the bidding?"
Tanaka laughed, a dry, rattling sound. "The lady has spirit. Very well. Let the auction begin."
As they walked toward their table, Elara felt a cold chill. A man in a waiter's uniform was watching them. Not the way a guard watches a guest.
The man had a tattoo on his wrist—a serpent eating its own tail.
"Silas," she whispered. "Ouroboros is already inside."