Fool Me Forever (The Confidence Game 2)

He nodded. “Sonny Ozols is a con and a corrupt politician. Ossovia deserves better, and there are forces working hard in the country to have him thrown out of power. The way he used your money is an insult to D4D, and I take it personally. And because Sonny is in New York and intending to solicit more money his countrymen will only see a fraction of, he’s now fair game. I don’t want you involved with him, because I’m planning to take him down.”

“Take him down.” If she didn’t know who Halsey really was, she’d think his sincerity endearing. “Who are you, the Terminator?” He’d stolen the invitation because he wanted to take away her choices, to control her actions. She no longer needed to fortify herself against him—he’d gone and ensured she could remain fixated on her dislike.

“I screwed up with you, and I didn’t intend to make your life worse. If I was better at people, I would’ve handled things differently.”

“Better at people?” Oh, this was some devious heart strings tug of a manipulation.

“I’m more comfortable with numbers on paper and a structure to manage.” He shook his head and looked adorably rueful. “And you don’t really care about any of this.”

She cared he was an inexpert enough con not to know about save-the-date processes. He probably had an assistant handle his social engagements. Dad was an extrovert. Loud, full of laughter, assured, masterful. A salesman through and through, always out wining and dining clients. Someone you trusted to have your best interests at heart. “Don’t you need to deal with people to get them to lose money with you?”

“Yes, but that’s business, and there are dollar signs and charts to do the convincing. I don’t have to make anyone like me, just believe I can make them richer. If I’m a little nerdy, all the better. They never think I’m offering refreshments with an ulterior motive.”

She’d come to Stumptown thinking Halsey and her father were men with similar personalities. She wasn’t sure that was the case now, but that didn’t mean she trusted his information.

“Let me get this straight before we go our separate ways forever. My books are fine. You think you can demonstrate our donation to the Heroes League has been used fraudulently, and you stole my invitation to the gala because you don’t want me involved with a charity you intend to take down like a nerdy Schwarzenegger wielding a lethal spreadsheet.”

“Yes,” he said, brows pulled together. “Except it will take more than a spreadsheet.”

The ice in his water was melted, and his coffee cup was empty. If he wasn’t pretty, she might’ve been more efficient in dealing with him. She stood.

“Thank you for…” She glanced up at the pattern in Stumptown’s pressed tin ceiling looking for inspiration. It was tempting to hit back with something sarcastic—oh hell, why hold back. “…your unsolicited advice. The very next time I need a grifter to give me guidance, I’ll call. And in case there’s any shadow of doubt about what I mean, I am never calling.”

She left

Halsey with his back to the wall and his whole game exposed. She didn’t need to know why he thought the United Heroes League was crooked; she had her own sources, and they were far more trustworthy.

Next stop the dry cleaners, because she had a formal gown to collect that had been altered and cleaned and a family name to begin restoring.

Chapter Seven

Halsey arrived at the gala not by the red carpet at the front door, but by the parking garage. The temptation to steal a certain 1970 forest green Mercedes Benz that Cookie Jar was driving around the city and parking wherever he wanted with diplomatic immunity was undeniable. It would be a cakewalk. He could disable any alarms, hotwire it, and hightail it out of here without even having to pay for parking because Cookie Jar had left the ticket on the dash.

The thing about people who thought they were the smartest in the room was that it was a simple matter to lead them into making a mistake. Stealing the Merc would’ve felt glorious, selling it to give D4D a refund would’ve been inspired, but it wasn’t enough. Halsey wanted to steal Sonny’s country out from under him and give it to people who could do a better job of leading it. He wasn’t exactly sure how yet, and it would have to be done before Cookie Jar left the city or he’d slip through Halsey’s fingers, but that was the endgame, and tonight was reconnaissance.

He accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter for something to do with his hands and stood with his back to a pillar in the corner of the room so no one could surprise him from behind. He didn’t mind being alone, especially if he didn’t have to engage in boring, incidental chit chat, which made it easier to watch what was going down.

And there was a lot to watch.

Sonny Ozols was the life of the party. He was so secure in his position, after his successful address at the UN, he’d allowed members of the Ossovia opposition into the room. They were huddled at one end of the ballroom looking miserable. Scattered across the room were other members of the Ozols government. Halsey intended to seek out the ones who looked rebellious. He’d watch the politics of the room, engineer discussions with men and women who had reason to dislike and distrust Cookie Jar, and build support for whatever plan he was able to convince his family to put in place.

The person he was most interested in talking to was finance minister, Baiba Jansons. He’d done his research. Her name was pronounced By-ba, and she loathed the leader of her party, acting to curtail his excesses as often as possible without losing her position of power.

It’s not like Sherwoods had ever taken down a whole government before. Their vigilante work was usually done on a much smaller scale. A Soho physic who was a charlatan. A businessman who ripped off his employees. A landlord who refused to rent to minorities. Those vigilante activities came second to their focus on income redistribution.

He’d have to flex his influencing skills without charts to convince his family they should support this. Given it was originally Cal’s money that was misused and Fin’s charity that’d been had, he didn’t think it would take much effort to get everyone on side.

It would take a lot more effort to explain to Lenny Bradshaw what he was doing here. Especially as the sight of her glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth and woke up other parts of his anatomy that had been hibernating too long.

Holy hell. She looked amazing. A floor-length gown attached to her body by magic with no straps or strings and managed to create the effect she was naked while being swathed in acres of filmy fabric. That was a dress he could respect, and he admired the woman wearing it, too. She didn’t take any crap. She’d made that point when she dispatched her asshole brother efficiently. Now that she’d spotted him, her shoulders tensed. Halsey would need to hide behind the pillar if he wanted to avoid a confrontation.

And he always wanted to avoid those.

It would be undignified if he scrambled out of Lenny’s oncoming path. A good way to call unnecessary attention to himself.

He got rid of the champagne on the tray of a passing waiter and readied for impact. She sailed right up to him, the full skirt of her dress traveling on when her body stopped so that it belled against his legs, making them both look down.

He lifted his gaze in time to see her jam her hands on her hips. “And here, I thought the Sherwoods were well enough connected to get their own invitations to galas. But no, you had to steal yours.”