Shark (Wall Street Beasts 1)

“Încântat de cunostiinta,” she said, bowing her head. “Nice to meet you.” She also provided the translation. Because Christo was stupid and an asshole.

“Isn’t she beautiful,” Christo said, speaking to Alex as if she wasn’t even there.

“She is,” Alex smiled.

“Far too beautiful to be stuck on your arm.” Christo tried his version of being charming. “Can I interest the lady in a drink and much better conversation?”

It was all Sophie could do not to empty the contents of the nearest tray of shrimp over his smug head. She refrained, not only because it would cause a scene and Alex would beat her most severely for it, but because she wanted Christo to suspect nothing.

“I am thirsty,” she admitted.

“Allow me to escort you to the bar. Alex has business to attend to, which I am sure you will find exceptionally tedious. He’s lost a terrorist, you know.”

She turned back and looked at Alex as if expressing reproach. “Lost a terrorist?”

“A fiscal one, certainly. A spy, responsible for the loss of billions of dollars.”

She made a pearl clutching motion, surprised at how natural it felt.

“How appalling.”

“Indeed. But such a story need not irritate the ears of such a beautiful creature. With you, one should speak only of great art.”

God, Christo was a dick. There was no chance he would have been so popular with women if he wasn’t rich and handsome. But he was rich and handsome — and suddenly he noticed her. That felt good. And strange. And powerful.

She looked back and saw Alex’s eyes narrow at the pair of them. This was not what they had talked about, but the situation was fluid, and she had studied a very long time for her revenge — even if Alex insisted that this journey was not about revenge at all.

Christo was nattering about something or other he thought would interest her. She smiled and nodded and let him think he was getting somewhere with her. Christo’s arrogance would be his undoing. As soon as she had him alone, she was going to take her revenge.

Alex wanted her to fit in, be quiet, hide in plain sight and build the privileged life she had been manifested into. Maybe that would have been easier, but having had her face entirely reconstructed had changed her outlook on things that were easy, and things that were right.

Her recovery had not been quick, and it had not been without pain. But there had been one thing that got her through: the promise of vengeance. She was going to make Christo Monteverdi wish he had never been born.

It would have been easy to walk around being rich and successful while simultaneously being not rich or successful. Alex’s plan involved being fake forever. Her plan involved revenge. There was nothing more real than revenge.

"Come with me," Christo said. "I have a private room for conversation. We can get to know one another so much better here.”

He really thought she was going to walk into a bedroom and fuck him. That was the world Christo lived in, apparently, where obscure heiresses dropped their panties for him as soon as he smiled at them.

Alex was not far behind, she was sure. She didn’t have much time. She had to do this quickly, before he realized they hadn't simply sneaked away to a fresh plate of canapés. The crowd helped hide their retreat, closing in around behind them with every step they took.

The moment they were away from the crowd and suitably sequestered, Sophie pulled a small, snub-nosed pistol out of her handbag. The one Alex had given her “just in case”. Well, just in case had just happened, as far as she was concerned. She’d wondered if she would have the nerve to do this. If maybe she’d chicken out at the last minute and start seeing Christo as a person or something. Turned out, that was absolutely not the case.

She didn't even close her eyes. She kept them wide open, and locked on Christo as her finger settled over the trigger…

“Put the gun down.”

An unfamiliar voice interrupted before she could squeeze the trigger, though not much before.

“Well, you two didn't waste any time, did you? Already abandoning Alex, Sophie? Or did you have something else planned?”

She swung around to see a stranger standing behind them. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, and he had the facial features of a model. Once upon a time, that would have impressed Sophie. Now she knew beauty was only a surgeon away.

“Indigo!” Christo exclaimed.

“Sit down, Christo. Sit down, Ms. Pierce.”

“Pierce?” Christo was predictably confused. “This is…”

Sophie sat down. She had the distinct feeling that doing what the man with the gun said was in her extreme best interest. He had the kind of cold, reptilian gaze which made her certain that squeezing the trigger would be no hardship to him whatsoever.