The Perfect Victim: Playing The Billionaire's Game

Harmon asked, leaning into the harsh,

g a small bottle of saline solution. "Tilt your head back. Y

e sclera. She blinked rapidly, watching her reflection transform. The sharp, calculating glint in her hazel e

the acoustics are good. Three gossip bloggers are at the bar, phones out. They're

rset of her dress-a dress she couldn't really afford anymor

ing through her sternum. The air smelled of expensive cologne, sweat, and spilled vodka. Ashton moved throu

edge of the VIP section. He was

ed it. One

the waiter

shattering glass cut through t

e VIP booth, Carter

tightening line that used to make Ashton's stomach turn over. He saw her. His lip curled, not in concern, but in a

ible over the lull in the music. "

e payments?" she shouted, her voice cracking perfectly. "The money for my b

e, untouchable annuity. But Carter had frozen her personal access to the main tru

ring with his anger. "What ar

r face, likely to

rush her skin. The moment they made c

her. A tower of champagne bottles t

ass shards against her bare legs. She scrambled bac

ing a trembling finger at him. "I gave up

ut. The DJ had

Every eye was on Carter. Phones were raised, came

ring in the glass. His face drained of color as he reali

She curled into a bal

en Ashton and Carter. "Security!" she shrieked. "He's

ail. But in the court of public opinio

and impatient, grabb

d, struggling. "Do you know who I am?

he crowd murmured, disgusted. The blog

her face, offering the cameras only a profile of pure, trembling devastation

r of the Meatpacking District. An

eat. The door slammed sh

eyes. The trembling stopped instantly. Her posture straightene

itizer,"

e. "That was... Oscar-worthy. Twitter is already mel

's proximity. She looked at the phone Sloan held up. The video of C

ks," Ashton said, her voice flat. "He won't have

," Sloan said, gri

it and brought up a new image. A man with steel-grey

re Gr

fading. "Carter is a bully. Isadore is... he's a

dog. He bites when he's angry. Isadore is a machi

. "Tomorrow afternoon. He

s estate," Sloan argued. "They have

led of dust and old paper. "I'm not going as a socialite. I'm going as a scholar.

to bribe him

f his collection," Ashton said. "Charity st

ard her cramped apartment in Queens. The city

she told