Chapter 6

Zoe was completely paralyzed. It wasn't until Kerry laced their fingers together, giving her hand a firm, reassuring squeeze, that she managed to move, letting Kerry pull her toward the sofa.

Originally, Ray Singer had only cleared one seat for Kerry. But seeing that Clif didn't object—he just sat there, smoking in silence—the rest of the executives discreetly scrambled to make room for Zoe, too.

Just like that, Kerry and Zoe were sitting dead center among the city's heaviest hitters.

Kerry was seated thigh-to-thigh with Clifton Condon. Before Clif even opened his mouth, Kerry casually reached forward, poured herself a glass of liquor, and turned to him with a brilliant, soft smile.

"I didn't get the chance to properly thank you for what happened the other night, Mr. Condon," she murmured. "Thank you for stepping in to help me."

Her voice wasn't loud. It sounded intimate, almost private. But in that dead-quiet circle, every single man heard her loud and clear. The looks they threw Kerry suddenly became heavily layered with meaning.

Clif leaned back against the leather sofa, just as lazy and untouchable as he’d been in the dark club. He took a drag of his cigarette. "How exactly do you plan to properly thank me?"

"I know what you value most," Kerry said smoothly, her eyes gleaming. "There’s plenty of time. I'll repay you with actual actions."

She raised her glass, tapped it lightly against the air in his direction, and downed the liquor in one smooth shot.

The outsiders couldn't decipher the exact nature of their relationship, but listening to that heavily loaded exchange? A notoriously ruthless billionaire personally stepping into a fight for a stunning woman?

It was as subtle as a sledgehammer. His agenda was clear as day.

No one dared to gossip about Clifton Condon’s private life out loud, but seeing his attitude toward Kerry—and the fact that he was tolerating Zoe’s presence entirely for her sake—everyone assumed he was just humoring a beautiful woman he was trying to bed.

The executives, who had been desperately looking for an opening to suck up to Clif, suddenly found a glaringly obvious loophole. They didn't just need to elevate Kerry; they needed to elevate the friend sitting next to her, too.

Suddenly, multiple men were leaning over, actively trying to strike up a conversation with Zoe. The business cards they had viciously mocked minutes ago were now highly sought-after prizes.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kerry saw the balding man—the one who had told Zoe to hand over a room key—eagerly swapping cards with Zoe.

Kerry smiled warmly at her friend. "Be careful, Zoe," she said, her voice dripping with lethal sweetness. "Don't accidentally hand him a room key instead of your business card."

It sounded like a joke. But everyone in the circle knew exactly what she was doing. She was dragging his insult back into the light and wrapping it around his neck.

The man’s Friar Tuck hairline practically broke out in a cold sweat. He instantly shot a terrified look at Clif’s face. Clif’s expression was flat, completely unreadable.

Panicking, the man forced a laugh. "I was just making a harmless joke with Boss Price earlier! Please, don't take it to heart."

"Of course not," Kerry said without blinking. "A little banter keeps things lively. Don't you take it to heart, either."

The more beautiful a woman was, the more likely she was to be venomous. Especially when Kerry smiled like that—it was a knife hidden behind silk. The message was loud and clear: Don't cross me. Not only can you not afford to offend Clifton Condon, you can't afford to offend the people under his protection, either.

Clif clearly had no intention of playing 'man of the people' all night. He didn't sit for much longer before standing up. The entire circle of men scrambled to their feet like a royal court seeing off an emperor.

While the executives tripped over themselves offering groveling farewells and begging for future dinner dates, Kerry just sat there. She looked up at him and said one sentence.

"Take care. See you tomorrow."

See you tomorrow.

Who the hell could just declare they were seeing Clifton Condon tomorrow?

When Kerry spoke, she dropped bombs.

Clif didn't confirm or deny it, but to the calculating minds in the room, her status was absolutely cemented. The second Clif walked away, the executives descended on Zoe with sickeningly sweet smiles, practically begging to adopt her as a blood relative.

Kerry decided discretion was the better part of valor and made a tactical exit, leaving Zoe to handle the cleanup. There were plenty of men willing to throw money at Zoe's company if they thought it might earn them a sliver of Clif's favor. In this city, everyone knew a whisper on a pillow was worth a thousand boardroom pitches.

Half an hour later, Zoe pushed open the heavy oak doors of the women’s restroom, finally cornering Kerry, who had been hiding in there for twenty minutes.

The bathroom was empty. Zoe couldn't hold it in for another second.

"What the hell is going on with you and Clifton Condon?!" Zoe hissed, automatically lowering her voice in terror despite being alone. "No, seriously—when the fuck did you even meet him?"

Compared to Zoe’s hyperventilating panic, Kerry was perfectly calm. "Yesterday. He’s my new client."

Zoe’s eyes nearly bulged out of her skull. She stared at Kerry like she had grown a second head. "You are tutoring Clifton Condon?!"

"I'm tutoring his son," Kerry corrected.

Zoe looked genuinely horrified. "I leave the country for a few days, and something this catastrophic happens, and you don't even tell me?!"

"He was the ninth client Maggie shoved down my throat," Kerry said evenly. "Was I supposed to reject him? Who knows if the tenth one she sent would be a sterile serial killer? I didn't have a choice. And telling you wouldn't have changed anything—you were busy working yourself to death."

Zoe grabbed her arm, her face grim. "Do you have any idea who Clifton Condon is?"

"I heard his reputation is pretty ugly," Kerry said, fixing her hair in the mirror. "But it has nothing to do with me. He pays the money, I do the work. I’m a teacher, not a cop."

Zoe let out a breathless, desperate laugh. "Your understanding of 'pretty ugly' is dangerously naive."

"It has a nice ring to it," Kerry joked.

"I am not fucking with you, Kerry!" Zoe snapped, her fists clenching. "This is my fault. I’ve been too busy this month to properly educate you on the local lore. You don't know about the Six Views of the City."

Kerry raised a brow. "Don't try to scam an out-of-towner. The city has eight traditional views. The Pier, the Grand Park, the—"

Zoe rolled her eyes so hard they almost got stuck. "Girl, those are the tourist traps! I am telling you, as a local born and raised in this city's bloodline, there are only Six Views that matter now."

Seeing Zoe actually grinding her teeth in fear, Kerry humored her. "I'm listening."

Zoe lowered her voice to a lethal whisper, dropping the names like they were curses. "The Six Views refer to six specific men. The Three Gods, and The Three Evils. Your absolute dream man, Nathan Arcand? He is one of the Three Gods. And your brand-new client, Clifton Condon? What a sick coincidence. He is the absolute head of the Three Evils!"

She bit down hard on the words Evils and Head, desperately trying to force Kerry to realize the reality of the situation. She couldn't sacrifice her life for a paycheck.

Kerry blinked. Her eyes were wide, utterly innocent. "Nathan Arcand is really that famous here?"

Zoe practically collapsed. She grabbed the edge of the marble sink to keep from falling over. She had just solemnly explained how Clifton Condon was a lethal, localized mafia prince, and Kerry's only takeaway was about Nathan Arcand.

Kerry patted the back of Zoe's head, cooing like she was soothing a frantic dog. "Okay, okay, I believe you. I believe you, alright? Don't have an aneurysm. Did you bring your blood pressure meds?"

Zoe steadied her breathing, muttering something under her breath. Kerry had to lean in close to hear it.

"You shouldn't have stepped in to save me out there," Zoe whispered, her voice trembling. "You used his name to bluff them. You stole his power to get an advantage. There is no way in hell a man like that is going to let you get away with it. We're dead. We're so fucking dead."

Kerry opened her mouth to tell Zoe to relax—if the sky fell, Kerry was five-foot-eight; she’d catch it before it hit Zoe at five-foot-five.

But before she could speak, the restroom door creaked open. The time for whispering was over.

They washed their hands and walked out, Kerry in the lead, Zoe trailing behind.

Halfway down the plush, dimly lit corridor, Kerry suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Zoe, entirely distracted, nearly slammed right into Kerry's back.

Zoe was just about to complain when she looked up.

And her blood ran completely cold.