“She poured poison into the champagne glass, but the waitress whispered five words that changed everything.

The National Gallery of Art was transformed into a glittering palace of black silk, white orchids, and ruthless power.

Outside, a line of black Maybachs and Rolls-Royces stretched down Constitution Avenue. Flashes from paparazzi cameras illuminated the marble steps as high society arrived in diamonds and velvet.

Inside the green room behind the gallery’s east wing, Maya stood in front of a full-length mirror.

She barely recognized the woman staring back at her.

She wore a backless emerald-green satin gown that hugged every curve of her body, pooling elegantly at her heels. Her dark hair was swept up into an intricate, classic French twist, secured with pearl-tipped pins. Around her throat hung a diamond choker that housed a micro-transceiver and a pinhole camera. Her makeup was striking—smoky eyes, contoured cheekbones, and lips painted a bold, dangerous crimson.

Julian stood behind her, adjusting the clasp of a small evening purse that contained a high-frequency RF cloner disguised as a vintage gold compact.

His reflection met hers in the glass. He wore a midnight-blue tuxedo, looking impossibly handsome, aristocratic, and lethal.

"Your heart rate is elevated," Julian whispered, his hands lingering on her bare shoulders. His touch was warm, sending a sudden, intoxicating jolt of electricity through Maya’s veins.

"I'm terrified," Maya admitted honestly, watching his gray eyes in the mirror.

"Good," Julian said softly, his thumbs lightly grazing her collarbone. "Fear keeps your senses sharp. Panic gets you killed. Remember your cover: you are Evelyn Drake, the niece of Sir Arthur Drake, the British logistics magnate. Marcus will recognize the family name. He will want to charm you."

"And when I get close?"

"The gold compact has an effective cloning range of four inches," Julian said, leaning down until his lips were inches from her ear. "You need to brush against his left jacket pocket for three full seconds. The device will chirp twice through your ear-comm. The moment you hear the tone, walk toward the sculpture garden. Do not run. Do not look back."

Maya turned around to face him. She was inches from his chest. The faint scent of cedarwood, rain, and cold steel clung to him.

"And where will you be?" she asked, her voice dropping.

Julian looked down at her lips, a sudden, fierce protectiveness flaring in his eyes.

"I will be watching every breath you take, Maya," he said, his voice thick with unvoiced emotion. "If any man touches you, if Marcus so much as looks at you wrong, the lights go out, and I tear that building apart to get you out."

Maya smiled faintly, feeling an unexpected swell of courage. "Don't ruin my dress."

Julian’s lips curved into a genuine, breathtaking smile—the first she had ever seen on his face.