Ignored at the Billionaire’s Party, She Walked Away—Not Knowing the Mafia Boss Was the Host

The investigation into the sabotage at the South Boston port moved with the terrifying speed of a syndicate war.

By midnight, Marco had tracked the industrial cutting torch used on the gantry cable to a rogue contractor who had been paid fifty thousand dollars in untraceable cryptocurrency.

And the man who had funded the cryptocurrency wallet was someone Penelope knew all too well:

Marcus Vanguard—the primary rival real estate developer in New England, and the very man Richard Harrison had tried to impress on the night of the gala.

Inside the command center of the Castellano estate, high-definition monitors displayed the financial trail linking Vanguard Enterprises to three illegal union payoffs across the tri-state area.

Penelope sat at the long glass table, her dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, a high-end diagnostic laptop open in front of her. Beside her sat Julian, his jacket removed, his dark shirt sleeves rolled up, one arm anchored firmly over the back of her chair, his broad body emanating a protective heat.

“Vanguard doesn't just want the port contract,” Penelope pointed out, tapping a key to bring up Vanguard’s corporate balance sheet. “His firm is over-leveraged by two hundred million dollars on the Midtown commercial towers. If Julian’s maritime terminal opens on schedule, Vanguard’s shipping clients will default on their leases. He’s facing complete bankruptcy.”

Marco leaned over the table, impressed. “So he thought if he killed our chief architect and created a major OSHA investigation, the port project would be frozen for years.”

“He thought wrong,” Julian whispered, his voice dangerously smooth.

He turned his head toward Penelope, his hand moving to gently cup the nape of her neck, his thumb smoothing over her soft skin. “Are you ready to finish this, my love?”

Penelope looked at the financial records, then into Julian’s dark, commanding eyes.

“Vanguard is hosting a private auction at the Boston Fine Arts Gala tomorrow night,” Penelope said, a sharp, brilliant smile touching her lips. “He’s trying to sell off his family’s historical estate shares to raise fast capital to cover his debt.”

“A room full of wealthy investors,” Julian noted, catching her train of thought immediately.