Christina’s POV
Inspector Silva walked up to and reached for the front of my blouse.
I snatched the button out of his hand. "I can do it myself."
"The device is sensitive," he said. "Needs careful handling."
"I can manage pinning a button to a blouse, thanks."
This man had exactly one setting: work. Honestly, even Akira found him boring, and she usually appreciated focused hunters.
"The mini camcorder captures everything within twenty ters of where you’re looking," he said, stepping back. "Make sure the lens faces outwards at the right angle."
I looked down and adjusted the tiny white device. It blended perfectly with the other buttons on my blouse.
Silva checked sothing on his laptop, then put on headphones. "The view’s good. Say sothing."
"Sothing."
"Loud and clear." He removed the headphones.
I resisted the urge to keep looking down at the button. "What if he doesn’t say anything useful tonight?"
"Then we try again tomorrow."
Noticing the doubt on my face, he added, "Don’t worry. He’s starting to break. It won’t be long. He likes you. He’ll talk."
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes and showing him the engagent ring on my finger. I knew what Silva ant, but still. Couldn’t he find a better way to phrase it?
"We need nas," he said. "Who helped him move the funds, who fudged the books. He—"
"I know, I know." I cut him off. "He’s not smart enough to pull this off alone. You’ve told . Over and over."
After our first eting at the café, once he was sure I was willing to help, Silva had briefed thoroughly on Fabrizio. Possibly too much.
Whatever talent Fabrizio had in design didn’t carry over to running a business.
As the founder of Valmont & Cie, he used to do everything himself. At one point, he was CEO, CFO, COO, and every other executive role, as if he were running a corner shop, not a rapidly growing company.
As things took off, he overstocked, underpriced, overhired, and overpaid. When the bills started piling up, he turned to investors. That bought him ti, but the mismanagent continued, and soon he needed to make the numbers look better before investors started asking questions.
From there, it wasn’t a huge leap to falsifying reports, forging docunts, and committing loan fraud.
Even Silva admitted the cris ca more from stupidity than greed.
"But a cri’s still a cri," he insisted. "Just because he didn’t an to hurt anyone doesn’t an his investors and suppliers aren’t getting screwed."
"Worried I’ll go soft on him?" I scoffed. "Don’t. He owes five million."
Silva nodded. "Shall we go over the script again?"
"If you must." I sighed and sat down for another practice run.
"This is ridiculous," Akira grumbled inside . "We should be with our mate right now, not playing detective."
"Hudson is handling important pack business," I reminded her. "Besides, don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this little adventure."
"If anything goes wrong, give the signal. Our team will move in right away," Silva said.
I nodded. I was actually a little excited. Who hadn’t dread of being an undercover cop after watching cri shows?
"Wait. He’s not dangerous, is he?"
"No. No guns. No history of violence as far as we can tell."
"Not even a bar fight?"
"Not even."
"All right." That matched my impression of Fabrizio. Charming. Polite. More brainy than strong. No aggression whatsoever.
An hour later, I stepped out of the hotel and caught a taxi to Le urice. From the location and the nu prices, you’d never guess the man was technically bankrupt.
He greeted cheerfully. It was getting harder to ignore the dark circles under his eyes.
I ordered foie gras, sea bass with lemon confit, and a chocolate soufflé, along with a bottle of Château Margaux. I matched him drink for drink.
There’s a saying that people tell the truth when they’re drunk. I was hoping that was true for Fabrizio.
I’d taken a couple of RU-21 pills before leaving. Hopefully they’d help stay sober enough to get what Silva needed. My wolf tabolism would handle the rest.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the stress. Or maybe he genuinely saw as a friend. Whatever the reason, Fabrizio finally cracked.
"It’s not as easy as it looks," he said, slurring his sixth glass of wine. "Everyone said the gold price would keep going up. Buying tons of it made sense. I needed it as raw material anyway, right? How was I supposed to know the price would crash a month later?"
I murmured sympathetically.
I knew exactly what crash he ant. Two years ago, when I was still at Nyx Collective, Savannah Lane had lost so much hair over it she’d started wearing a wig to work.
"I’m facing the sa issues with my studio," I said. "I thought things were going well. Orders were coming in. Then I looked at how fast we were spending money. I couldn’t believe how quickly the money was disappearing."
"Exactly." Fabrizio bobbed his head. "After I saw my first year’s books, I put up a job ad for a CFO the next day."
I frowned. "Finance is a nightmare. Balancing the books is worse. I’ve got investors coming in a couple of months, and I’m scared of what they’ll say when they see my numbers."
"You have investors?"
I nodded. "Just a few. People I know who helped when I started out." That was a lie. Hudson was my only investor, along with The Sabreridge pack’s business ventures. "My cash flow is going to give them a heart attack."
"Maybe I can help," Fabrizio offered.
"How?" I eyed him. "Don’t tell you’re a secret accountant."
"If I were, I wouldn’t have nearly stressed myself to death over Valmont’s numbers." He grimaced. "No, but I know soone who is."
"Thanks, but I’ve already got an accountant."
"This one’s different."
"Different how?"
"He knows how to clean up the books. Make them look better."
"You an, he fudges them?"
Fabrizio shook his head. "Nothing that obvious. Technically, it’s not illegal. If anyone found out, there might be questions. But it’s not a cri."
"Huh." My pulse quickened. This was the guy Silva needed. Akira stirred inside , sensing the hunt was getting good. "What’s his na? Can you send his contact info?"
"I don’t save his number. He doesn’t like that."
"A business card then?"
"He doesn’t give those out."
"Does he at least have a website? An office?"
"No website. But wait, let think. I know his number starts with a 6. His office is on..."
I leaned forward, concentrating.
Soone called my na. I ignored it.
Then soone tapped my shoulder.
I was so annoyed, I nearly snapped. Akira snarled.
Assuming Silva had jumped the gun, I whirled around.
It wasn’t Silva.
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