Page 3 of Noel
Let’s just say I don’t really like bullies who threaten women.
Inside the file I see a few photos, a background check, and copies of the threats.
My jaw clenches when I read them.This fucking prick.
Then I glance back at the photos.
Holly Winters is low key hot.
I’m surprised.An annoyed.Especially when a certain part of me takes notice.
Early thirties.Curvy as fuck.Bright eyes the color of tinsel.
The photo is candid, something someone shot on the fly.She’s smiling in it like she believes in happily-ever-afters.
Great.
“I assume the gala is being held at the Stargazer?”I ask, not bothering to look up as I flip through the briefing file.
It’s a rhetorical question.
Everyone knows the Volkov holiday gala isalwaysat the Stargazer.
That hotel is practically a shrine to money, excess, and tastefully veiled corruption—crystal chandeliers, hand-carved paneling, imported Italian marble that costs more per square foot than most people make in a month.
It’s also a Volkov holding.Meaning, anyone who steps foot in that building is already being watched six different ways.
“Of course it is,” Connor mutters from across the room, setting his coffee down and scrubbing a hand over his face.“You think my father-in-law wouldeverlet me plan an event anywhere else?That man thinks the Plaza is a dive bar.”
I snort.
That tracks.
The Stargazer is old-world elegance with the kind of privacy only the ultra-wealthy can afford.Celebs, politicians, billionaires with reputations to protect—it's where they go to be seenwithoutbeing seen.
The Volkov holiday gala is the social event of the season for that crowd.Black tie, silent auction, six-figure wine pairings, and photo ops so carefully staged they make the Met Gala look like amateur hour.
“You want full coverage for the event, too?”I ask, finally glancing up.
Connor nods.“We already have it.Full perimeter.Inside and out.We’ll have the hotel’s security team as backup, but I want Sigma eyes on every entry point and hallway.”
“Us and the Stargazer’s own crew?”I raise a brow.“Isn’t that overkill?”
“We do cross-training with their staff every quarter,” he reminds me.“They’re competent.But this year the guest list is more volatile than usual.”
“Volatile how?”
Connor tosses me a sealed envelope.
“Lots of celebrities in attendance.In particular, El Tigre and his buddy, Nathan Thorn.We know that rockers’ fans are rabid about him.Intel says there might be a few uninvited parties interested in making a scene.Protestors.Press moles.Possibly worse.But that’s not why I called you in.”
“Where exactly is the gala being held?”I ask.
“Top floor ballroom.Three days from now.Saturday night, actually.The governor’s on the guest list, along with half of Wall Street.My wife,my family, will be there too, so you better make sure nothing goes wrong.”
“Wonderful,” I deadpan, snapping the folder shut.“A stalker and a Christmas party.My two favorite things.”
Connor grins.“Try not to ruin Christmas for her or anyone else, Kane.”
