“The Tokyo deal,” she said mildly, “was funded by Orion Acquisitions, which is also mine. You negotiated with counsel retained by me, analysts paid by me, and translators hired by me. One of the reasons your meeting summaries were always so vague, Preston, is that you were too busy performing sophistication to notice the interpreters never once spoke Japanese.”
Laughter detonated across the room.
This time it was not uncertain. It was delighted.
Prestige rooms love morality only occasionally. They love exposure almost every time.
Vivien clicked again.
Hotel receipts from the St. Regis. Tuesdays. Itemized jewelry purchases coded as hardware. A series of travel expenses labeled as business that mapped suspiciously onto Tiffany’s social life. Then a photo appeared on the screen: Preston and Tiffany at Disney, smiling in matching Mickey ears.
The ballroom erupted.
Some people laughed openly. Some covered their mouths. Someone at the back actually applauded.
Tiffany went white beneath her makeup.
Marcus Henderson stepped forward and took the microphone with professional relish.