Page 19 of Wild Card
“Relax,” I say, though my pulse is anything but. “It’s not about you. It’s about Talia Brandt.”
Her brow furrows. “What about her?”
I glance toward the closed door, then back at her. “I think she’s having an affair. With Vincent.”
Aria blinks. “What?”
“Think about it,” I say. “Talia comes to the Jade Petal once a week — always on Thursday nights, always alone. She ordersbottle service, racks up a bill north of five grand, and every single time, it’scomped.Not discounted, not reduced — completely written off.”
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “And you know this how?”
“Because I review the weekly comp logs,” I tell her. “Anything over a thousand gets flagged to my department for approval. And every time I see her name, it’s marked as ‘executive authorization.’ That means Vincent.”
Aria folds her arms, processing. “She’s the wife of your biggest competitor. Why would he risk that?”
“That’s what I’ve been asking myself.” I tap my finger against the table. “She could easily go to the Citadel — her husband’s property — and spend twice as much there without raising eyebrows. But she doesn’t. She comes here. Over and over again.”
“And you think it’s because of Vincent.”
I nod. “She’s got a reason for choosing this casino specifically. It’s not about convenience, or luxury — she already has both. It’s aboutsomeone.”
Aria leans back slowly. “So what, you think this affair ties into the fake jewels?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “But if Vincent’s seeing Talia behind Dalton Brandt’s back, that’s a direct line between the two casino empires. And if they’re working together — or covering for each other — that could explain everything. The fake recovery, the confession, the sudden push to end the investigation.”
Aria’s quiet for a moment. Then, softly: “You think Vincent planted the story about the janitor.”
“I think Vincent wanted it to go away,” I say. “And Talia had the leverage to help him do it.”
She exhales, running a hand through her hair. “Presley, if that’s true?—”
“Then we’re not just chasing a jewel thief anymore,” I say. “We’re standing in the middle of a cover-up.”
The door handle clicks. Voices outside stop.
I look at Aria one last time before Vincent and Miranda step in. “Play it cool,” I murmur. “We don’t want them to know what we know.”
She nods once, eyes steady.
Vincent sits across from me, jacket off, sleeves rolled, that permanent air of authority wrapped around him like armor. Miranda’s beside him, flipping through a file she’s already memorized, pretending to be bored.
Aria’s next to me, straight-backed, calm, professional. She opens her folder, ready to speak, and I can tell by the look in her eyes that she’s about to lay it all out—every hole, every inconsistency, every reason this case shouldn’t be over.
Which means it’s time for me to do something stupid. Before she can start, I stand. Her head snaps toward me, confusion flashing in her expression. “Presley?—”
I give her a small shake of the head.Just trust me.
“Before we get into the details,” I begin, voice smooth, practiced, steady, “I wanted to give a quick overview of where we stand.”
Vincent leans back in his chair, satisfied. He loves a presentation.
I keep my tone neutral. “Our joint investigation has been thorough. We’ve rechecked entry logs, verified shift schedules, and mapped every service corridor within range of the transfer point. We’re still reviewing footage—especially from the night of the exchange—but we haven’t gotten through all of it yet.”
Miranda nods, uninterested. “And you don’t expect to find anything else, correct?”
I pause, letting the silence stretch just enough to sound professional. “At this stage,” I say finally, “there’s no activethreat to the assets. The recovered jewels match the recorded measurements, and the internal reports all align with the timeline provided by both casinos.”
I can feel Aria’s eyes on me. She knows I’m lying. Knows exactly what I’m doing. But she doesn’t stop me. She just folds her hands in her lap and lets me keep going.
