Page 2 of Indigo Deception
“Mr. Bellanti.” A sultry voice interrupts my thoughts. I turn to find Claire Kovac smiling up at me. Speak of the devil. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Never intentionally.” I kiss her hand, playing my part. “You look stunning.”
“My father sends his regards.” Her green eyes glitter with challenge. “He’s very interested in discussing joint ventures.”
“Is he now?” I keep my tone light, but my mind is racing. The Kovacs never make social overtures without an agenda.
My phone buzzes again. Veronica.
“Excuse me,” I tell Claire. “Duty calls.”
In a quiet corner, I finally return Veronica’s call. Her voice is tight with worry.
“We have a leak,” she says without preamble. “Someone’s been accessing our core systems.”
Ice slides down my spine. “How bad?”
“Bad enough that I think we need outside help. I have someone in mind–a risk management consultant who specializes in these situations.”
I watch the crowd, my genius mind already calculating possibilities and consequences. In our world, a leak isn’t just about money. It’s about survival.
“Send me their details,” I tell her. “I’ll handle the interview personally.”
As I end the call, I catch my reflection in a nearby mirror. Everyone sees what I want them to see: the handsome playboy, the financial wizard, the legitimate face of the Bellanti empire. None of them see the steel beneath the smile, the darkness behind the charm.
But someone is about to learn exactly who I am. And God help them when I find out who’s trying to destroy everything I’ve built.
2
Gianna
Themanilafolderslapsdown on the desk in front of me. I don't flinch. The sound echoes through the briefing room, but I keep my face impassive, just like I've trained myself to do for the past decade.
"Angelo Bellanti," Judge Katrina Kaif says, her steel-gray bob catching the harsh fluorescent light as she leans forward. "The golden prince of the Bellanti crime syndicate."
They don't call her "The Iron Judge" for nothing. Kaif built her career taking down corrupt Wall Street executives, her reputation for incorruptibility making her both feared and respected.
But I know there's more than just professional ambition driving her. Her younger brother—an investigative journalist digging into organized crime—was murdered by an organized crime family, who made it look like a random mugging.
She's been hunting organized crime syndicates ever since, focusing on the Bellantis, who've proven the most elusive.
I stare at the photograph clipped to the front of the folder. Dark hair, styled to perfection. A sharp jawline that could cut glass. And eyes—deep green, the kind that make you forget to breathe. But I know better. Those eyes belong to a man who's laundered billions in blood money.
"I've read his file," I say, voice cool and detached. "Wharton graduate. Financial prodigy. Turned their illegal operations into legitimate gold."
Kaif's dark eyes narrow slightly. "What you've read is the sanitized version. What you need to understand is that Angelo Bellanti isn't just some pretty boy playing with spreadsheets. He's the architect of the most sophisticated money laundering operation we've ever encountered."
The room feels suddenly too small, too sterile. The plain white walls, the government-issue furniture, the single table with its four metal chairs. It's simple enough to keep our minds focused on one thing: taking down criminals.
And Angelo Bellanti is definitely a criminal, no matter how charming his smile.
I should ask why I'm chosen for this mission, but I don't, because I already know why—I’m the best.
At thirty, I've closed more financial fraud cases than agents with twice my experience. My colleagues call me the Bloodhound behind my back. Once I catch a scent, I don't let go—not until I've tracked it toits source.
Kaif slides another document across the table. "This is your new identity. Sarah Bennett, risk management consultant. Your background has been meticulously constructed. Education, employment history, digital footprint—it's all there."
I don't touch the document yet. "So I'm going undercover."
