Chapter 231 - 232 Lacey.

"Psyren is going to make her grand entrance up there the moment the artifact gets uncovered," I told her, pitching my voice low against the hum of the crowd. "She’ll stage a theatrical monologue, show off the cube, and then make her escape when she triggers her smoke cover.

"Don’t sweat the henchmen she brings; just take them out however you see fit. But do me a massive favor and try not to get any innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire."

"Do you seriously take me for the kind of person who would willingly put civilians in danger?" she asked, her tone sharpening into an offended edge.

"Apart from throwing knives and breaking mirrors, I have zero historical baseline for what you’ll do when the adrenaline hits," I admitted honestly. "I’m just hoping it involves acting like a proper, upstanding hero instead of a street-level brawler looking to settle a score."

She scoffed, crossing her arms defensively beneath her chest. "Do not fear," she said stiffly. "If it is within my power, I will let no harm come to the citizens of this city."

"Great to hear," I said. "Now, Psyren has to slip away with the fake artifact to set up the next beat of our production. But don’t worry—you’ll get plenty of opportunity to flex those heroic chops of yours and show the press what you’re capable of."

"So I am simply supposed to let your villainess walk away?" she pressed, her single visible eye narrowing dangerously.

"Well, you need to make it look convincing to the cameras, but basically, yes."

Her face pinched like she’d just bitten into a lemon stuffed with garbage. Well, tough break. If it looked like she was genuinely trying to apprehend Psyren for real, I’d step in and put a stop to it.

Until then, though, I had to let the performance breathe. I couldn’t entirely blame Vanessa for being tense.

She was taking a massive, blind leap of faith here, relying on nothing more than Mystic’s quiet endorsement and my sketchy word. It was entirely on me to prove I could run a professional, airtight production.

"Look," I began, trying to soften my tone.

"Miles!"

I whipped around in surprise. "Lacey?" I said.

It was indeed. Lacey Davenport, corporate head of Firefly Industries’ heavy R&D and super-sponsored divisions, glided up behind me.

She was dressed to the nines in a sleek, black evening gown that hugged her figure with aggressive corporate confidence.

The skirt was perilously short, the plunging neckline dangerously low, and the diamonds glittering around her throat and earlobes shone like frozen laser-frost.

She flashed me a dazzling, professional smile, her mirrored designer sunglasses catching the amber gallery lights, while her dark curls tumbled loosely over her shoulders.

"Well, well! I could hardly miss such a magnificent debut," she purred, waving a hand airily at the crowded hall. "And my, my! What an absolute triumph, Miles. Even without Firefly’s official sponsorship backing the staging."

"Thanks," I said, shifting my weight. "I—"

"And before I completely forget," Lacey interrupted smoothly, sliding a hand right between her breasts with zero warning. She pulled a thick, heavy envelope from the bodice of her dress and flourished it toward me with a sharp snap of her wrist. "Firefly’s official donation."

"Donation?" I asked, taking the heavy paper.

"Of course! Firefly Industries is always eager to reinvest our modest corporate profits into essential humanitarian efforts. We long for the glorious day when permanent peace reigns across the globe, and the tragic orphans of conflict no longer exist."

I ran my thumb suspiciously along the glued edge of the envelope. "Doesn’t Firefly manufacture heavy infantry weapons, orbital railguns, and tactical strike drones?"

"It is simply one of our many diverse subsidiaries. Every healthy corporation must branch out into multiple markets," Lacey replied with saccharine sweetness.

I rolled my eyes. "Naturally." I tucked the envelope securely into my inner breast pocket. "I’m sure the orphans will jump for joy. The ones who still have all four limbs, anyway."

"Such unrelenting cynicism," Lacey teased, completely unbothered as she swooped in and looped her warm arm snugly around mine. "And at such a joyous, celebratory occasion, too. Just look at your magnificent prize over there," she added, tipping her chin toward the podium and the tinted display case. "An item of such profound... power. I do sincerely hope your security parameters are robust enough in case of any... unexpected gatecrashers."

"Oh, yes," I said with an aggressive, sugary sincerity. "We’ve hired a dedicated, highly trained detail of professional private guards to keep the premises safe from any rampaging outlaws. I am completely positive we won’t see a single nefarious individual walking off with this extremely valuable, totally legitimate arcane artifact."

"Of course not," Lacey purred, flicking her gaze toward the live jazz band. "Who in their right mind would ever dream of attempting such a reckless thing?"

She smoothly pivoted, her sharp eyes instantly zeroing in on a thoroughly befuddled Vanessa standing beside us. "And it appears you have wonderful company! Hello. I’m Lacey Davenport, representing Firefly Industries. It is an absolute delight to meet you."

"Um... hello," Vanessa said, blinking in surprise as she tentatively reached out to shake Lacey’s manicured hand. "You’ve... worked with Polaris before, then?"

"Quite frequently, in fact," Lacey said smoothly. "And if my corporate radar isn’t mistaken, you must be the rising star—the heroine Hex. It is a genuine privilege to encounter such a promising, up-and-coming crusader here tonight. Someone who so clearly intends to drag this grim world toward a brighter tomorrow."

"I... um, thank you," Vanessa murmured, looking slightly overwhelmed by the corporate-tier charm offensive.

"We really must exchange contact frequencies," Lacey chirped, before seamlessly turning her attention back to me. She slid an inch closer, her body heat radiating through my suit sleeve as her voice dropped into a low, sultry register meant only for my ears. "Though I can clearly see you two are intensely busy. So, allow me to remind you, Miles, that Firefly maintains a great many private connections we would be more than delighted to explore for your emerging syndicate."

I glanced sideways at her, narrowing my eyes. "What exactly are you suggesting, Lacey?"

"I can be remarkably suggestive," she murmured, her chest brushing lightly against my arm as the heat of her breath teased the shell of my ear. "Especially when we are safely behind closed doors. Do drop by my corporate office sometime very soon, Miles. I am quite certain we can workshop a few... explosive ideas together."

With one lingering, tactile brush of her fingers against my wrist that left a faint, electrical buzz tingling up my forearm, Lacey smoothly drifted away, melting seamlessly into a cluster of wealthy corporate suits chatting near the far wall.

I swallowed hard, trying to physically shake off the magnetic static she’d left humming on my skin. Goddamn it. Lacey always knew exactly how to push my buttons.

Yet, her corporate backing might genuinely come in handy soon. I’d been secretly chewing over the logistics for the sequel event after this one, and Firefly’s R&D vaults possessed a few classified toys worth exploring...

I cleared my throat awkwardly, catching Vanessa staring at me with a heavily raised eyebrow. "Uh, enjoy the canapés. The main show is going to kick off in just a few minutes."

"Hm," Vanessa muttered, turning Lacey’s embossed corporate business card over and over between her fingers.