“The safe is programmed to text Dash’s phone every time it opens,” I explain to Tom. “His phone is…” Tom’s eyes widen in impressed comprehension. “Let me guess. On the young man now wringing champagne from his suit?” he asks. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. “My father’s assistant,” I confirm, waiting for the rest of Phase Four to unfold. Instead of the head caterer arriving on the scene and reprimanding the waiter he definitely didn’t hire or train, McCoy will swoop in. He’ll discreetly but professionally escort Deonte off the premises, looking to the crowd like security
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She is smart.
