Aarya stares daggers at Ash. “Care to do anything else to make this harder than it already is? Maybe you want to streak across the room…or light a curtain on fire?”

Ash winks at her and leans lazily against the bar. “We knew the crew would be a problem. I’m shocked that you’re shocked.”

Aarya gives him a withering look.

While some Strategia go straight to the velvet rope, others appear to be in no rush, casually chatting on couches and drinking at tables. And thankfully, there are also some clusters of non-Strategia to use as marks.

I slip my hand in my pocket, searching out the keys on my phone, and type to Layla.

Me: Entrance problems. Will update when in motion.

“Far right, four-top,” Ash says, and I follow his eyes.

Four non-Strategia men seem to be engrossed in conversation and drinking something of the whisky variety. There are enough empty glasses on the table to indicate they have been consuming a fair amount.

“Agreed,” I say. “It’ll seem like they naturally drank too much.”

Ines nods.

And we wait, scoping out the room for other possible marks to create our diversion. But despite my best efforts, my eyes keep drifting to Hawk, and while I can’t hear what he’s saying, I’m certain he’s memorized the guest list, making him far more organized and savvy than I originally gave him credit for. I eye the champagne server standing next to him. From his uninterested expression and the fact that he keeps checking the clock on the far wall, my bet is that he’s not Strategia and is merely a hotel employee.

“What about the champagne guy?” I say, and look at Ash.

“I considered him, but spilling drinks isn’t enough to distract someone like Hawk,” Ash says.

“It might work if it was part of our larger distraction,” Aarya says. “But we would have to get uncomfortably close. How sure are you that he won’t recognize you behind those masks?”

“Look,” I say. “He’s speaking to each person individually. If we arrange it so that you and Ines are in front of us, it might work.”

“My vote is yes,” Ines says, and we all turn to her. “I can unbalance the server if November can push the drinks toward Aarya.”

“No problem,” I say. “And if our distraction doesn’t work, you can create a stink, Aarya, storm off to the bathroom, and we can regroup.”

Aarya smiles. “Creating a stink is what I do best.”

“So then we’re agreed,” Ash says, and we’re all quiet, the nervous kind of quiet that happens right before you step onstage or run a race.

Next to Ash, the bartender preps a tray with four glasses and fills them with the same amber-colored alcohol the men at the four-top are drinking.

Me: Get ready.