“No, no, no,” she huffed. “You’re going about it all wrong.”
Centossa glanced sideways at Faye skeptically.
“And why do you say that?”
“You’re focusing your attention to the wrong target. Behind every powerful man is a stronger woman,” Faye remarked.
“You need to realize that this business doesn’t respect women whatsoever,” replied Centossa.
“Just watch the pair of them for two seconds,” sighed Faye. “Focus.”
The two targets, a rather burly man and an elegant Latino woman, moved through the crowds before stopping in front of another couple. Centossa and Faye observed the pair comfortably from a booth on the other end of the ballroom. The man approached and talked first, but the conversation was taken over by the woman with one powerful step to her man’s side. Her back was arched, lifting her chest proudly, and she watched the others under her dark eyelashes.
“She’s running it all, can’t you see?” Faye spoke up. Centossa turned his attention back to the redhead, almost grateful that her words allowed him to. “Even he, the face of the organization, bows to her.”
Centossa smirked softly, putting his hands up in defeat. This action earned a coy glitter in Faye’s eyes.
“Fine,” he said. “You’re right, I suppose.”
“Ooh,” Faye smiled. “How did those words taste on your tongue?”
He shook his head, also smiling.