As Dailey spoke, Hope’s mind began to focus on the task at hand. The mission was dangerous, no doubt about it, but it was also something she could sink her teeth into. The challenge of breaking through the cartel’s layers of security, of getting close enough to its leaders to gather the intelligence they needed, was exactly the kind of work she had been craving.
When the briefing ended, Dailey excused himself, leaving Hope and Seth alone in the office. The silence between them was deafening, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
“Hope—” Seth began, but she cut him off with a sharp look.
“Don’t,” she said, her voice cold. “We’re not doing this. Whatever happened between us at Baker Street, whatever you and Fitzwallace thought you were doing, it’s over. We’re professionals, and that’s all this is going to be.”
Seth’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. “Understood,” he said, his tone clipped.
“Good,” she replied. “Now, let’s get to work.”
But as they left the office and headed down the hall together, the memory of Seth’s touch lingered, a ghostly reminder of the fire that still smoldered between them, no matter how hard she tried to extinguish it. This mission was going to test more than just their professional skills—it was going to test their ability to keep their personal feelings buried deep where they couldn’t interfere.
And that, Hope realized with a sinking feeling, might be the hardest part of all.
CHAPTER 3
SETH
Seth Newcomb, now to be known as Seth Conway, leaned against the ornate iron gate of the luxurious townhouse that was now supposed to be his home—their home. The Georgian façade, with its tall windows and ivy climbing the brickwork, stood as a symbol of old-world charm and wealth. The neighborhood, nestled in the heart of London, was the epitome of elegance and privilege, the kind of place where secrets were kept behind closed doors. Seth glanced down at his watch, then up the street. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the cobblestones and washing the world in shades of gold. The peaceful, idyllic surroundings were a stark contrast to the tension knotting his stomach.
This was the role of a lifetime, a chance to finally take down one of the most dangerous criminal organizations in Europe. But the stakes were higher than ever, and it wasn’t just the mission that had him on edge. It was the woman who would be walking up the steps any minute now.
Hope Pearson. His wife, Hope Conway.
At least, that was what the world was supposed to believe.
He caught sight of her at the end of the block, walking with purpose, every line of her body exuding confidence and control. She was dressed for the part—a stylish trench coat cinched at the waist, perfectly tailored slacks, and heels that added a few inches to her already imposing height. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, exposing the delicate curve of her neck, which Seth had always found maddeningly distracting.
As she approached, her eyes met his, and for a brief moment, he saw something flash there—something between reluctance and resentment. But then her professional mask slipped back into place, and she was once again the cool, untouchable agent who had never let him get too close.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked, her tone crisp as she came to a stop in front of him.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Seth replied, pushing off the gate and opening the door for her. “Welcome home, Mrs. Conway.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stepped inside without acknowledging the endearment. He followed, letting the heavy door close behind them with a soft thud. The interior of the townhouse was as opulent as the exterior—dark wood paneling, high ceilings, and a grand staircase that curved up to the second floor. It was the kind of place designed to impress, to intimidate, and it suited their cover story perfectly.
The truth was, they had been handed a golden opportunity. The townhouse was located in one of London’s most exclusive neighborhoods, where their target—a man named Basil Hargrove, who was rumored to be a high-ranking member of the Obsidian Cartel—lived just a few doors down. It was no coincidence that Hargrove was also known to frequent Baker Street, a BDSM club owned by Cerberus, the very organization he was trying to deceive. Seth had to wonder, if there was a mole at Cerberus, whether Baker Street was where the operative had been recruited by Hargrove and the cartel. The irony wasn’t lost on Hargrove; he seemed to relish the idea that he was operating right under the nose of one of the world’s most powerful covert ops organizations.
But for now, they had to settle in, and more importantly, they had to sell the lie. They were no longer just agents on a mission. They were Seth and Hope Conway, a happily married couple, madly in love, and recently moved to London to start the next chapter of their perfect life together.
“I took the liberty of having some essentials brought in,” Seth said, nodding toward the stack of boxes that had been delivered earlier that day. “Clothes, personal items, things to make it look like we’re planning to stay.”
Hope glanced at the boxes, then turned her attention to the room, taking in the lavish furnishings and the meticulously chosen decor. “Good. We’ll need to establish our presence quickly. I’m guessing Hargrove’s already aware of his new neighbors.”
“Undoubtedly,” Seth agreed, watching her as she moved around the room. “Which means we need to be convincing. We can’t afford any slip-ups.”
“I know how to play the part, Seth,” she replied, her voice tinged with impatience. “I’m not the one you need to worry about.”
Seth let out a low chuckle, unable to resist the bait. “Is that so? Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one who seems uncomfortable with the idea of getting a little… close.”
Hope froze, her back to him, her hands clenched at her sides. He could almost see the tension radiating off her, could practically feel the wall she was building between them brick by brick. She turned slowly, her eyes locking onto his, cold and hard.
“This is a mission, Seth. Nothing more,” she said, her voice like steel. “We do what we have to do, but don’t expect me to play along with your games.”
Seth stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers. He could see the flicker of something in her eyes—fear, maybe, or desire. It was always hard to tell with Hope. She was a master at hiding her emotions and keeping people at arm’s length, but he wasn’t just anyone. He knew her better than most, and he knew when she was bluffing.
“No games, Hope,” he said softly, taking another step until he was close enough to reach out and touch her. “This is about survival. We need to be convincing, and that means getting comfortable with each other. Right now, you’re acting like I’m a threat.”
