I continue walking, then pause as if to admire a vibrant tulip. I kneel, my hand casually reaching for the phone. In one smooth motion, I slip it into my pocket.
Rising, I continue my walk toward a small grove of trees that borders the lake, fighting the urge to look back. I know this grove creates a blind spot in the camera coverage. It’s not much—maybe thirty seconds—but it’s all I need.
The moment I’m concealed, I pull out the phone and power it on. Less than a minute later, it vibrates. I answer without speaking.
“Report,” Isabel’s voice says, all business.
“Tomorrow night,” I reply, keeping my voice low. “Dinner first, then the club. His office.”
“Good. The package will be in place. Your man on the inside will disable the camera feed. Make sure Nico is... occupied. And unarmed.”
The line goes dead. What could I say? That the way Nico looked at me this morning made me question everything? That the thought of what will happen in his office tomorrow makes me physically ill?
No, the wheels are in motion, and I?—
A twig snaps behind me.
I spin around, nearly dropping the phone in my shock. Blake stands just a few feet away, his expression unreadable, his stance relaxed but alert. He wasn’t following at a distance as I thought. He was right behind me the entire time.
His eyes go to my hand, then rise to meet mine. “Where did you get the phone, Ms. Song?” he asks, his voice dangerously quiet.
My mind scrambles. How much did he hear? “Oh! This?” I hold it up as if just remembering it. “I just found it in that bush over there. It was ringing, that’s how I noticed it.”
Blake’s expression doesn’t change, but his arm extends, palm up. A clear command.
I place the phone in his hand. “I know I shouldn’t have answered, but I thought maybe someone was looking for it.”
“Who were you talking to?” His eyes never leave mine. They are like Nico’s in their intensity, but without the heat.
“No one,” I say, my voice steady. “I answered, but they hung up immediately.” The lie falls from my lips with practiced ease. When did I become such a flawless liar? “I was just about to bring it to you.”
Blake studies the phone, then looks back at me. The silence stretches between us. He pockets the phone. “We should head back,” he finally says. “Mr. Varela will finish his calls soon.”
I nod, relief washing through me even as a new dread takes hold. Did he believe me? Or is he simply waiting to report to Nico?
CHAPTER TWENTY
NICO
I watch her sleep,the first light of dawn casting a golden glow across her face. Her dark lashes rest against her cheeks, and her breathing comes slowly and evenly. For once, the perpetual furrow between her brows is gone, and her lips—those defiant, challenging lips that have driven me to the edge of madness—are slightly parted in perfect repose.
Lea Song. The journalist. The daughter. The pawn that became a queen on my board.
No, not a pawn. Never just a pawn. She was always something more dangerous. A piece that moved by her rules.
I reach out, my fingers hovering just above her cheek but not touching, unwilling to disturb this moment of peace. Last night replays in my mind: her body beneath mine, her whispered confessions, her surrender. For the first time since I found her bound in that abandoned factory, I allowed myself to believe that she might truly be mine.
Not just as a possession, or a means to an end. But mine in a way that makes my chest ache when I look at her.
The realization should terrify me. Alessandro’s words echo in my mind:“Love is a luxury you cannot afford. It’s the one weakness that cannot be turned into strength.”Yet as I watch Lea’s chest rise and fall, I question the fundamental principles that have governed my life. What if Alessandro is wrong? What if this—this consuming, irrational desire to protect her at all costs—is not a weakness but a unique power?
I ease myself out of the bed, careful not to wake her. She stirs slightly, her hand reaching for the warm space I’ve vacated, and something in my chest tightens at the unconscious gesture. I pull the duvet higher around her shoulders, then quietly retrieve my robe and leave the bedroom.
Back in my office,the city spreads out before me; Chicago waking to another day. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glass towers, transforming them into blazing pillars of gold and crimson. From this height, the city looks orderly, peaceful—a perfect illusion. I know better than most what lurks beneath that gleaming surface: the carefully maintained balance of power, the labyrinth of alliances and enmities, the constant threat of chaos.
My world. The one I’ve spent a lifetime building and protecting.
I pour myself a coffee and settle behind my desk, but I make no move to check my emails or messages. My mind is elsewhere, caught in an unfamiliar state of... contentment? Is that what this strange lightness is? This feeling that the weight I’ve carried for so long has somehow shifted?
