The fact that I sometimes forgot I was acting is irrelevant.
I move to the window, staring out at the moonlit grounds. In the distance, I spot the silhouette of the old stables, where Ezra had pressed me against an empty stall with an intensity that made my knees weak. Where he mapped my body like my flesh was his to give form and life.
For thirty-one days, I lived in his orbit, slept in his bed, used his shower, and wore his clothes when mine were in the laundry. I learned the way he drank his coffee black with no sugar, how he muttered fragments of poetry and art auction lot numbers in his sleep, and the exact pressure of his hands when he was trying to be gentle but failing, always too urgent, too hungry.
I’d gotten too close, forgotten the cardinal rule of my profession.Never believe your own lies.
The door could open at any minute. Aaiden could return with Ezra, and I’d be trapped in this room with the one person who might see through my disguise.
I need to leave. Now.
Crossing to the door, I press my ear to the wood. The corridor beyond is silent. No footsteps, no voices. This might be my only chance to escape before I’m forced to face whatever complicated emotions await me in Ezra’s presence.
I’ve done my duty. I’ve told the Rockfords about Jade. They’ll handle it from here. They have the resources, the connections, and the manpower to save him. My continued involvement is unnecessary.
My hand settles on the doorknob, the brass cool beneath my palm. I turn it slowly, expecting resistance, but it rotates with ease. Not locked.
The door opens a crack, revealing an empty hallway beyond. The path to freedom lies clear before me. Twenty steps to the staircase. Another thirty to the side entrance. I don’t need to take the same path the servant brought me here by. I know it’s only sixty seconds to the exit, and I’ll be in my car, driving away from this mansion and its memories.
Away from the possibility of seeing Ezra again.
My heart pounds, each beat a counter-argument. What if they don’t move fast enough? What if they can’t find the hidden room? What if they need more information than I already provided?
I close the door, the latch clicking back into place. I can’t leave yet. Not until I give them everything I know so they can save Jade.
I move back to the center of the room, the calm of committing to a course of action, however ill-advised, steadying my pulse.
Footsteps approach in the hallway outside, and my muscles tense, preparing for fight or flight, though neither option is an option now.
The door handle turns, and I wrap my Nico Duran persona around me. Jade didn’t recognize me. Neither did Aaiden.
I’ll be fine.
The door swings open, and time collapses like a house of cards. Ezra Rockford stands on the threshold, scanning the room before locking onto mine.
He’s different, sharper somehow, the boyish softness I remember carved away to reveal the defined angles in his jaw, a harder set to his mouth. The silver streak in his hair catches the light, a lightning strike in the golden-brown waves. His nostrils flare, and primal hunger flickers behind his golden-hazel eyes.
My pulse spikes, blood rushing in my ears. I’m wearing blockers. I register as a Beta. There’s no way he can catch even a hint of my pheromones.
He closes the door, and my heart beats faster as Ezra’s presence fills the room.
I can’t tear my eyes away from him. He’s taller than I remembered, or perhaps it’s the way he carries himself now, tension coiled in his broad shoulders and a predatory stillness in his stance. Despite the late hour, he wears a tailored suit that accentuates the new muscle he’s added in the past year, his frame more solid, more imposing.
I force myself to take measured breaths, hunched to appear timid and disguise my real height. The contacts change my eye color, and my blond wig is different from my natural dark-brown. I’ve lost weight, too, my sharp cheekbones accentuated by bronzer, makeup giving the illusion of a narrower nose, a softer jaw. My speech is different, too, my voice and cadence rehearsed. Even the way I stand is part of the act.
I’m the exact opposite of the Professor Elias Knox that Ezra knew.
Yet when he steps forward, I can’t stop myself from taking an instinctive step back, my ass bumping the edge of Aaiden’s desk. Ezra advances again, close enough now for his pheromones to invade my senses. My body remembers this scent and responds to it before my mind can intervene.
Heat blooms low in my belly, and I shift my weight, trying to edge along the desk.
“Don’t.” The single word contains multitudes. Command. Plea. Threat.
I freeze, caught in his gravity.
“There’s something familiar about you.” His voice drops lower, intimate in the space between us. “Have we met before?”
“No.” The lie scrapes past my tight throat, thin as thread.
