NOAH.

I woke to a crazy ass pounding in my head. The force of it felt like someone had resorted to cracking my skull open with a sledgehammer while I slept. Rolling on my side, the room was dimly lit since the heavy curtains were hellbent on choking out most of the morning light. That was my luck, because the migraine I felt in my head got worse with even the faint glow seeping through and made me wince in intense pain. My mouth tasted awfully dry, and every bone in my body ached like I had been in a fight all night. Except I was in a sexual tango? The sheets on my side of the bed were tangled around my legs, and when I sniffed the air, I noted it carried a faint trace of jasmine. Then I recalled her name. Lila. It hit me like a stray bullet sharply to the guts.

I sat up to scan the room. It was empty. No trace of her. The space beside me was cold, and barely dented, just like it hadn't been sleeping all night. I pressed my hand towards the mattress, half-expecting it to hold some lingering warmth and proof she had been real and my night wasn't a dream. Nothing. Just the faint hum of the air conditioner. My gut twisted with emptiness. She was gone.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The room wasn't mine, but hers, or so she said while we chatted at Club Eden's. I wiped my forehead like it could magically remind me of what had happened between then and that moment, but all I got was a haze flickering in my memory of her silhouette as she moved through the crowd with all her curves and confidence. Lila.

"Fuck!" I yelled, sinking my fist into the mattress. I had been so drunk that I had broken my own damn rule...no one-night stands...and now here I was, alone in a stranger's hotel room with a foggy recollection of her lips, her moans, and the way her nails had dug into my back.

I stumbled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. The mirror showed me my bloodshot eyes, stubble creeping across my jaw, and a hickey blooming on my collarbone.

"Hickey?" I leaned closer, staring at the mark. The mark irked me, but then it meant she wasn't made-up. Lila was Real. She was real. But where in the fucking hell was she?

I went back to check the room again, desperate for something she had left behind. No purse, no clothes, no phone. Not even a damn hairpin. I tore through the drawers, the closet, even the trash can. Nothing. My pulse kicked up in frustration and deep curiosity. To a hacker like me, Lila was a puzzle, and I had always been great at solving those puzzles.

Knowing there was nothing left in the room, I grabbed my stuff and walked out. Down at the front desk, the receptionist's bored expression lit up the second she recognized me. She was a young woman with a tight bun, "Mr Bennet? Is that really you?" She said in a singsong voice, breaking into a charming smile.

"Hey, I need you to look up Lila in the Pineapple suit for me." I said, dismissing her awe-stricken vibe. The last thing I needed was being seen out there by some happy-go-lucky paparazzi crew.

The lady's expression dropped as she hastily turned her attention to the laptop before her. In five seconds, her eyes were glaring back at me. "We have no record of a Lila staying here," she said, her voice flat as she tapped at the keyboard. "Are you sure about the name, Mr Bennett?"

"I'm sure," I snapped, my patience fraying. "She booked this room. I was with her last night."

The woman's eyes flicked to me, then back to her screen. "No Lila. No reservation under that name. You want me to check again?"

I clenched my jaw, nodding. She typed, sighed, and shook her head. "Nothing. Maybe she used a different name?"

"Never mind. Thanks" I said as I walked away before I said something I would regret. A different name. Of course. Why hadn't I thought of that? Because I'd been too busy drowning in whiskey and her scent to ask questions. My hands balled into fists as I pushed through the hotel's glass doors and into the blinding morning sun. My car was parked in the lot, a sleek black Audi that felt like the only thing grounding me right now. I slid behind the wheel, the leather creaking under my weight, and gripped the steering wheel so hard.

As I drove back to my place, my mind wasn't on the road, though. It was on her. Lila. She had high cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that seemed to see right through you. And that body... Christ, I could still feel the way her hips had pressed against mine, the way her breath had hitched when I had kissed her neck. But it wasn't just lust clawing at me. There was something about the way she'd moved, like she was playing a game.

I turned onto the highway, the hum of the engine steadying my thoughts. The Atlas Cartel mess was waiting for me back home, and I couldn't afford to be distracted. The loss of the previous day's shipment still hung in the air. It was worth a fortune in product, and somewhere between the pickup and delivery location, it was gone, probably lost to a raid or a double-cross; we didn't know yet. As COO, I had taken the heat, and Zane hadn't held back. I could still hear his words echoing in my head. "Five years without a hitch, Noah, and you let this happen?" The rebuke had cut deeper than it should've, mostly because of Sienna.

Sienna. His fiancée. Co-leader of the cartel alongside Zane. I didn't begrudge her the position because she'd earned it, clawing her way up through sheer grit and sharper instincts than most of us combined. But Zane's favoritism of her was starting to grate. He had always had a soft spot for her, even before they'd fallen in love, and now it felt like she could do no wrong while the rest of us, me, Damian, Liam, and Ethan, were held to a different standard.

I had tried talking to Damian about it, but he'd just shrugged, too obsessed with turning Club Eden into the next big thing to care about cartel politics. Liam and Ethan were off in Europe, handling operations in London and Berlin, leaving me to stew in my own frustration. Now that frustrated move, I made about drinking that pushed me to meet Lila was starting to seem like I had made an even bigger mess of things.

I pulled into my driveway, the sleek architectural design of my house coming into view. It was too big for one person, all glass, but it was home. I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, staring at the dashboard. Lila's face flashed in my mind again. Who was she? Why had she vanished? And why did I care so damn much?

Inside, I tossed my keys on the counter and headed for the shower. The hot water didn't wash away the questions, though. If anything, it sharpened them. I leaned my forehead against the tile, letting the steam envelop me. My memory of last night was a patchwork of flashes of her laugh, her fingers trailing down my chest, the way she had whispered her moans. But there were gaps, too, moments lost to the haze of whiskey and lust. Had she said anything about herself? A last name? A job? The reason she was at Club Eden, of all places?

I dried off and threw on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, my mind still churning. The cartel's problems could wait a few hours because I needed answers about Lila. I grabbed my laptop and sank onto the couch, pulling up every database I had access to. Being COO of a cartel came with perks, including connections to less-than-legal systems for tracking people. I typed in "Lila," knowing it was a long shot. No last name, no address, just a first name and a face I couldn't shake. The search came up empty, as expected.

I leaned back, running a hand through my damp hair. My phone buzzed on the coffee table, and I glanced at the screen. Audrey, the PR lead for Atlas. My stomach tightened. I hadn't told her about my no-show for the conference scheduled for that morning and hadn't even thought about how to explain it. I let the call go to voicemail, guilt prickling at the edges of my thoughts.

I grabbed my jacket and headed back out, driving to Club Eden. If Lila had been there, someone had to have seen her. The club was quiet in the daylight, its neon signs dark, the parking lot nearly empty. I pushed through the front door, the faint smell of stale liquor and perfume hitting me like a memory. The bartender, Marco, whom I'd known for years, was wiping down the counter.

"Noah," he said, nodding. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon."

I slid onto a stool, keeping my tone casual. "Looking for someone. A woman I met here last night. Lila. You know her?"

Marco's hands paused on the rag, his brow furrowing. "Lila? I don't know any regulars by that name. Describe her."

I did everything I could remember. The curve of her jaw, the way her blonde hair fell in waves over her shoulders, the green flecks in her blue eyes. Marco listened, then shook his head. "Sounds like a dream, man, but I didn't see anyone like that. You sure she was here?"

"I'm sure," I said.

He shrugged. "Check with Damian. He's got eyes everywhere."

I found Damian in his office, surrounded by paperwork and a half-empty bottle of bourbon. He looked up, his usual smirk in place. "Rough night, brother?"

"Something like that," I said, leaning against the doorframe. "You clearly saw me with that woman named Lila last night, blonde hair, killer smile."

Damian's smirk faded slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Lila, huh? Doesn't ring a bell. Why?"

"Just need to find her," I said, keeping it vague. Damian didn't push, but I could tell he was curious. He had always been good at reading people, especially me.

"I'll ask around," he said finally. "But Noah, are you sure she's worth the trouble? Sex that good?"

I didn't answer. I wasn't sure of anything anymore.

By the time I got back home, the sun was starting to come out. I poured myself a drink, the whiskey burning my throat as I stood on my balcony, staring out at the city.

My phone buzzed again. Audrey. This time, I answered.

"Noah," she said. "Where have you been? I've been calling all day. You missed the conference, not a great look for the company".

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I know. I'm sorry. It's been... a morning."

"Are you okay?" she asked, and I could hear the concern in her voice, the kind that made my chest ache because I didn't deserve it.

"Yeah," I lied. "Just dealing with some stuff."

There was a pause, then her voice softened further. "Come over. Please. We really need you to show up. I have talked with the producer to move things back a bit. We have to do this."

I hesitated, the weight of the previous night pressing down on me. But I couldn't say no to her, not when she sounded like that. "I'll be there in twenty."

"Great. Thank you, Noah."

In thirty minutes, I was at her office, which was filled with the fragrance of vanilla candles and the faint hum of jazz from her speakers. Audrey was curled up on the seat, her dark hair loose, her blue eyes searching for mine as I walked in. She stood, crossing the room to wrap her arms around me. I hugged her back, breathing her in, trying to anchor myself. She was our bridge between the truth about our operations and the world, and she took the role to heart. Audrey made sure we were spotlessly clean before the world and ensured she gave us each a prep before putting us in front of the camera. She was our media big sister in the empire.

"You look like hell," she said, pulling back to study my face. Her fingers brushed my jaw, and I fought the urge to flinch, remembering Lila's touch in that same spot.

"Feel like it too," I admitted, sinking onto the couch beside her.

She sat close, her knee almost brushing mine. "Talk to me, Noah. What's going on?"

I wanted to tell her everything about Lila, but that would mean telling Zane and the rest of the cartel we were in trouble. Instead, I took her hand, lacing my fingers through hers. "I'm just... off. The shipment, Zane, all of it. I don't know."

Her thumb traced circles in my palm, her touch grounding me. "Zane's hard on everyone, you know that. But he trusts you. We all do."

I looked at her, really looked at her, " We don't deserve you," I said quietly.

She smiled, soft and warm. "Yes, you do. And I'm not going anywhere, no firm is going to pay half as much as Atlas does anyway."

"Thank you," I said later, letting my head rest on the couch.

"No, thank you for showing up. If you excuse me, I have to inform the crew you are ready to start," she said.

"Do that. See you out there,"

"Make us proud," Audrey said, strolling out of the office. My eyes drifted to the window, to the city beyond, where Lila was out there somewhere, waiting to be found. And I knew, deep down, I wouldn't stop until I uncovered the truth about her, wherever and whomever she was.

HARPER.

The luxury-decorated hall was filled with the kind of energy that makes one feel a sense of belonging. Crystal chandeliers threw bright light across the room, adding a touch of sparkle to the sequined gowns and tuxes that everyone in the room wore. The air smelled of expensive perfume oozing with ambition. Who would blame them? After all, it was what brought me there, too. Becoming Lila was phase one of my strategy and it had been a good touch. With my bug on Noah's Calendar, I was closer to Atlas's than ever. The next phase of my plan was why I was at the banquet hall that evening.

I stood near the entrance, clasping a glass of untouched champagne in my hand as I scanned the crowd at the Los Angeles annual Tech gala, with my press badge hanging around my neck, granting me access but marking me as an outsider. I didn't mind. Outsiders saw everything others missed.

Since the guests were still arriving, the action was outside on the red carpet, and I walked out of the hall to participate in the ongoing circus. The flashing cameras, shouted questions, and the low hum of anticipation that always preceded the arrival of a big shot all made me soak the air with nostalgia. I had been there with a notebook tucked into my clutch, while my ears pricked for any lead gist worth chasing. They had been my humble beginning, and perhaps they will usher me into a better future that day.

Most of the arrivals were tech moguls and local celebrities, all showing off the usual parade of wealth and influence and none caught my attention as I took a sip of my champagne watching the media buzz. But then a sleek white Bentley rolled up, and the crowd's energy shifted, and soft murmurs rippled through the reporters, tightening their focus at once. Every camera lens was redirected to capture the car angles, and I leaned forward, squinting against the glare of spotlights, waiting to see who could command that kind of buzz.

The car flung open, and Audrey Movitch stepped out, and my breath caught. I could hear the hush fall on everyone on the red carpet. Audrey was the PR handler for the Atlas Group. Of course. Her presence explained the sudden charge in the air. She moved with the grace of someone who had mastered the art of being watched, her tailored navy dress hugging her frame, her auburn hair swept into an elegant chignon. But it wasn't her poise or her designer heels that held my attention. It was the way her smile never quite reached her eyes as she turned to field questions from the press line. While they hauled lots of questions about Atlas operations, she answered each of them with a polished deflection, showing her masterclass in saying nothing while sounding like she was spilling everything. I knew that trick. I have seen it in politicians, CEOs, and liars. My pulse quickened. Audrey Movitch was in on the other dark deals Atlas is involved in aside from the tech business; she was clearly hiding something, and I was going to find out what. Just like the four brothers, Audrey was loyal to the group. She had been working with Atlas for over six years. Investment banking didn't breed that kind of loyalty and secrecy. I'd thought she was in the clear and merely doing her job as a PR specialist until that moment. Bingo Audrey!

I watched her work the red carpet, her responses smooth as glass. "The Atlas Group is thrilled to support innovation in sustainable tech investment," she said to one reporter. "Our focus is on empowering the future, not dwelling on the past." The reporter nodded, scribbling furiously, but I caught the slight tightening of her jaw when someone asked about the brothers' private ventures. She laughed it off, a tinkling sound that didn't match the flicker of unease in her eyes. My fingers twitched around my glass. I was trained to spot the cracks in a facade, and Audrey's was starting to show. The gala's host called for everyone to move inside, and I trailed the crowd, keeping my eyes on Audrey. She glided toward the main hall, her posture impeccable with a fixed smile.

I needed to get close to her, too, not just for a soundbite like the other reporters, but for something real. My charming vibe was going to come in handy, knowing that years of working in rooms like this had taught me how to make people trust me and forget I was a journalist until it was too late. After the press had eased off on her trail, I decided it was time for me to warm up my way to the PR lady. I adjusted my dress, a deep emerald number that hugged my curves without screaming for attention, and made my move.

"Audrey Movitch?" I said, falling into step beside her as we entered the hall. My voice was light with the kind of tone that invited confidence. "You handled that press line like a pro. I'm Harper Kane, by the way."

She turned, her eyes assessing me in a heartbeat. Up close, she was even more striking. She had sharp cheekbones, a smattering of freckles across her nose, and eyes that seemed to see right through me. But her smile was practiced. "Thank you, Harper. It's just part of the job. You're with...?"

"Freelance, mostly," I said, keeping it vague. "I cover the tech beat for a few outlets. You know, chasing the next big thing." I flashed a grin, letting a hint of mischief creep into it. "Though I have to say, Atlas always seems to be the story everyone wants but no one can quite get."

Her laugh was soft, but I caught the edge in it. "We're just a boring investment firm, I'm afraid. Not much of a story there."

I tilted my head, letting my expression say I didn't buy it without being rude. "Oh, I don't know. Five brothers running a billion-dollar empire? That's the kind of thing that sells papers."

She didn't miss a beat. "They're brilliant men with a vision. I'm lucky to work with them." Her tone was perfect, but her fingers tightened slightly around her clutch. Gotcha Audrey.

We reached the seating area and I glanced at the place cards, my heart doing a little leap of its own when I saw my name next to hers. Luck or fate, I didn't care. I was exactly where I needed to be.

"Looks like we're tablemates," I said, pulling out her chair before she could. A small gesture, but it set the tone for charm since I was here to make her comfortable and definitely like me.

She slid into her seat in fluid movements, and I took the chair beside her. The room buzzed with conversation mixed with the clink of glasses and cutlery. Onstage, a tech influencer was droning about the Fintech future, but I barely listened. My focus was on Audrey, how her gaze flicked to the stage but never settled. She was on guard, and I needed to change that.

"So," I said, leaning in just enough to make it feel intimate without crowding her, "how do you do it? Managing the PR for a juggernaut like Atlas. I bet you've got stories that'd make my hair curl."

She smiled, and this time it felt a little more genuine. "It's a lot of coffee and a good pair of heels," she said, crossing her legs. "But honestly, it's about knowing the mission. The brothers are intense, but they're focused. They want to change the world, and I help them tell that story."

I nodded, filing away the word "intense." It wasn't much, but it was a start. "Must be exhausting, though. Keeping all those plates spinning. I mean, the brothers, Zane, Ethan, Noah, Damian and Liam. They're practically perfect. No one ever sees them slip up. That's got to be your doing."

Her eyes flickered, just for a moment, and I knew I had hit a nerve. "They're disciplined," she said, her voice steady but her fingers brushing the stem of her glass a little too quickly. "They know what's at stake."

I wanted to push, to ask what exactly was at stake, but I held back. Pushing too soon, and she'd clam up. Instead, I pivoted. "I get it. I've covered enough CEOs to know the ones who shine do it because they've got someone like you in their corner. You're like the magic behind the curtain."

That got a real laugh out of her, a low, throaty sound filled me with warmth. "Wizard, huh? I'll take it. But I'm no Oz. Just a girl from Chicago who's good at her job."

"Chicago?" I latched onto it, sensing an opening. "No way, I spent a summer there interning at the Tribune. Best deep-dish pizza I've ever had. You a Lou Malnati's fan or what?"

Her face lit up, and for the first time, I saw her relax. "Lou's is solid, but I'm a Pequod's girl. Caramelized crust, extra sausage. You don't mess with perfection."

I grinned, leaning back in my chair. "Pequod's? Okay, I respect it. We used to argue about pizza rankings in the newsroom like it was a blood sport. What else do you miss about Chicago?"

We slipped into easy banter, trading stories about dive bars and lakefront summers. I kept my questions in a friendly light, letting her lead, but I was always watching, always listening. The way her shoulders loosened when she talked about her old neighborhood, the way her eyes darted to her phone when a notification pinged. She was good, but she wasn't perfect. There was something behind her polish, she had something she was guarding. I just needed time to find it.

The talk show portion of the evening dragged on, some panel about blockchain that had half the room checking their watches. I used the lull to keep Audrey talking, steering the conversation to safer ground on movies, travel, the chaos of PR life. I mirrored her energy, laughing at her jokes, nodding at the right moments. By the time the panel wrapped, we were chatting like old friends, and when she pulled out her business card, I knew I'd played it right.

"Here," she said, handing it to me with a smile. "In case you ever want to talk about pizza or PR disasters."

I took it, my fingers brushing hers, and slipped my own card into her hand. "Oh, I'll be calling. You're too interesting to let slip away."

Her smile faltered for a split second, and I wondered if she'd caught the double meaning. But she recovered fast, tucking my card into her clutch. "Looking forward to it, Harper."

The gala was winding down already with guests drifting toward the exits, but I wasn't ready to let her go. I needed more than a card. I needed her trust. "Hey," I said, standing as she did, "you want to grab a drink? Somewhere less... chandelier-y? I know a great spot a few blocks from here. No press, no pressure."

She hesitated, and I held my breath, knowing this was the make-or-break moment. My mind raced, wondering if I had pushed too hard? Was she seeing through me? But then she nodded, her smile softening. "Sure. I could use a drink."

We slipped out a side door, avoiding the lingering photographers, and stepped into the cool night air. The city hummed around us, neon lights reflecting off wet pavement. I led her to a quiet bar I'd scouted earlier, a place with dim lighting and booths that promised privacy. We settled in, ordering some cocktails, and I let the conversation flow naturally, steering it away from Atlas for now. I needed her to feel safe, to see me as a friend, not a threat.

"So," I said, stirring my drink, "you ever get tired of the PR game? All the spinning, the secrets?"

She took a sip, her eyes meeting mine over the rim of her glass. "Sometimes. But it's what I'm good at. And it's not all secrets. Some stories are worth telling."

"I bet you've got some good ones. The kind that don't make it to the press releases."

She laughed, but there was a guarded edge to it. "Maybe. But you know how it is, some things are better left off the record."

"For now," I said, flashing a playful grin. "But I'm patient. And I'm a great listener."

She studied me, and for a moment, I thought she might shut down. But then she leaned back, her posture easing. "You're trouble, Harper Kane. I can tell."

"Only the good kind," I shot back, and we both laughed, the tension breaking like a wave.

"I think we will make great friends" Audrey said, sipping on her cocktail.

We talked for hours, the bar emptying around us. I kept it light, letting her share what she wanted, but every word, every gesture, was a piece of the puzzle. Audrey Movitch was my way in, my key to unlocking whatever the Atlas Group was hiding. I didn't know what it was yet, but I felt it in my bones. There was something big enough that could improve my career. And as we clinked glasses, I knew I was closer than ever to finding it.

DAMIAN.

The smart TV screen flickered off after the video chat with the brothers, leaving the private office in Club Eden bathed in the dim glow of my lamp. Noah's voice still echoed in my head, his insistence that the missing shipment was just a clerical error grating against my instincts. He had claimed the shipment was missing because of a paper mix-up. Sure, if others believed that.

I leaned back in my leather chair as I thought of Noah's recent spiral, the booze, his hallucinations about some bimbo he picked to warm his bed, and his distractions at work. I had considered reaching out to Zane, letting him know his little brother was teetering on the edge of a cliff. But Zane was neck-deep in wedding plans with Sienna, probably picking out tablecloths or some nuptial nonsense. I decided to keep an eye on Noah myself for now.

The intercom buzzed sharply, snapping me out of my thoughts. I straightened, smoothing a hand over my tailored jacket. "Yeah?" I said, pressing the button.

"Mr. Pierce, you have a guest," came the clipped voice of my assistant, Kendra. "Ava Sinclair." My pulse kicked up a notch. Ava. Of course, she'd show up unannounced without warning.

I glanced at my desk, filled with scattered papers, a half-empty glass of bourbon, and a pen I'd been fidgeting with during the call. It looked so unkempt. I shoved the papers into the drawer, capped the pen, and tucked the glass behind a stack of books. A quick check in the small mirror on the wall confirmed my tie was straight, my dark hair still in place. I grabbed the cologne bottle from the shelf, spritzed an extra layer, and inhaled the sharp, woody scent.

"Send her in," I said.

Seconds after, the door flung open, and Ava Sinclair stepped into the room. She moved in like she owned the space, letting her heels click against the polished hardwood with reckless abandon. Her blue-colored dress, hugging curves, made my loins groan with desire instantly. She had styled her hair to fall in loose waves over one shoulder, and her eyes locked onto mine with that familiar touch of challenge and amusement. I forced myself to stay seated and keep my hands still on the desk, even as my blood thrummed with the memory of her... how things were between us years ago, before everything got complicated.

"Damian," she said, "you're looking... busy."

I smirked, leaning back in my chair, letting my gaze linger on her just long enough to make her notice. "Always am, Ava. You know that. What brings you to my little corner of the world?"

She didn't sit. Instead, she crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly, her lips curving into a smile that made her eyes lit up even more. "We have real business to talk about."

My gut tightened. Ava didn't do small talk, and "real business" with her usually meant trouble. I gestured to the chair across from my desk. "Sit. Let's hear it."

She hesitated, then slid into the chair, crossing her legs in a way that made the room feel smaller. I kept my eyes on her face, but it took effort to focus. I had to echo my mantra repeatedly. Damian. She's Zane's sister. She's off-limits.

Yet the thought didn't stop the heat creeping up my neck.

"Someone's threatening to leak information about me to the press," she said, cutting straight to it. "I believe that you do have a snitch in your operations or mine. Maybe both. You feel it too, don't you?"

I did. The missing shipment Noah swore, was a mix-up? I hadn't bought it for a second. My jaw tightened as I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. "You got proof, or is this just your gut talking?"

Her eyes narrowed, "My gut's never wrong, Damian. You know that. But if you want proof, how about the fact that my last two modeling contracts got tanked because someone tipped off the clients about my... connections? To Zane and the cartel."

The mention of her career hit me like a jab. Ava had climbed her way to the top of the modeling world, having her face on billboards from Paris to Tokyo. But her ties to our cartel were undisclosed. Zane had insisted on that. I knew the game. Rivals didn't just compete, they destroyed. And someone was gunning for her.

"Who's coming for you?" I asked, my voice low, steady, even as my mind raced. A snitch in the cartel was bad enough. A rival targeting Ava? That was personal.

She leaned forward, mirroring my posture, her floral perfume hitting me like a wave. "I believe it has to do with Venessa Kane," she said. "Lately she's been whispering in ears and spreading lies about me to foreign clients. I know she's got connections of her own, Damian. Deep ones. And with the intensity she's working at, I doubt she's just after me. She's perhaps poking around Atlas and looking for cracks."

Vanessa Kane was a shady bitch, always skirting the edges of our world but never quite bold enough to step into the ring. Until now, apparently. I rubbed my thumb along the edge of my desk, my mind spinning through the possibilities. If Nessa was behind the leaks and the missing shipments, it meant she had someone on the inside.

"You're sure it's her?" I asked, watching her closely. Ava wasn't one to throw accusations without cause, but she wasn't above playing angles to get what she wanted. Especially when it comes to me. Nessa and I had our history and I wasn't going to put it past Ava to poke on it just to get close to me.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm sure. And I need your help to stop her from finding her bug; we cut Vanessa off at the knees. Together."

There it was. The pitch. I sat back, folding my arms, letting the silence stretch. Working with Ava meant diving headfirst into a minefield. Not just because of the danger looming but because of her. Every look, every word, every brush of her hand was going to be a test of my self-control. And I was already failing.

"Why me?" I asked, keeping my tone light, teasing, even as my pulse hammered. "You've got Zane, your big brother. Why not go to him?"

Her smile faded, and for a moment, she flickered her eyes. "Zane's distracted, we all know that. Sienna's got him wrapped up in wedding plans, and I'm not dragging him into this. Not yet. Besides..." She paused, her gaze softening, just enough to make my chest ache. "You owe me, Damian."

The words hit like a sucker punch. I had walked away from her years ago, not because I wanted to, but because Zane had made it clear that Ava was family, and family was untouchable. I had promised to keep my distance. But promises didn't erase the way my skin burned when she looked at me like that.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the intercom buzzed again, shattering the moment. I jabbed the button, irritation flaring. "What?"

"Mr. Pierce, Rico's here," Kendra said. "Says it's urgent."

Rico. One of our cartel contacts, the kind who only showed up when the sky was falling. I glanced at Ava, who raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Send him in," I said, my gut twisting.

Rico slunk into the room in his leather jacket, announcing every step he took. His eyes were darting between me and Ava as he started to talk. "Damian," he said, ignoring Ava entirely. "We got a problem. Big one."

"Spit it out," I said,

"Word on the street is someone's putting a copy on Atlas shipments. And I am afraid we may also not get our next shipment."

"What? We have a dub? Meaning we can not meet our gang's delivery. That's war looming."

I glanced at Ava, whose expression was unreadable, her fingers gripping the arms of her chair. She'd heard every word.

"Exactly. We need to talk with Zane immediately."

"I will pass it on. In the meantime, get me probable suspect names," I said to Rico. "Who's talking, who's paying, who's taking the job. I want everything."

Rico nodded, already backing toward the door. "On it, boss."

He was gone before I could respond. The air in the room felt even more tense now. I turned to Ava, who was staring at me with questions in her eyes.

"You still think this is just about your modeling gigs?" I asked her.

She stood, pacing to the window. "It's bigger than I thought," she admitted. "But it doesn't change what I need from you. We can stop this."

I stood too, moving close enough to feel the heat radiating from her. "And what's in it for me, Ava? Besides getting your target on my back?"

She turned, her face inches from mine, her breath warm against my skin. "You get to keep your cartel intact. And maybe..." She hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Maybe you have to stop pretending you don't care."

She was too close. I wanted to step back, to rebuild the wall between us, but my body wouldn't move.

She's Zane's sister. She's Zane's sister.

The mantra did nothing to stop the way my hand twitched, itching to reach for her.

"Alright," I said finally, in a rough tone. "We do this. Together. But we keep it clean, Ava. No games."

Her lips curved into a deep, satisfied smile. "No games," she agreed, but her eyes said something else entirely.

We spent the next hour hashing out a plan, laying out how we would trace the leaks. I listened when she talked and threw in my own ideas, but half my brain was on her the entire time. The way her fingers tapped the desk when she got excited, the way her laugh slipped out when I cracked a dry joke about Nessa's ego. Every second with her was a tightrope walk, and I was losing my balance.

When we finished, she stood to leave, slinging her bag over her shoulder. I walked her to the door, my hand brushing hers as I reached for the handle. The contact sent a jolt through me, and I froze, my fingers lingering against hers longer than they should have. She didn't pull away.

"Damian," she said, "Thank you. For saying yes."

I swallowed, my throat tight. "Don't thank me yet. We're not out of the woods."

She smiled, a real one this time, the kind that made my chest ache. "I know. But I feel better with you in my corner."

I wanted to say something to keep her at arm's length, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I said, "You always knew how to get under my skin."

Her laugh was quiet, "And you always made it so easy."

She stepped closer, her hand brushing my arm, "We're going to be okay, right?" she asked.

I looked into her eyes, saw the flicker of vulnerability she rarely let show. My hand moved before I could stop it, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah," I said. "We'll be okay."

She held my gaze for a moment longer, then stepped back, breaking the spell. "See you soon, Damian."

As the door closed behind her, I leaned against it, my heart pounding. The cartel was under attack but all I could think about was Ava Sinclair. I was in deep, and I didn't know if I wanted to find a way out. I clearly do not.