He stands by the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantle, his eyes fixed on me as if he knew exactly when I’d appear.
“Miss Valeur,” he says, his voice cutting through the silence. “This is Enzo, your new bodyguard.”
I hadn’t noticed the other man at first, but now my gaze shifts to the mountain of muscle standing by the door. Enzo ismassive, his face an unreadable mask behind dark glasses. I can’t see his eyes, and that makes my stomach twist. After what happened with Josh, how can I ever trust another bodyguard? How can I trust anyone?
“He’s my employee,” Zane continues, answering the question I didn’t voice. “And I can assure you he’s been thoroughly vetted.”
I nod, not convinced but too exhausted to argue. “Any news about Ryder?” The question comes out more desperate than I intended.
Zane’s features soften a fraction. “Not yet. But no news is good news in these cases.”
I cling to that thread of hope.
“I need to update you,” Zane continues, tone shifting to cool efficiency. He moves toward the pool area. I follow, my feet like lead weights. He leads me outside, sliding the door shut.
I glance inside at Enzo, who’s watching us from within.
“What’s this about?” I ask, wrapping my arms around myself. The night air is cool, raising goosebumps on my skin.
I lean against the cool glass of the sliding door, my reflection a ghostly echo in the dark night beyond. The weight of everything—the attack, Ryder’s condition—presses down on me, threatening to crush what little strength I have left.
“When you were in Hawaii, Ryder sent me some photos for facial recognition,” Zane begins, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. “The request got buried by mistake, but I expedited the results as soon as I found out.”
Confusion slices through my exhaustion. “Facial recognition? Of who? Ryder never mentioned this.”
“A man named Ronald Reynolds,” He holds out his phone, and I force myself to focus on the image displayed.
The face staring back at me is unremarkable at first glance—short black hair, sharp features, a well-tailored suit. But there’s something in his eyes, a coldness that makes my skin crawl. I shake my head, pushing away the unsettling feeling. “I don’t remember seeing him at the wedding. Who is he?”
“He works for Elite Elegance,” Zane replies, his gaze boring into mine.
The name hits me like a punch to the gut. “Elite Elegance? That’s... That’s Richard Stone’s company.” My voice wavers as the implications sink in.
Zane nods. “Your competitor. The one always trying to steal your clients. Correct?”
I nod, my mind racing. “But hiring someone to spy on me? That’s crossing a line, even for Stone.”
“It gets worse,” Zane says. “Reynolds isn’t just some corporate spy. He has a violent criminal record. Armed robbery. He killed a man during a job gone wrong.”
The room seems to tilt around me, and I grip the edge of a nearby chair to steady myself. “Stone hired a killer to watch me?”
“It appears so,” Zane confirms. “And now we’re investigating whether he went even further.”
My eyes snap to his. “What do you mean?”
“We’re looking into the possibility that Richard Stone also hired Josh—or whoever that man really was—to kidnap you.”
“No,” I shake my head, even as doubt creeps in. “Stone’s done some underhanded things, but kidnapping? That’s too far.”
“Is it?” Zane challenges. “He’s already shown he’s willing to associate with violent criminals. It’s not a huge leap to think he might escalate further.”
I open my mouth to argue, then close it. The certainty I felta moment ago crumbles like sand. “I... I don’t know,” I admit. “I never thought he’d hire someone like Reynolds.”
Zane nods, a flash of sympathy crossing his face. “Exactly. We can’t rule anything out at this point.”
“So, if we suspect Stone, why can’t the police just arrest him?” I ask, desperation creeping into my voice. “End this nightmare?”
“It’s not that simple. We need concrete evidence. And your father?—”
