“You have no right—” I start, my voice rising with disbelief and outrage.
“No?” He cuts me off, stepping even closer. His breath ghosts across my face as he growls, “Look around, Eve. You’re out of options. Your father wants you dead, your investigation’s a death sentence, and you don’t have the resources to survive on your own.”
His dark eyes bore into mine, the weight of his dominance pressing down like a physical force. The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken threats and promises. Then, as if I’m beneath his notice, Remy turns sharply and strides from the kitchen. His footsteps echo through the penthouse, each one hammering home the finality of his declaration.
I stand frozen, my palms pressed against the cold marble counter. The silence after Remy’s departure rings in my ears, but my pulse still thunders with rage and something darker—fear.
His words echo through my mind: “Whether you like it or not, I’m in control now.” The arrogance, the absolute certainty in his voice makes my stomach turn. I’ve spent my entire life fighting against men who thought they could control me, starting with my father. Now I’m trapped between them both.
My gaze falls to the folder, its pristine pages mocking everything I’ve sacrificed. Roberto’s face flashes in my mind—his final moments spent protecting me and believing in our mission. And here sits Remy’s solution: surrender everything, become a ghost, and let my father continue unchecked.
My fingers tremble as I grip the counter harder. The weight of my situation crashes over me like a wave. No allies left. No safeharbor. My father’s reach extends through Chicago’s darkest corners, and now Remy…
God, Remy. I was a fool to think I could trust him, to believe his protection wouldn’t come with chains. I’ve seen that look in his eyes before—that consuming need to possess, to control. But this time, it focuses on me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl.
I push away from the counter, my breath coming in short gasps. The penthouse suddenly feels like a gilded cage, every luxury a reminder of my captivity. The cameras watching my every move, the security system designed to keep others out now serves to keep me in.
Staying here isn’t an option. Not anymore. Not with Remy’s obsession turning dangerous, not with his determination to dismantle everything I’ve fought for. I need to get out now before he can implement his plans and force me into submission.
My hand brushes the damning folder, and I shove it aside with disgust. First things first: I need an escape plan. And this time, I have to do it alone. No more trusted allies, no more asking for help. I’ve learned that lesson too well.
This ends with me.
Chapter 17
I watch Liv through the security feeds, my jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. The main monitor shows her perched on the edge of my leather sofa, every movement measured and controlled. Too controlled.
“She hasn’t moved from that spot in twenty minutes,” Marcus says from his station, fingers tapping across his keyboard.
I lean closer to the screen, studying her face for any crack in that perfect mask she’s wearing. The designer dress and careful makeup feel like armor—another way to keep me at arm’s length. My hands curl into fists at my sides.
“The blind spots?” I ask, though I already know the answer. Liv had systematically destroyed every camera in her designated space within days of arriving. Just like she’d dismantled my carefully constructed plans at every turn.
“Nothing since the last visual check-up after she destroyed the cameras. But she knows where every working camera is positioned.” Marcus gestures to the feed where Eve’s gaze driftsdeliberately to the corner mount near the kitchen. “She’s making a point of it.”
The observation sends a fresh wave of frustration through me. Even now, trapped in my penthouse with a price on her head, she refuses to yield. To acknowledge that my protection is the only thing keeping her breathing.
My eyes narrow as she shifts, her attention fixing briefly on the imported rug beneath my coffee table. The movement seems casual, but there’s intent behind it. Just like the way she keeps glancing at the elevator doors.
“She’s planning something.” The words come out as a growl.
The darker part of me, the part that wants to lock her away where nothing can touch her, rises to the surface. If she won’t protect herself, I’ll do it for her. Even if it means becoming the very thing she’s fighting against.
“Sir?” Marcus’s voice pulls me back from the edge of those possessive thoughts.
I force my breathing to slow, but I can’t tear my eyes from her image on the screen. The calm she projects feels wrong—like pressure building before a storm breaks. Every instinct I’ve honed over the years in this business screams that she’s three moves ahead of me.
“Increase surveillance on the emergency exits,” I order.
I freeze as Eve’s head turns, her eyes meeting the camera directly. The challenge in her gaze hits like a physical blow.
I slam my palm against the steel desk, the sharp crack echoing through the security office. “She’s going to get herself killed.”
Marcus doesn’t flinch, his eyes fixed on the monitors. Good man. Eight years of working together taught him when to weather my storms.
I drag a hand down my face, pacing the cramped space between workstations. The metallic taste of fury coats mytongue. “Liv would rather die than let anyone protect her. Especially me.”
“Then let her make that choice.”
