"Yes."
"Unusual name."
"Short for Jackson. I prefer the abbreviation."
"Control," she says, and something in her expression shifts. "You like having control over how people address you."
It's an observation that cuts too close to truth. "I like clarity. Abbreviations are clearer."
"Are they?" Her lips curve into that same small smile from earlier. "Or do they just create the illusion of simplicity while hiding complexity?"
Before I can answer—before I can figure out how to answer without revealing that she's just described exactly what I've been doing for two years—the art dealer interrupts. Wants Lana's opinion on a piece she's considering for acquisition. She excuses herself with a polite nod, leaves me standing there holding a bottle of champagne like an idiot.
Lucien appears beside me. "Interesting conversation."
"Brief conversation."
"She's drawn to you. Did you notice?" He doesn't wait for confirmation. "The way she looks at you—it's different from how she looks at everyone else. Less performed. More genuine."
"She's being polite."
"Lana Pope doesn't do polite. She does careful. There's a difference." He takes the champagne bottle from my hand, sets it on a nearby table. "After dinner, I'd like you to give her a tour of the building's security. Show her the panic room on this floor, explain the protocols. Frame it as concern for her safety."
"Why?"
"Because she needs to trust someone who isn't me. And because you need to interact with her as a person, not a surveillance subject." His tone sharpens slightly. "You've been watching her for two weeks. Now I'm asking you to actually talk to her. Think you can manage that?"
It's another test. Everything is a test with Lucien.
"When?" I ask.
"After dessert. Around 10 PM. I'll suggest it naturally—concerned host ensuring his guest feels secure. You'll take itfrom there." He pauses. "And Jax? This isn't surveillance. This is conversation. Try to remember the difference."
He walks away before I can respond and rejoins his guests with the ease of someone who's never doubted his place in any room.
I retreat to my position near the windows. I watch Lana continue her role as a recovering widow for people who are really just pretending to be concerned. The dinner itself happens in the formal dining room—a space I helped design the security for, all reinforced glass and strategic sightlines. I'm not expected to join them, which is relief and disappointment in equal measure.
Instead, I spend ninety minutes in the living area, monitoring building security feeds on my phone, responding to routine check-ins from The Dominion's night staff, and absolutely not thinking about how Lana Pope's perfume smells like something I want to memorize.
At 9:58, I hear laughter from the dining room. Dinner is ending. Guests will migrate back to the living area for coffee and whatever final networking Lucien has planned. Then I'll have my assignment: show Lana the panic room, explain security protocols, have an actual conversation instead of just watching her through cameras.
The prospect terrifies me more than any protection detail I've ever worked.
The guests emerge in clusters. The venture capitalist is already making exit noises—early morning meeting, long drive, the usual excuses. The married couple lingers near Lucien, clearly hoping for a private word. The art dealer has cornered someone else, still networking even at 10 PM.
And Lana is standing alone near the windows, looking down at the city with an expression I recognize from surveillancefootage. Exhaustion. The night of putting on an act is wearing her down.
This is my moment. Lucien is occupied, the other guests are distracted, and she's isolated in a way that makes approaching her seem natural instead of calculated.
I cross the room. Stop beside her at a distance that's professional but not distant. "The view is better from the panic room."
She turns, surprised. "I'm sorry?"
"The panic room. It's on the north side of the penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows but with reinforced glass that can withstand small arms fire. Lucien had it designed when he renovated." I gesture toward the hallway. "He mentioned you might want to see the security features. In case you ever need to use them."
Her expression does something complicated. "In case I need to hide in a bulletproof room in Lucien Armitage's penthouse."
"In case you need options." I keep my voice even. "Security is about having choices before you need them."
