“It’s a spectacularly bad idea.”
I kiss her.
It’s not a sweet kiss. It’s a collision. It’s a claim. I kiss her like I can rewrite the history of this room with just my mouth. I kiss her until the taste of her is the only thing I know, until the hum of the server and the threat of the guards fades into white noise.
She pulls me closer, her hand sliding down my chest, brushing the waistband of my jeans. My breath hitches. I freeze, forehead dropping to her collarbone, fighting for a scrap of restraint.
“Tell me no,” I rasp. “And I stop.”
She doesn’t say no. She puts her hand on my stomach, a silent, searing brand.
“I’m not a distraction,” she whispers, the plea ragged. “Say it.”
I lift my head. Her eyes are wide, dark, searching. She thinks she’s the side effect of this war. She thinks she’s the collateral damage.
She doesn’t understand.
“You’re the only thing that makes any of this make sense,” I say, the truth tearing its way out of my throat. “You’re not a distraction, Talia. You’re the point.”
The realization hits me harder than the kiss. She is the point. Without her, this is just a rebellion for the sake of rebellion. With her, it’s a future.
I pull her flush against me, my hips bumping hers. The friction is electric. I want to take her right here, against the wall, amidst the wreckage of my father’s secrets. I want to ruin this room for him forever.
“Got it,” Genny’s voice slices through the haze.
The world snaps back into focus. Sharp. Cold. Dangerous.
I stiffen, forehead resting against Talia’s for one last, stolen second. “Later,” I promise. “I swear to God, later.”
We break apart. The loss of contact is physical pain. I step back, smoothing my shirt, turning toward the desk just as Genny starts closing windows.
“We’re at ninety-nine percent,” she says, voice tight. “Disconnecting. We need to move. Now.”
I step up behind her, eyes scanning the screen before it goes dark.
“Did you get it?” I ask.
“Everything. The rider. The archive.” She yanks the drive out. “And Declan… I saw an email. From Beatrice.”
My blood runs cold. “Beatrice?”
“She’s talking to him. About the coach. About ‘handling’ the situation.” Genny shoves the drive into her hoodie and stands up, face pale. “She’s not innocent in this. She’s feeding him ammo.”
The rage that spikes in my chest is different from the heat I felt a moment ago. It’s ice. Beatrice. My fiancée. The woman who smiles for the cameras and talks about wedding venues is conspiring to destroy a man’s career just to keep her merger on track.
“Go,” I order, shoving the feeling down. I can’t deal with that now. “Security will circle back any second.”
I check the door. Clear.
Genny slips out. Talia follows. She pauses, our shoulders brushing, and I check her face. She looks wrecked. Beautiful.
“You okay?”
“I just broke into your father’s office and almost let you talk me into round two behind the door,” she whispers, chin lifting. “I’m… better than okay.”
A dark, fierce pride curls in my chest. “That’s my girl.”
Footsteps. Heavy. Fast. Coming from the stairwell.
