Should I have just let that asshole hit me? No—he wouldn’t have stopped at just hitting me. Assholes like Frederik never do.
But still. Shit.
Why the hell did Roan leave that bar right after I did? More importantly, how long was he standing there in the shadows, watching me beat one of his men to a pulp?
I swallow, wincing at the dull ache left behind by Frederik’s kick as I lean down to wipe the window sill. Now he’s suspicious—more suspicious than before—and probably already got his investigator digging into me. A complication I definitely don’t need.
“Damn it.” My rag works furiously across the wood, frustration spilling out on nonexistent dust.
Once the surface gleams spotlessly, I move to the baby grand piano tucked in the corner of the study and carefully clean the keys and the shiny black rim.
The sting in my spine lingers, but I welcome the discomfort.It grounds me, keeps me from spiraling into worst-case scenarios while I methodically work through my cleaning routine.
“Mia.” Esma slips into the room, her gaze flicking over me. “Are you okay?”
I pause mid-polish, frowning. “Of course I’m okay.” But a sinking feeling settles in my stomach as I study her expression. “Areyouokay? Did something happen?”
“No, no. I’m fine.” Her hand flutters nervously. “It’s just that… well, I saw Frederik follow you out last night. And then R–Roan followed too.” She actually stutters over his name, like speaking it is forbidden.
“And?” I prompt, suspecting there’s more.
“Well, I heard from Gina who heard from Matteus that Frederik was taken to thefrigoriferlast night… and he hasn’t been seen since.”
“Oh.”
I’ve heard rumors about thefrigorifer—a freezer-like torture room I’ve passed several times during my covert explorations of the compound. It’s where traitors and rule-breakers are punished, some never to be seen again.
Damn it, what’s Roan planning to do with Frederik? Is he going to take credit for my handiwork? Or something even worse?
I tuck my cleaning cloth into my apron pocket, heart thudding as I recall the cold promise of violence in Roan’s eyes when he ordered Dhimitër to take Frederik there. I hope he delivers on that unspoken promise.
That creep deserves whatever he gets.
“Did–did Frederik hurt you?”
I sigh, gathering my scattered cleaning supplies. “He tried, but he didn’t get far.” I pause. “Is everyone talking about this? About Frederik?” Aboutme? That’s the last thing I fucking need right now.
“Well… no. I only connected the dots because I saw you leave last night.”
“Good.” Relief floods through me. “Can you keep it to yourself for now, Esma? Please?” I add when she hesitates, her loyalty clearly warring with her love of gossip. “I’m still new here and would hate to have a rumor attached to my name.”
She nods slowly, understanding dawning in her eyes. “I get what you mean. I won’t tell anyone.”
I smile at her gratefully. “Thank you. I owe you one, and I’ll—” The rest dies on my tongue when I notice a shadow darkening the doorway, my smile fading when I see who it is.
Roan.
The name alone is enough to send a shiver through me. My pulse kicks up hard as his sharp gaze flicks between Esma and me.
“M–Mr. Përmeti,” Esma squeaks, executing some awkward bow-curtsy hybrid before mumbling something about having work to do and practically fleeing the room.
Leaving me alone with him. Thanks, Esma.
Every nerve in my body sparks like live wire as his green eyes lock onto mine, a ghost of a smile curling at his mouth.What the hell is he doing here?And why does it feel like I’m already caught in the crosshairs before he’s even spoken?
“How are you this morning? It’s come to my knowledge that Frederik got a few hits in.”
A few hits.Right. Try one cheap shot from behind.
