“I’ll be interrogating them both at my villa.” Grey’s voice dropped, sending an involuntary chill down my spine. “Something I’ve been looking forward to for quite some time.”
My blood froze. His villa? Not one of the official interrogation rooms? “Is that smart?” I kept my voice even through sheer force of will.
“Iset has information we need.” Grey’s tone left no room for argument.
I turned away, ostensibly, to check the communications setup but actually to hide the rage that threatened to break through my carefully maintained façade.
This was not following procedure.
I’d seen Grey in action. He was the worst kind of predator—one who enjoyed breaking his victims slowly, meticulously.
The thought of him anywhere near the twins—near Shorty—made something primal and protective rise within me. But without the proper setup and the ethical framework—flimsy as it was—that the Paraskia established?
There was no way to tell how this would go. Especially not with someone as reckless as Shorty.
“The call is a courtesy,” Grey continued, oblivious to my internal struggle. “A chance for Salvini to see his sisters are unharmed before we proceed to more…productive measures.”
I nodded again, mind racing. Whatever Grey thought he knew about Isabella Salvini and Iset, bringing her and her sister into his villa for interrogation—unsupervised…
…Was not something that would happen. I needed to reassess, to gather more information, to prepare contingencies I hadn’t previously considered necessary—and I had zero time to do so.
Shit. And just like that, I was in the middle of it.
If I wanted to be or not.
I looked at a screen. The twins were already at the building. I watched the door open, and the two guards entered with the twins.
I made a beeline for the elevator and rode it up to meet them.
“Where are you taking us?” one of the twins asked just as the elevator doors opened, and I found myself toe to toe with Shorty.
My eyes immediately found hers—fierce, alert, calculating.
This was not the naked woman from last night, who fit perfectly into my arms, who was defiant and alluring, sexy and feisty all rolled into one delectable little package. Who I almost kissed.
Who was ready and willing to be kissed by me.
Fuck. I shoved down the memories and emotions that had kept me awake all night and put on my professional mask, something I’d mastered ages ago.
“This is our communications center,” I replied to answer the question I’d overheard.
“Your brother has demanded proof that you’re both alive and unharmed,” I explained, keeping my tone businesslike. I waited for her reaction, happy when I saw her mask slip, even if it was just a tiny blip.
“Your brother is very…what’s the word with a P,” I said with a half smirk.
“Persistent?” Shorty asked.
“A pain in the ass,” I replied, “but persistent works too.”
The doors opened to reveal the sleek, high-tech underground facility that was every nerd’s wettest dream.
Isabella moved with hesitation, eyes downcast, not really interested or excited.
While Shorty took in every detail of the communications center in seconds, her gaze lingered on the security monitors, the equipment, and the guards’ positions—not the behavior of someone unfamiliar with tactical assessment. When we passed the glass front of our server room, she slowed down and almost started salivating. But when we passed the glass wall of our quantum computing research lab, she froze completely and stared at the large cylindrical object, gaping like a fish out of water.
Somebody with no computer knowledge—like her sister—wouldn’t even know what they were looking at. But clearly, Shorty did.
“Impressive,” she murmured before she caught herself.
