“Why did you help me against Grey?” she finally asked, her voice soft but direct. “Because you can say what youwant, but you helped keep him at a distance. You warned me against him. Why did you do that when he’s your boss? Why do something like this?”
The question hung in the steamy air between us, weighted with implications. What should I tell her? Why indeed? Because Grey’s behavior wasn’t right? Because it was my duty to protect her as an asset? Or because of something far more dangerous—something I wasn’t ready to acknowledge?
“It was the right thing to do,” I said carefully, starting with the safest explanation. “Grey crossed a line. Using experimental drugs on you, risking your life—that’s not how the Paraskia operates.”
She shifted in my arms, raised her head to face me. Her dark eyes were sharp, cutting through my bullshit with surgical precision. “But that was after… You were protective of Mira and me way before that,” she said, with a challenge in her eyes and a clear promise she wouldn’t let me off the hook with some superficial answer. “Tell me the truth. I need to know who you really are before I can decide if I trust you.”
I almost laughed. Trust. Such a simple word for something I’d never truly given or received outside my siblings. Trust meant vulnerability. Vulnerability meant weakness. And weakness got you killed in my world.
And yet here we were, naked in a bathtub. Did it get more vulnerable than this?
“You don’t know if you trust me, and yet you would have had sex with me just a moment ago,” I pointed out.
She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Sex and trust aren’t the same thing.”
“They should be.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, surprising us both. I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure. What the fuck was wrong with me? I’d never once in my life thought trust had anything to do with sex. When did I turn into a sentimental fool?
And Shorty knew it, too. She cocked her head and stared at me without uttering another word.
“Grey’s behavior has been…erratic lately,” I said. “He’s been taking unnecessary risks and following his own agenda. I’m not ready to risk our exit by not being critical of him and his actions.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Your exit?”
Should I really tell her? Did I actually trust her enough to tell her?
“We’ve served long enough. Paid our debt. We’re starting our own thing—a fresh start, clean slate, no strings attached.” I paused, weighing how much to reveal. “Grey’s obsession with getting his hands on you was definitely a red flag. He’s ready to go against the organization just to get you.”
“I noticed,” she said dryly.
“Whatever his obsession with you, it’s both professional and personal,” I continued. “He needs your skills for something very specific. How good a hacker are you really?”
She hesitated, watching my reaction carefully. “Better than most,” she admitted finally. “I’ve gotten into some systems that were supposed to be impenetrable.”
“And Grey wanted you to hack into the Paraskia’s database,” I mused. “Which means there’s areas of that database he can’t access himself. Did he say what he wanted you to do?”
She sighed.
Having no clear memories around this must suck. I gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “He didn’t hold you all that long, so I think the chances of you having succeeded are minimal. Also, you had a bad reaction to the drugs; I don’t think you were physically able to hack into anything.”
She shivered slightly. Was it because of the topic or the water that had grown cool around us? Anyway, it was time to move.
“We should get out before you catch a chill.”
I helped her from the tub, wrapped her in a thick towel, and grabbed one for myself. We moved to the bedroom where I found gym shorts that almost reached her calves, one of my shirts, and a hoodie, and handed them to her. She slipped them on while I turned away to give her privacy, using the moment to put on dry clothes myself. “You should rest,” I suggested, nodding toward the bed.
She shook her head, clutching my dress shirt tighter around her small frame.
She looked fucking adorable in my too-big clothes. Adorable and sexy.
“I’ve been unconscious long enough. I want to know what’s going on,” she said.
Her stubbornness shouldn’t have been endearing, but somehow, it was. I grabbed my phone, making a quick call to Mila to arrange for more fitting clothes for Isabella, then gestured toward the sofa.
“Then let’s talk.”
She settled on one end while I retrieved the file from the coffee table and handed it to her. The folder was thick with papers—surveillance photos, financial records, notes from conversations my siblings and I’d had with contacts throughout the organization. All centered on Grey.
“You’ve been investigating him,” she observed as I sat beside her, close enough to feel her warmth but not touching.
