“Not really, not until recently. My siblings and I just like to be prepared,” I explained, opening the file. “We’ve noticed some discrepancies. Operations that weren’t officially sanctioned. Money trails that didn’t add up. So we’re digging.”
I spread several documents across the coffee table, aware of how new this felt, how intimate—sharing intelligence with someone outside my circle of trust. Yet somehow, it felt right. Natural, even. I never once thought Shorty could be a threat or regarded her as an enemy. Sure, I was pissed to be a part of that dang kidnapping mission, but it was never about her personally.
“Grey’s running something on the side,” I continued. “Something big enough that he’s willing to risk exposure to erase the evidence.”
Isabella leaned forward, her analytical mind visibly engaging with the problem. “That trafficking thing, was that a Paraskia operation?”
The dress shirt gaped slightly at her neck, revealing the delicate line of her collarbone. I forced my gaze back to the documents. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.”
“So what is this Paraskia Syndicate all about? What’s his position, and why doesn’t he have access to the database?”
“One-sentence answer? The Paraskia had started as an alliance with the biggest crime organization in the world to maintain global stability and prevent large-scale conflicts.”
She scrunched her face and looked at me. “Sounds like a convenient catch-all.”
I shrugged. “It’s not. It’s more of an oversight committee that tries to keep everything in balance.”
“In balance—are you kidding me?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “You have to look at it globally.”
She did not look convinced at all, and I couldn’t fault her for that. “Then who is Grey?”
“He’s pretty high up, to be honest.”
“And you?”
I smiled. “Not as high up.”
She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow. “So why does he need access to the Paraskia database when he’s one of the higher-ups?”
I shrugged again. “Maybe he’s not high enough? Best guess? There’s either something in there he wants to know or something he wants erased.”
“And he needs me to access it,” she murmured, scanning the papers with practiced efficiency.
“Or maybe he’s just taking advantage of the situation.”
“Because by bringing me here, he had something to pressure Vince into coming?—”
“Which was the Paraskia’s goal and the actual official mission.”
The realization hit me suddenly—we were working together as if we’d been partners for years instead of adversaries for days. No professional distance whatsoever. And who was I kidding? Half an hour ago, I was naked in the bathtub with her. Professional distance? There hadn’t been any professional distance between us since the moment I tackled her to the ground.
I studied her profile as she concentrated on the documents, struck by the sharpness of her mind, the determination in her expression. “How smart are you?”
She looked up. “Not that smart.”
Now it was my place to call bullshit. “Your file tells a different story.”
“My file? What else does my file say?” she asked without looking up.
This was it. This was the moment to tell her the truth about our intertwined past? Was I ready to tell her? It wasn’t like she needed to know—not that it would change anything. On the contrary. My past, the things that had made me who I was today, weren’t pretty or remotely normal. I didn’t grow up with a family that loved me, unlike her. Would she even be able to comprehend? Could she even imagine what kind of monster those experiences had shaped me into?
And once she knew, would it change the way she looked at me?
Probably.
And she would be right. She deserved better. Deserved a man worthy of her.
