She proceeds with her work, her movements quick, while I check my phone.
Noah Bennett
You good?
I don’t type a reply.I don’t type anything inside a building I haven’t swept.Even if Adrien thinks the system is closed loop, signals bleed.He should be in transit anyway, as we’re off this weekend.
Noah’s inquisitive, because he’s perceptive, and he read my reactions in the meeting earlier today.When I call him, I’ll explain.But how will I explain what I’m doing here now?I can’t turn on the lights and examine the security system.It won’t be believable to any employee that Adrien is giving an unfettered tour of the premises to his lady friend.
I’ve given him my explanation, and he’s given me his, and on Monday I’ll work with the team to determine if he has an employee selling secrets or if we’re dealing with a clever hacker.He says his security system is closed loop, and perhaps he believes it is, but do I?No, because I guarantee you he’s wired to reach emergency services, and if there’s a way out, there’s a way in.
Unlike the men, Serene’s provocative outfit fits like a tasteful glove, highlighting her curves in a satin-like shimmer.The crystal catches the light, refracting rainbows across the bar top, and suddenly I’m back on his yacht, champagne flutes dry as the sun rises over the Mediterranean.
The horizon had started to blush with the faintest hint of dawn, painting the sky in watercolor pastels.We’d talked through the entire night, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this present in a moment.
“The sun’s coming up,” I murmured, suddenly aware that daylight meant consequences, meant returning to shore, meant the end of this borrowed pause.
“I see it.”But he wasn’t looking at the sunrise.His gaze remained fixed on my face, studying me like I was art worthy of memorization.“Sophia…”
“Sophie,” I corrected automatically, then caught myself.Even my cover name felt like a lie between us and I didn’t want it there, but such was life.
“Sophie,” he repeated, sounding it like a question.His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my bottom lip with reverent softness.“I don’t want this night to end.”
Neither did I.That was the precarious truth of it—for the first time in years, I didn’t want to return to my real life.I wanted to stay suspended in this moment, on this yacht, with this man who saw past all my careful constructs to something I’d forgotten existed.
“It has to,” I whispered, but I didn’t pull away from his touch.
“Does it?”
The first rays of sun gilded his skin, and for a moment I couldn’t tell if the heat came from the light or from him.
When he leaned forward, I met him halfway.
I should have pulled back, but something about the way he said my name felt real, and I wanted real more than I wanted safe.
His kiss was nothing like the practiced seduction I’d expected from a wealthy playboy.It was tentative at first, questioning, waiting for my permission.
He kissed me like a man testing a theory—and proved it true.
When I gave in—hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer—he responded with a hunger that matched my own.He kissed like a man with years of practice, but he treated me like I was a precious gem, perhaps the first he’d ever valued.Heat pooled low in my belly, my body recognizing something my mind wasn’t ready to name.
When we finally broke apart, the sun had fully risen, casting diamonds across the water.The spell should have been broken by daylight, but it only felt stronger, more real.
“Stay with me for the weekend,” he said, forehead resting against mine.“Come with me to my bedroom.Let’s rest.Wake.Have breakfast at sea.If you don’t have to go back, let’s not.”
I should have said no.Every instinct I’d honed directed me to end this now, to say I had to return to shore, that work called.But when I looked into his eyes—those eyes, more green and gold than blue in the daylight, that had listened to my truths without judgment but also shared unexpected common ground—I found myself nodding.The word that would change everything hovered on my lips.
“Yes,” I whispered, and meant it completely.
He kissed me, and the woman who never broke cover vanished beneath the rising sun.
“Brie?”Adrien pulls me from the memory.He’s carrying a leather portfolio—the only nod to work—while his eyes glint with interest, and I’m the thing catching it.For a disorienting heartbeat, I’m still on that yacht, still tasting sunrise and bad decisions.Then reality snaps back: the bar, the club, the professional distance I should never have let slip in the first place.
“Sorry about that.”He slides onto the barstool beside me, while discreetly dropping a USB drive in my bag, which I can only assume contains the employee records we asked for.He’s close enough that I catch his cologne—expensive, subtle—undesirably familiar.“Now, where were we?”
“We were finishing up.”I stand, needing distance.“This has been educational, but I should head back.”
“Educational?”he repeats, amused disbelief softening the edge.“That’s the most clinical description of The Sanctuary I’ve ever heard.”
