She’d been stunning in the ballroom, stealing several men’s attention the moment she stepped onto that landing. A delicate bloom among a vine of thorns. He hadn’t intended to dance tonight, but when he saw Hadrian, the biggest prick of all, groping her before the games had even begun, he had to step in.
1922.
There was an ethereal beauty about her. Soft voice, glasslike skin. Fragile, but resilient. Measured and temperate, especially for a girl her age.
What exactly was her goal? Her strategy? Had she circled back to the house on purpose?
Flipping his phone face down on the table, he went to pour a drink but never made it to the bar. Instead, he searched the files Nick had left him, pulling out file 1922.
Daisy Burdan.
The name sank into him like a stone settles into still water, the words rippling with memories of when he last read her paperwork. More details had been added since then. Private details.
“Daisy,” he whispered, his lips twitching into some fragment of a smile that faded before it formed.
He flipped to the application photo that showed her face exactly as he remembered, the only one where her eyes weren’t blacked out for anonymity.
He was breaking his own rules.
Skimming over the most up-to-date reports, he stilled when he read the summary from her medical screening. Level II Virgin.
“No wonder Hadrian was sniffing her out.”
His finger stilled over the paperclip pressing through the page. Knowing what he would find and giving himself the chance to do the right thing and put the file back.
Jack turned the page.
The stark expression on her face showed anger. Which doctor had done her exam?
“Ah.” Dr. Tannhäuser.
His gaze lowered to her pale, pink nipples, but her ribs distracted him. Thin. No less beautiful, but it was clear that her build was a consequence of her situation, not a choice based on any beauty standard.
Jack shut the file, angry not just with her appearance but with his lack of discipline. The tributes deserved their dignity. They deserved at least the semblance of privacy.
“You shouldn’t have looked,” he growled, tossing the file onto the table so it was out of reach. But he wasn’t done.
Picking up his phone, he pulled up the historical footage, scrolling back further this time, until he found her encounter with Peter Pangbourne.
Jack’s jaw tightened as he slowed down the recording. Still lying to himself as if he needed to review the footage for protocol compliance, when he damn well knew Cole’s team already had. But who the fuck did he have to answer to?
Jack rewound the encounter to the beginning, when Peter snuck up on her in the labyrinth. The footage started innocuously enough—Peter prancing out from behind a statue, bowing with theatrical flourish. Jack looked away to roll his eyes.
“Idiot.”
When he rolled through the feed, Daisy backed away. The two of them moved through the gardens, Peter following at a lazy, playful pace as she spoke to him, and Jack frowned.
Why wasn’t she running?
When they reached one of the cabanas, she tore down the curtains, ripping the fabric into strips to wrap her battered feet. He had the strangest urge to plant shoes in her path, but that would be completely out of line. She could find supplies at the safe zones like everyone else.
As she sat on the ground, Pangbourne moved closer. Her demeanor hardened instantly. Her expression tightened like a fist, severe and firm as she said something to him. Pangbourne stepped back and…
“She’s figuring him out.” He chuckled. “Playing him.”
She was a quick study.
Jack could see how a man-child like Pangbourne would respond to a firm, maternal tone. And it surprised him to see her activate such a side of herself so swiftly, switching from soft to stern as flawlessly as a ballerina pivots.
