“For me.” I meet his eyes again. “Maybe for anyone who gets too close to the truth.”
The implications hang between us. If this ghost from my family’s past is working with someone inside my organization—someone high up enough to make my father ignore millions in losses—the conspiracy runs deeper than either of us initially thought.
“We’re running out of time,” Rafa says, checking his watch. “The loop will end in thirty seconds.”
“What are you going to tell Vito?”
“Nothing yet.” His decision surprises me. “Not until we know more. Not until we can be sure of who’s really behind this.”
“We?”
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “Unless you’d prefer to handle a dangerous Russian hacker with high-level Bratva connections on your own?”
Despite everything, I feel an answering smile tug at my lips. “I’ve handled worse.”
“I’m sure you have.” His expression turns serious again. “But you don’t have to handle this alone, Petrov. Whatever game he’s playing, he’s using both of us as pawns.”
For a moment, we simply look at each other, the air between us charged with something more complicated than attraction or suspicion. Recognition, perhaps. Of finding an equal in the most unexpected place.
“We should get back,” I say finally.
He nods, stepping back to give me space. As we move toward the door, his hand brushes mine—another seemingly accidental touch that sends an electric current up my arm.
“Petrov.” He pauses, his voice softening. “Why didn’t you tell me about this ghost before?”
The truth slips out before I can stop it. “Because I didn’t want you involved. He’s dangerous—not just physically, but… he gets into your head. Manipulates. Destroys. And the less you know his name, the safer you are.”
Rafa studies me with renewed intensity. “You’re trying to protect me.”
It’s not a question, and the realization startles me as much as it seems to surprise him. Iamtrying to protect him, though I can’t articulate why—even to myself.
“I’m trying to protect my interests,” I correct, retreating to safer ground. “If he targets you because of me, it complicates my position.”
He doesn’t believe me—I can see it in his eyes—but he lets it pass. “Whatever you say, Petrov.”
We return to the ballroom separately, with me going first and him following, calculated to be two minutes later. No one appears to have noticed our absence except Nicolai, who raises an eyebrow fractionally as I take my position at the presentation screen.
The technical team signals readiness. I begin the presentation with practiced ease, my voice steady as I outline the proposed integration of our cybersecurity protocols. Rafa joinsseamlessly when it’s his turn, his portion dovetailing with mine as if we’d designed them together.
On the surface, we appear to be the perfect professional partnership, but underneath , a storm of unspoken questions and unsettled truths.
Throughout the presentation, I’m acutely aware of his proximity. The way he moves, the timbre of his voice, and the controlled strength in his hands as he manipulates the digital display. The memory of his lips against mine at the dinner flashes unbidden through my mind, sending heat blooming across my skin.
What is happening to me?
In twenty-seven years, I’ve never allowed a man to distract me this way. I’ve kept myself carefully isolated, using my intelligence and position as shields against unwanted attention. My virtue is not a prize to be claimed but a choice—a manifestation of my refusal to surrender control over any aspect of myself.
Yet when Rafa’s hand accidentally brushes mine during the presentation, I find myself imagining those hands elsewhere. His mouth on mine again, then moving lower. His body pressed against mine without the pretense of performance.
The intensity of these thoughts is startling, almost frightening. This is not love—I know enough to recognize that. This is something more primal, more dangerous—a hunger I’ve never acknowledged before.
I force myself back to the present, to the presentation, to the calculated lies we’re both telling our families about cooperation and trust.
He is supposed to be my enemy. A means to an end. A convenient alliance that serves my goal of escaping the Bratva’s chains.
So why does the thought of using him feel suddenly hollow?
As we conclude the presentation to murmurs of approval from both families, I catch Rafa watching me with an expression I can’t decipher. Not desire, though that’s there too, simmering beneath the surface. Something more... contemplative. As if he’s solving a puzzle I didn’t know I’d presented.
