She’s trying to maintain professional distance, but I catch her stealing glances when she thinks I’m not looking. The way her breath catches slightly when I lean close to point out somethingon her screen. The flush that spreads across her neck when our shoulders touch.
Whatever’s happening between us, she feels it too.
“Here,” she says suddenly, highlighting a section of code. “This is interesting.”
I lean in to examine her discovery, close enough that my breath stirs the hair at her temple. She freezes for a fraction of a second before continuing.
“The authorization signature isn’t just administrative,” she explains, voice carefully steady. “It’s dual-authenticated. Requires two separate approvals for any transaction over a certain threshold.”
“How high a threshold?”
“Five million.”
I whistle low. “Someone’s been planning this for a while. You don’t set up dual authentication overnight.”
“And you don’t get two board-level approvals without serious coordination.” She turns to face me, and suddenly we’re inches apart, her gray eyes wide and focused. “Rafa, I think we’re dealing with a conspiracy, not just one person.”
The revelation should be shocking, but I can only think about how close she is to me. How her lips are slightly parted, how the soft light makes her skin glow, how badly I want to close the distance between us and?—
She turns back to the screen abruptly, breaking the moment. “We need to identify the second signatory.”
Right. The investigation. The reason I’m supposedly here.
Except I’m beginning to suspect that’s not the real reason.
I came here tonight ostensibly to collaborate on our shared problem. Still, as I watch Kira work, taking note of the elegant efficiency of her movements, the brilliant leaps her mind makes through complex data, and the unconscious grace withwhich she navigates the digital landscape, I realize something unsettling. I came here because I needed her.
Not for strategic reasons or investigative purposes, but because something fundamental shifted during our conversation at the summit. The moment she admitted she was trying to protect me, even as she struggled with the decision to trust me.
I’ve spent years maintaining careful emotional distance from everyone around me. It’s a survival instinct in families like ours. Attachment is vulnerability, and vulnerability is perceived as death. But Kira has somehow slipped past every defense I’ve constructed. My walls aren’t as thick as I thought.
“The second signature,” she continues, oblivious to my internal revelation, “has to be someone with equivalent access to my father. That’s basically just?—”
“Alexei,” I finish, observing her face.
She nods reluctantly. “Alexei.”
“The brother who warned you to stop investigating.”
“The brother who’s been acting strangely whenever this subject comes up.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, staring at the screen without really seeing it. “Alexei isn’t malicious,” she says finally. “Whatever he’s involved in, there’s a reason. Probably one he thinks is protecting the family.”
“Or protecting you.”
She looks at me sharply. “What do you mean?”
“You said he gets into people’s heads. Manipulates. What if he’s manipulating Alexei? Using him to access the accounts while making it look like your family is betraying mine?”
“To what end?”
“War,” I say simply. “Nothing would benefit our enemy more than watching our families destroy each other.”
The possibility settles between us, and it is heavy with implications. If he is playing both sides—using Alexei to steal while framing me for the thefts—then every move we make could be precisely what he wants.
“We need more information about this man’s history with my family. About what kind of leverage he might have over Alexei.” Kira says, finally.
“That means confronting your brother directly.”
