21:13 – She bolts.
I scrub forward to the alley cam. It’s only a partial angle and low quality. I can barely make out the edge of her ponytail as she runs. Blonde. Slender. Fast. Mask still on.
But it’s the way she moves that gets me. Like she’s done this before. Like she’s been trained. Who the hell would send an assassin for me? And a gorgeous one at that…
I’ve gotten hard over some fucked-up things before, but a masked assassin straddling me? That’s a new one. Still, I couldn’t deny the heat that had raced to my stupid cock.
And there’s no doubt in my mind that she felt it. She must have. That’s when she bolted. Only the disgust I expected to see wasn’t there.
Then there was that moment. Thathesitation. She could’ve killed me when she first walked into my office and caught me by surprise. She should have. But she didn’t. Why?
And that’s what keeps fucking with me.
I rewind again to the second she points the gun at my chest. My reaction time was fast, faster than hers. But even before that, there was a flicker. A pause in her eyes. Blue and cold. But there’s something else too.
And then there was the way she said my name.
The voice. The accent, the faint Irish lilt. Like she was trying to hide it, but it seeped out all the same.
That hits somewhere I don’t want to admit. My gut clenches, no, it’s too high to be my stomach. That knot hits higher up in my chest, somewhere it has no right to be. I can’t remember the last time a woman affected me like that. Let alone one holding a gun to my head.
A soft knock breaks through my spiraling thoughts and the quiet buzz of the security feed.
“Matteo?” Rory’s voice filters through first, cautious. “What are you still doing here at this hour?”
I pause the video and turn my head as the office door creaks open. She steps in, wearing a baggy hoodie that’s probably Ale’s, and her green eyes go straight to the screen.
Alessandro follows in behind her, shirt unbuttoned at the collar and scars on full display. Something he never would have been comfortable with before Rory came into his life. Clearly neither of them were in attendance at the club tonight or they would have heard the commotion. They must have stopped by for something else. They both eye me suspiciously when they see me hunched over the desk, half-crazed with obsession.
“Merda,” Ale mutters. “You trying to give the cameras a nervous breakdown?” Then his gaze settles on the grainy image on the screen.
“What the feck happened here?” Rory blurts, her Irish lilt the complete opposite of subtle as she takes in the spray of plaster across the floor. “You have a female stalker on your hands, Matty?” Her tone is light, but there’s a note of unease in her voice.
I rub my face with both hands, leaning back in the chair. “Not a stalker. She was armed. She pulled a gun on me, right here, in my office a few hours ago. Walked right through the front doors of the Velvet Vault.”
Ale arches a brow. “And you’re just telling us now?”
“I handled it,” I mutter. “There was no point in bothering the happy newlyweds.” Damn, was that bitterness in my tone?
“Right. Obviously.” He crosses his arms, then unfolds them and laces one around Rory’s shoulders. “What did you do, flirt her into submission?”
“Almost. I got the drop on her and was able to disarm her before her shot hit true. But then she ran.”
“Throughmynightclub?” he growls. “Cazzo, I do not need this sort of bad publicity right now.”
“Relax, she ducked out the back door. None of your VIP clientele were in any danger. She knew the layout of this place. This was planned…”
Rory takes a slow step forward, frowning at the paused footage on the screen. “Do you know who she is?”
“No.” I hesitate. “Not yet.”
Alessandro narrows his eyes as he regards me. “But you think you’ve seen her before?” Nothing gets by my cousin. He knows me too well.
“I think…” I exhale, frustrated. “I think I know her. Or I did. Something about her—her voice, the way she moved. There was a… I don’t know. A pull. A familiarity I can’t shake. Plus, she was pretty damned adamant I should’ve remembered her.”
Rory leans in. “What kind of voice?”
I meet her eyes. “Irish. Soft lilt. Controlled, but it was there.”
