Dom looked down at her. Her face was tilted up toward his, the moonlight turning her eyes to silver.
“I miss who I was before Istanbul,” she said. “But I don’t want to be that person again. She was reckless. Selfish. She didn’t know what it cost to lose someone.”
“And now?”
“Now I know exactly what it costs,” she said. “And I’m still deciding if it’s worth paying again.”
He understood what she was saying. What she was offering—not forgiveness, not yet, but possibility. A door left open, just a crack.
“I’m freezing,” she said after a moment. “Come back to bed.”
She held out her hand. Dom took it, her fingers warm against his palm, and let her lead him away from the window, back through the darkness to the bed they’d been sharing without touching.
This time when they slid beneath the sheets, she didn’t turn away. She moved closer, fitting herself against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her arm across his chest. He held his breath, afraid to break whatever spell had fallen over them.Then, slowly, he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her closer.
She felt right there. Like she’d always belonged.
“This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you,” she whispered against his skin.
“I know,” he said.
“And it doesn’t mean we’re back together.”
“I know that too.”
She was quiet for a long moment. He thought she might have fallen asleep, but then she spoke again, her voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it.
“But I’m tired of pretending I don’t still care what happens to you.”
Dom tightened his arm around her, afraid to speak, afraid to move, afraid to do anything that might shatter this fragile peace between them. Instead, he pressed his lips to the top of her head, breathed in the scent of her hair, and let the weight of her against him anchor him to the moment.
fifteen
Vivi wokewith Dom’s arm still around her waist, his breath warm against the back of her neck. For one disoriented moment, she let herself sink into the familiar comfort of his body curved around hers. Then reality crashed in—Sabin’s broken fingers, Praetorian’s threats, today’s mission—and she slid from beneath Dom’s arm with practiced care. The gentle intimacy of last night had no place in what came next. Today wasn’t about feelings or forgiveness. Today was about the vault.
She showered quickly, letting the scalding water wash away the remnants of sleep and vulnerability. By the time she emerged, wrapped in a plush white towel, Dom was up and checking his equipment one last time—the miniaturized tools, the communications devices disguised as ordinary jewelry, the small explosives that looked like breath mints.
“Morning.” His voice was neutral, professional, but his eyes lingered on her bare shoulders a beat too long.
“We need to be ready in twenty,” she said, moving past him to the closet where her clothes hung in perfect order. She selected a cream linen dress—tasteful, expensive, the kind ofthing that belonged at a high-end resort. The kind of thing that would draw exactly zero suspicious glances.
Dom nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. She dressed methodically, sliding into silk underwear and arranging herself in the dress with practiced precision. She applied minimal makeup, just enough to look polished but not enough to register as trying too hard. Her hair she left loose around her shoulders—casual but elegant. Last came the jewelry: diamond studs, a thin gold bracelet with a clasp that could double as a lock pick, and a delicate necklace with a pendant that concealed a powerful signal disruptor.
By the time Dom emerged, she was already seated at the vanity, running through the plan in her mind one more time.
“You look perfect,” he said, watching her in the mirror.
“That’s the point.” She turned to face him. “We’ve got exactly forty-three minutes in the security rotation gap. You need to be in position behind the storage panel by the time I’m inside the vault. Stavros will stay with me in the corridor.”
“I know the plan, Viv.” He pulled on a light blue shirt that made his eyes even more striking. “I’ve done this before.”
“Not here. Not with these stakes.” She stood and smoothed her dress. “If Stavros suspects anything?—”
“He already suspects something.” Dom stepped closer, his voice dropping. “We just need him to suspect the wrong thing. Keep playing the jealous girlfriend angle. It worked before.”
Vivi nodded. The cover they’d established—that she was checking on her assets because she didn’t trust Dom not to drain their joint accounts during an increasingly bitter breakup—was believable enough. Especially after their staged argument at breakfast yesterday, loud enough for the staff to hear.
“Are your comms online?” she asked.
