“So I’m not just a witness to a murder. I’m a target because my boss secretly recorded me doing my job.”
“Yes, all of them.”
I look past Adrian toward the windows, thinking about the significance of the last three days. I immediately recall fucking him in the private room. Did Karpov get that? All of it, just pieces, or nothing? I wish I could believe he got nothing, but I have to prepare for the possibility that he got at least enough to recognize who we are and what we were doing. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because you deserve to know what you’re facing, and the decisions you make from here should be based on full information.”
I shake my head. “That’s not what I mean. Why are you protecting me, bringing me here, and telling me all this?”
“Because I created the situation you’re in.”
The answer is unsatisfying and doesn’t come anywhere near addressing what happened between us before Dominic died. We both know it. He doesn’t expand on it, and I don’t push, because I’m not ready for that conversation.
“I need to call Marisol.”
He slides a phone across the desk. It’s new, still shiny, with no case, stickers, or history. “That’s a secure line. Viktor set it upthis morning. Don’t use your personal phone for anything until further notice.” He hesitates. “The ingoing and outgoing calls are logged for security purposes, but your conversations won’t be recorded.”
I nod, slightly reassured about that. A moment later, I take the phone and go back to the guest room. My fingers tremble as I dial the number, glad it’s one of the few I’ve memorized.
Marisol answers on the third ring, sounding suspicious. “Who is this?”
“It’s me. I have a new phone.”
“Aurora.” Her voice goes from cautious to sharp instantly. “Where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to reach you since last night. Your phone goes straight to voicemail, you’re not at your apartment, and Echelon’s phones are all disconnected.”
“I know. I’m safe, and I need you to listen before you react.”
She exhales harshly. “That is the worst possible opening to a phone call.”
“Dominic is dead, but you can’t tell anyone that.” I say it plainly because Marisol doesn’t respond well to softened information. “The situation at the club was worse than anyone knew. He was involved in things that put people at risk, and now I’m under Adrian’s protection because the wrong people could come looking for me. The cops are already investigating the disappearance, and Eric has volunteered for the assignment.”
The silence on the line lasts four seconds, which is an eternity from Marisol. “Under his protection, as in…you’re living with him?”
That’s the part she focuses on rather than Eric or Dominic? I’m touched that she’s worried about me even in the face of more shocking news, but I wish she could be a bit more oblivious sometimes. “I’m staying at a property he owns. It’s temporary, and it’s necessary.”
That suspicious note returns, but not because she doesn’t recognize the number this time. “Is it necessary because you have to be there, or because part of you wants to be?”
I expected the question, but I still don’t have a clean answer. “Both. I’m being honest about that. Adrian has been direct with me, protective without talking down to me, and more careful with my feelings than Eric ever was. I’m keeping my distance deliberately because I don’t want to confuse gratitude with desire.”
“What about him being apparently involved in whatever got Dominic killed?” She lowers her voice. “Did he kill Dominic?”
I don’t directly answer that. “I’m aware of who he is, Mari.”
“Are you? Yesterday, you were a nightclub hostess, and today, you’re hiding in a billionaire’s apartment while your ex-boyfriend investigates your boss’s death, which I’m guessing was at the hands of said billionaire with rumoredbratvaties. That’s a lot of life changes for one day.”
She’s right, and I hate it. “I know how it sounds.”
“It sounds like you’re in over your head, and I’m trying to figure out whether the water is warm because you’re safe or because you’re drowning slowly.” She pauses. “Don’t confuse relief with trust. I know you well enough to hear the difference in your voice, and right now, you sound relieved. Don’t convince yourself this is something more.”
“That’s fair.” I sit on the bed and press my free hand against my knee.
Her tone changes, becoming brisker. “Tell me what you need,mija. Anything.”
I’m not surprised by the offer. “I need practical help. The bag someone packed for me was mostly sweats, one bra, and nothing I’d actually wear in public. I need more clothes, my laptop, and the blue folder from my desk drawer. Can you go to my apartment and grab them?”
“Of course I can.” No hesitation or questions about why. Marisol shifts from emotional interrogation to practicalities without a gap because that’s who she is. “When do you need it?”
“As soon as possible. I’ll arrange a pick-up with Adrian’s people.”
