I knew I should look away, but I felt frozen, unable to tear my eyes away.
Her hands reached behind her to unhook the clasp. The straps slipped from her shoulders, and the bra fell away, baring her to the room. The curve and weight of her full breasts drew my eyes without mercy, the pale skin and soft rise catching the light from the bedside lamp.
She stood again, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and drawing them down. The fabric traced over her hips and thighs before falling to the floor. Every line of her was full and unapologetic, from the dip of her waist to the flare of her hips.
Turning slightly, she bent at the waist to reach her suitcase. The zipper rasped open, and her position gave me an unbroken view of her bottom, round and high, the shape enough to lock my breath in my chest. Heat curled low, tight, and I shifted in my chair before I realized I was doing it.
Beside me, Alex gave a low whistle. “Hot damn, she’s gorgeous.”
I nodded without looking away.
She pulled a nightgown from the suitcase and shook it loose, then let it fall over her head. The fabric settled around her hips, hiding everything that had my pulse running faster. I exhaled slowly, my eyes still fixed on the screen as if the image might shift back to what it had been.
I finally pulled my eyes away from the screen long enough to glance at Alex. Her eyes were fixed on the same feed, her mouth curved in something between a smirk and focus.
“I should have been the one to tuck her in,” she said, voice low. “So I could taste those lips.”
The words landed without surprise. She’d seen it, then. I leaned back a little, keeping my own expression neutral. “Maybe you should. It was nothing anyway, just a moment of weakness.”
She flicked a look my way, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Yeah. She’s a walking moment of weakness, I’ll give you that.”
I didn’t answer. Because she was right. And if I let myself think too long about her body on that screen, I might forget every line I’ve drawn. Watching her like this, knowing how close I’d already come. Restraint was a thin thread, and threads snapped under the right pressure.
She propped a pillow under her ankle, the ice pack balanced against it, a book resting in her lap. She shifted once, adjusting the blanket so it covered her legs. The lamp beside her cast a warm circle over the pages, her hair falling forward as she began to read.
I told myself to stay focused, to remember what I’d already decided in the hall. She was the job, not a complication I could afford. But the longer I watched, the more I knew it wasn’t just me who’d have to be careful.
We all might need to guard our hearts with her.
10
Sabine
The room was toolarge to be comfortable. The only movement in the bedroom was the faint sway of the curtains when the heat clicked on. The lamplight on the nightstand spread a warm glow over the bedspread, catching faint gold threads in the fabric. My suitcase sat open on the bench at the foot of the bed, half-unpacked, a reminder that I wasn’t here by choice.
I leaned back against the pillows, book open in my lap. The nightgown I’d found in my bag skimmed mid-thigh, the hem brushing lightly when I shifted my legs. It was soft from years of washing, almost weightless, the kind of comfort I hadn’t expected to find here. I wished I’d thought to grab my robe, but it’s not like I had time to think through my packing.
My injured ankle rested on a pillow, angled so the swelling wouldn’t build. The bandage pulled tight over my skin with each faint throb. It was more irritating than painful now, but enough to remind me that I wasn’t walking anywhere fast. I flexed my toes once, testing, and let them relax again when the ache sharpened.
The worst part wasn’t the ache. It was the enforced stillness. I wasn’t built for this, for lying still while someone else decided what was safe and what wasn’t. Every hour I spent in that bed felt stolen, work sliding out of reach while I sat here like a patient waiting for permission to live again. Kara’s “rest” order rang in my head like a verdict, and I hated how easily I’d obeyed it. Maybe that was what unsettled me most: not the ankle, not the women outside these walls, butthe creeping realization that I was already falling into their rhythm instead of mine.
Time crawled by. It had to be nearly midnight. I had been a night owl my whole life, and my routine was to use the silent night hours to go through research and write. I was used to controlling my own space and time, to deciding when to sit still. Here, the walls felt closer. Even with the bed this soft, the bedroom this warm and opulent, I couldn’t shake the sense of being contained. It was too easy to imagine the locks on the doors downstairs, the gates beyond, the cameras watching the house and grounds.
I wondered if they were watching me right now.
I turned a page without reading it, the words blurring together. My eyes drifted to the window, its pale curtains and the dark beyond them. I adjusted my legs again, and told myself to focus on the book, but there was a restlessness sitting just under my ribs, impossible to ignore.
I set the book on the nightstand, the lamp’s light spilling over the cover. The urge to pee again had been nagging at me for a while, and ignoring it wasn’t going to make it go away. I guess that’s what I get for killing three beers over dinner.
As I maneuvered my careful way to the bathroom, I thought about the trail that had brought me here. The stack of sensitive documents Dom had slid across the table, and the weight of knowing they could dismantle the Bellante family’s hold piece by piece. I closed my eyes and remembered.
I hadn’t imagined that chasing the truth would end with me hidden away in a place like this, the marble sink and ornate mirror more suited to a boutique hotel than a safehouse. The contrast was jarring, a reminder that safety here came wrapped in both comfort and threat.
Comfort, threat, and a pack of intimidating women.
Then, with a wry twist of thought, I corrected the thought: a bunch of attractive intimidating women. Kara with her commanding eyes that were always assessing the room. Ellie, whose easy smile didn’t quite hide the sharpness beneath. Cam, solid as stone with a crooked smile. And Alex… maybe I’d get lucky and she would be unattractive, or awful, or something to offset her team.
I pressed my palms to the edge of the sink, letting the cool porcelain steady me. My dating life didn’t exactly give me much ground to stand on when it came to sizing up potential partners anyway. Work had always been easier to focus on than the messy unpredictability of people.
