Knock, knock.
Hudson opens the door and the sight of Pippa causes my heart to stutter in my chest.
Her midnight-blue silk dress is cut low enough to make a man forget his better judgment. The silver stilettos look like they weredesigned specifically to tempt disaster. She wears confidence like armor, and tonight it’s as sharp as glass. She wants the upper hand.
Bella, it’s already yours.
Hudson clocks her outfit. “Well damn, Janey, you planning on giving me a heart attack before drinks?”
She brushes past him with a smirk. “Just trying to liven up what I assumed would otherwise be a very boring meeting.”
I watch her take in the apartment, slow and assessing. Hudson’s place is clean, polished, masculine. Expensive without trying. She’s never been here before, I know that much. Everything between John and Jane happened on neutral ground—hotels, temporary spaces, places you don’t leave fingerprints. Now the veil is half-raised, revealing real names, day jobs, hidden responsibilities, and apartments.
I stand by the window with a glass of bourbon, eyeing her appreciatively.
She smiles, but I can tell she’s trying to read me.
“This feels incriminating. Mafia royalty spotted inside a federal agent’s apartment? Bold,” she smirks.
“I own the building. And the security system. Nothing gets in or out without me knowing.”
She blinks. “Jesus. How much of DC do you own?”
“A lot.”
Hudson drops into an armchair, feet up like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Yeah, it’s super convenient. Mobster landlord, FBI tenant. We’re like the shittiest sitcom premise ever.”
I don’t laugh. The operation is tomorrow night. Everything’s set. Roles assigned. Contingencies planned. There’s nothing left to talk about.
Except this.
“Well, gentleman,” Pippa says, light but deliberate, “thank youfor the invitation. I must say, I’m happy we’ve reached this inevitable conclusion. When I imagined the three of us together, this is exactly how it started. So, who’s making the first move?”
I straighten. “Before anything happens, we need to talk.”
“About the op?” she asks, innocent in a way that isn’t innocent at all. “Or about logistics of adifferentsort? Who’s putting what where?”
Hudson lifts his hand like he’s toasting. “Cheers to that.”
“We need to be smart. We can’t let whateverthisis mess with our plans.”
“You think I’d risk our mission over a hookup? Cute, but no. Nothing to worry about on my end.”
Hudson laughs quietly but stays out of it.
“I’m serious,” I try again. “My friendship with Hudson isn’t something I’m willing to sacrifice over a few nights of sex.”
“Good to know where I rank,” she says turning toward the door.
“Wait,” Hudson says, standing. “Pip, come on. He didn’t mean it like that.”
She pauses, hand on the knob.
“He just thinks too damned much,” Hudson throws a glare my way. “Me? I’m over here thinking maybe the three of us need to have a little less conversation, a little more action.”
She glances back, mouth twitching. “Elvis would be proud.”
I sigh and drag a hand through my hair, interrupting the wave of easy flirtation. “I just don’t want to screw this up.”
