I cross to the living room and set my pistol onto the glass table. I then reach for my luggage, pull out my encrypted laptop from a hidden compartment in the console, and set it on the table, opening the screen.
"I grew up surrounded by concrete, so I wanted something different," I say, booting up my computer.
"And what do you think you're surrounded by now?"
I look up at her and smile. "It's true, but is that all you see?"
She shakes her head. "No, but I don't think I see what you do."
I go to respond, and my computer login screen appears. Back to business. I sign in and turn back to Danika, holding out my hand.
"The ring. Please."
She's standing by the window, silhouetted against the glass. Her dress is torn, her hair tangled, but somehow she looks utterly untouchable.
Her hand drifts to the ring on her finger, but she doesn't take it off.
She just stands there, staring at the laptop, then at the locked door, then at me.
The adrenaline is wearing off. I can see it in her. The heat from the closet, the desperate kiss, what we did together, it's all fading, replaced by her tactical reality.
I lower my hand slowly.
"Danika."
She looks at me, and I see the shift in her eyes. The guarded calculation returning.
"Why should I trust you?" she asks, her voice quiet. "Why should I believe you'll actually give me a copy once you plug that into your machine?"
My chest tightens.
Because she's right to question it. In the closet, I let my desire dictate the terms. But now, standing here, free from the casino, my political mind takes over.
If I let her walk away with that intel, I lose leverage over the Volkovs. I lose the ability to dismantle their operations, to protect my family from future retaliation.
And more than that, I lose my reason to keep her here.
"You gave me your word," I say, my tone darkening.
Her lips curve into a small smile.
"Yeah, well, words are as good as the gun on that table, Victor." She crosses her arms, the ring still on her finger. "We're on opposite sides."
I take a step toward her.
"You think I don't know that?"
"Then why are we pretending this is anything other than what it is?" She gestures between us. "You want the intel. I want the intel. One of us is leaving here empty-handed."
"Not if you honor your word."
She laughs, sharp and humorless.
"Honor? You're a politician. You don't know the meaning of the word."
My jaw clenches.
I take another step, closing the distance between us. She holds her ground, her chin lifting defiantly.
