Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
PRESLEY
We’re just stepping through the revolving glass doors into Citadel HQ when my phone starts buzzing in my jacket pocket. The caller ID flashes: Vincent Tran.
Great. Nothing like a surprise phone call from the top while walking into enemy territory. I glance at Aria. She’s a few steps ahead, already badging us in at the security desk. Her stride is all purpose and fire—focused, sharp, as usual.
“Give me a second,” I say, stepping to the side and answering the call. “Vincent.”
“Presley,” he says, voice brisk. “We’ve got him.”
I blink. “Got who?”
“The thief. Janitor from our maintenance staff. Name’s Ronan Griggs. Older guy. Quiet. Nobody suspected him. Security flagged something weird in his breakroom locker, pulled him in this morning. He cracked almost immediately.”
I’m frozen in place, gripping the phone tighter. “You’re saying he confessed?”
“He did,” Vincent confirms. “Claimed he saw a chance during the transport window and took it. Smuggled the Weeping Jewels out inside a bag of shredded linen laundry. Brought them home. Said he panicked and didn’t know what to do with them.”
My brain is scrambling to keep up. “And he just… gave them back?”
“Turned them in this morning,” Vincent says.
“Said the curse was ‘suffocating his soul’ or something dramatic like that. He’s clearly a few cards short of a full deck.
But the pieces are intact, and we’re having them delivered to Citadel security right now—your partner should be getting them within the hour. ”
I glance through the glass wall into the Citadel’s security wing, where Aria is already waving to one of her techs. “That’s… wow.”
“You sound disappointed,” Vincent says.
“I’m not,” I lie.
Truth is, I’m stunned. After all that digging, tracking, speculation—after chasing shadows and arguing theories with Aria until two in the morning—we got blindsided by a janitor with laundry access.
“Glad it’s handled,” I say finally, trying to collect myself. “I’ll follow up on our end, make sure the chain of custody is documented cleanly.”
“Already in motion,” Vincent says. “Just wanted you in the loop. Good work, Presley. Enjoy the win.”
The line goes dead.
I lower the phone slowly, still not quite sure how to feel.
It’s over?
Just like that?
I turn back toward Aria. She’s waiting by the security door, looking at me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, like she knows something’s up.
I walk up, phone still warm in my hand, trying to figure out how to say this without sounding like I’m the one who stole the damn jewels.
“So,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. “Change of plans.”
Aria raises an eyebrow. “Please don’t tell me you have to cancel. I just got a tech to clear us a viewing station for the private villas.”
“No,” I say, holding up my hands. “Nothing like that. But… we’ve got a confession.”
Her expression shifts. Not shock. Not relief. Something sharper—wariness. “From who?”
“Ronan Griggs. Janitor. Works over at the Jade Petal. Quiet, older, apparently pulled it off during the transport window. Vincent says he used a laundry cart. Just walked the jewels right out the service corridor.”
Aria blinks once. “What?”
“Yeah,” I say, dragging a hand down my face. “He confessed this morning. Said the jewels were cursed, freaked out, brought them back. They’re en route here right now.”
She stares at me, lips slightly parted. “That makes no sense.”
I exhale. “I know.”
“We’ve been scrubbing footage from both casinos for days,” she says, her voice rising just a touch. “And we’ve never seen a janitor even near the vault corridor, let alone the actual transport route.”
“Right?” I say, stepping closer. “That’s what I’m saying. We know everyone who was in the corridor that night. I mapped every possible blind spot, and you tore through every access log. How the hell did a janitor slip through both our systems without so much as a blip?”
She folds her arms tighter. “And since when does Vincent Tran have a full confession and recovery plan locked and loaded before we—the lead investigators—see a single shred of evidence?”
I watch her, the way her mind races behind those sharp eyes. She’s pissed. But more than that, she’s suspicious.
“I don’t buy it,” she mutters.
“Neither do I,” I admit. “But if the jewels show up with Ronan’s fingerprints on them and a signed confession, we’re going to be expected to tie a bow on this thing.”
She looks at the viewing station behind the security glass. The monitors are still paused on the frame we were analyzing before the call. The night of the supposed theft. The real story.
Aria turns back to me. “Let’s keep watching the tapes. Just for now.”
I nod. “Agreed.”
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Aria Taylor—it’s that when her gut says something’s wrong, she’s usually right.
We’re back in the Citadel’s security center, lights dimmed, the soft hum of the servers in the background. Aria queues up the footage on the main screen while I pull another chair up beside her.
She doesn’t say anything as she scrolls through the night of the supposed theft, but I can feel the tension radiating off her. The kind that crackles just beneath the surface, like a live wire under carpet.
“There,” she says finally, pointing at the timestamp. “This is around 3:42 a.m. That’s the window Vincent said the janitor took the jewels.”
We both lean forward. The camera angle shows the loading corridor behind the exhibit wing at the Jade Petal—the stretch between the vault hallway and the service elevator.
And sure enough, there he is.
Ronan Griggs.
Plain blue uniform. Rolling mop bucket. Slow steps. He pushes past a junction point and disappears behind a wall of crates.
“Okay,” I mutter. “So that puts him in the general vicinity.”
“But not in range,” Aria says, fingers already typing. “Watch this.”
She pulls up a second camera—the one angled directly on the transfer door, twenty feet away from where Ronan vanished behind the crates. The one that should show if anyone went in or out.
We both lean in again.
3:42 a.m.
The hallway is still.
3:43.
Still empty.
3:44.
I blink.
“Wait,” I say. “Go back. The last frame before 3:42.”
She rewinds and pauses.
3:41:26.
“Now jump forward.”
She skips ahead.
3:45:02.
“Right there.” I sit up straighter. “There’s a gap. Four minutes unaccounted for.”
She narrows her eyes. “The camera feed jumps. We’re missing everything between 3:41 and 3:45.”
I glance at her. “That’s the window. That’s exactly when Ronan disappears behind the crates.”
Aria sits back in her chair, arms crossed, frowning hard. “It could be coincidence. Or it could mean someone tampered with the footage.”
I nod slowly. “Okay. Let’s say he did mess with the camera. Maybe he looped the footage. Maybe he disabled it temporarily. Either way… that’s not easy to do, especially not on our system. This isn’t some grainy old VHS tape. It’s digital, secure, encrypted, backed up off-site.”
“And he’s a janitor,” she says. “Not some ex-MI6 hacker moonlighting with a mop.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Even I couldn’t scrub four minutes from a Citadel feed without someone upstairs getting a notification. That kind of access takes more than an override key.”
“Exactly,” Aria says, her eyes locked on the screen. “Which means he didn’t do this alone.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, watching the screen as the hallway resumes its slow, uneventful loop.
She finally turns to me. “We keep watching. If someone helped him—if this was staged—we’ll see something.”
I nod. “And if we don’t?”
“Then we’ll prove it anyway.”
I grin. “You sound like you almost enjoy working with me.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Don’t push it.”
“I pushed it the other night. In fact I pushed into you many times. And from what I recall, you loved it.”
“Love is a strong word, Dane.” She quipped. “Don’t oversell yourself.”
“I’m not.” I say.
“You know this is wrong.” She says. “If they found out we were… together, heads would roll…”
“Fuck the rules.” I say. “We both know it’s forbidden, but we’re adults, and we know what we want.”
She rolls her eyes. I watch her as she leans over the table, her tight jeans hugging her ass perfectly.
She’s bent over, going through the video files, and I can't help but imagine what it would be like to bend her over that table and fuck her right here, right now.
She looks up and catches me staring. "See something helpful to the case, Presley?
" she asks, a smirk playing on her lips.
"I see something I want," I reply, my voice low and husky. She raises an eyebrow, a challenge in her eyes. "And what's that?"
"You," I say, stepping closer. "I want you, Aria. I want to fuck you until you can't walk straight."
She stand up, her body inches from mine. "You know it's against the rules, Presley. We could get in serious trouble."
"I seriously don't give a fuck about the rules right now," I growl, my hands gripping her hips. "I want you, and I know you want me too. I don’t give a fuck about your boss. I don’t give a fuck about my boss. I don’t give a fuck about these casinos. The only thing I give a fuck about is fucking you. Once is not enough. Once will never be enough, Aria.”
I turn her toward me, pressing her body against the table. My hands roam over her curves, squeezing her ass before sliding up to her breasts. She moans softly, pushing back against me. I can feel her heat, her need. I grind my hard cock against her, letting her feel what she does to me.
I lean down, my lips capturing hers in a passionate kiss.
Her hands grip the edge of the table, holding on as I ravage her mouth.
My hands slide under her shirt, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples until she gasps into my mouth.
I trail kisses down her neck, biting and sucking at her skin. She tastes so fucking good.
I pull back, my breath ragged. "I want to fuck you from behind, Aria. I want to see that perfect ass of yours while I pound into you."
She looks back at me, her eyes dark with desire. "Then do it.”
I spin her around, bending her over the table. I pull her jeans down, revealing her lacy thong. I run a finger along the edge, feeling her wetness. "Fuck, you're so wet for me," I growl, slipping a finger inside her. She moans, pushing back against my hand.
I pull my finger out, sucking it clean. "You taste so good, Aria. I could eat you all day."
I undo my belt, my cock springing free. I rub the head against her pussy, coating it in her juices. I tease her clit, making her moan and squirm. "Please, Presley," she begs. "Fuck me."
I grin, slapping her ass. "Patience, Aria." I line up my cock, pushing into her slowly. She groans, her body tensing as I fill her. I start to move, slow and steady, letting her feel every inch of me.
"You have a perfectly tight little pussy, Aria. And you know what? From here on out, it’a all mine.
No one touches you here, not even you, understand?
” I groan, picking up the pace. I grip her hips, pulling her back onto my cock.
She meets my thrusts, pushing back against me.
The table creaks under us, the sound of our flesh slapping together filling the room.
“Tell me you heard me, Aria!” I demand.
“I hear you!” She roars back.
“Tell me you belong to me.”
She’s panting harder than ever.
I reach around, my fingers finding her clit. I rub it in tight circles, making her moan and gasp. “Cum for me, Aria," I demand. “Tell me you belong to me while you cum all over my cock."
“No!” She finally gets out.
“Yes!” I demand as I start to fuck her harder. “Tell me you’re mine or I’ll take my dick out of you right now and beat any man that comes within a yard of you.”
She smiles. “I belong to you, Presley”
She cries out, her body tensing as she cums. Her pussy clenches around me, milking my cock. I groan, my own orgasm building. I thrust into her a few more times before exploding, my cock pulsing as I come deep inside her.
I pull out, my cock glistening with her juices. I smack her ass again, making you jump. "Fuck, Aria. That was... intense."
She stands up, turning to face me. She leans in, kissing me softly. "It was," she agrees. “I’m yours, Presley, I always will be.”
My heart melts. I’ve been wanting to hear those words since we first started working together.
Something about her… there’s just something I can’t articulate.
I don’t know if it’s love… hell I don’t even know if I’ve ever been in love before.
But I know I want her, and only her, for the rest of my life.