Chapter 3 #2
“Walk with me,” he says.
This is it. This is my window.
“Of course.” I set my napkin on the table and follow him. We move away from the others, down a hallway lined with more expensive art, toward another wing of the house.
Enzo opens a door onto a terrace overlooking the grounds and steps aside to let me through.
“After you.”
I step out into the night, and the cool air hits my feverish skin like ice water. For a moment, I just allow myself to breathe it in, letting the relief wash over me even though I know it won’t last.
“Figured you could use some air,” Enzo says behind me. “You looked a little flushed in there.”
I tense. “It was warm in the dining room.”
“Mm.” He doesn't sound convinced.
The door clicks shut behind us, and the sounds of the dinner party fade to nothing.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks. Enzo moves to the terrace railing, and I stay where I am, keeping distance between us.
“So,” I say, when the silence stretches too long. “Why are we out here?”
He doesn’t turn around. “I wanted to speak with you privately.”
“Of course, figured you didn’t bring me out here to stargaze. So what’s it about?”
“Your work.” He glances over his shoulder, and even in the dim light I can see the sharp edge of his smile. “Your report this afternoon was excellent. You’ve already identified most of Viktor’s access points.”
My heart stops dead in my chest.
“Viktor?”
Enzo turns to face me fully, and there’s something dangerous in his eyes.
“Viktor Sokolov,” he says calmly. “The one who’s been diverting shipments for at least six months. The one you’ve been so carefully documenting.”
The blood drains from my face so fast I go lightheaded.
He knows.
“I don’t—”
“Don’t insult me by lying.” His tone stays soft, but there’s an edge to it that makes all the hair on my body stand on end.
“You’re good, DaCosta. But you’re not as subtle as you think.
” He takes a step toward me. “One week to map my entire organization? To find vulnerabilities that just happen to align with Viktor’s operations?
” Another step. “Either you’re the best security consultant I’ve ever hired, or you came here with a very specific agenda. ”
My hand moves toward the gun before I can stop it.
Enzo tracks the movement and smirks.
“So that’s how it is,” he says quietly.
I draw the weapon. Point it center mass, exactly how I’ve practiced a thousand times.
“Marco Moretti.” My voice doesn’t waver, thank fuck. “You had him killed.”
There’s not a flicker of surprise or hint of fear in the bastard’s expression.
“I know who Marco Moretti was.”
“Then you know why I’m here.”
“To avenge your brother,” he says casually like we’re discussing the fucking weather.
Wait.
Brother.
I never mentioned Marco was my brother.
My finger trembles on the trigger as the corners of Enzo’s mouth curve.
“Luca Moretti,” he says slowly, savoring each syllable.
“Age twenty-six. Omega. Computer science degree from Dalton University, graduated four years ago with honors. Worked as a data analyst for two years before going freelance. No criminal record. Lived with your brother until his arrest. Spent the last six months building a fake identity as David DaCosta, complete with military background and security consulting experience. Used your considerable IT skills to create a flawless digital footprint—bank records, employment history, social media presence going back years.” He pauses, and his smile deepens.
“Very thorough work, by the way. Almost had me convinced.”
My blood turns to ice in my veins.
“You knew.” The words come out strangled.
“From the first day you walked into Eclipse.” He cocks his head to the side, studying me. “What, you think I wouldn’t investigate someone I’m giving access to my entire security infrastructure?” His smile sharpens into something lethal. “I’m a thorough man, Luca. It’s why I’m still alive.”
The full weight of it crashes over me. I’m shaking, and I can’t tell if it’s rage or fear or the sick humiliation of being outmaneuvered. I’ve been playing checkers while he’s been playing chess this whole time.
“Then why—”
“Why did I let you in?” He takes another step closer.
Fuck. It doesn’t even matter what reason he has. I should pull the trigger, end this now while I still can.
But I’m frozen, paralyzed by the revelation and his scent flooding my senses, making it impossible to think straight.
“I wanted to see what you’d do. How far you’d go.” His gaze sweeps over me. “And because I understood.”
“Bullshit.”
“Viktor framed your brother,” he continues, ignoring my outburst. “And had him beaten to death before the trial could expose the truth.” Something flickers in his expression—something that almost looks like regret. “I didn’t order it. Didn’t even know until after.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
His eyes lock with mine, dark and steady and infuriatingly sincere. “Viktor acted without my consent. I found out after your brother was already dead.”
“Convenient,” I spit.
“It’s the truth.” He takes another step forward, and now he’s close enough that I can see the pulse beating in his throat.
“I’ve been building a case against Viktor for months.
Your brother’s death was the catalyst, but not the only crime.
Viktor’s been stealing from the family, using our resources for his own operations and making deals behind my back. ”
I want to believe him. God help me, I want to. But Marco died on someone’s orders. Even if Sokolov ordered the hit, someone higher up had to approve it. That’s how organizations like this work.
“Why should I believe you?” My voice cracks, and I hate myself for the weakness. “Why should I believe a single fucking word out of your mouth?”
“Because I could have had you killed the second you stepped into Eclipse, but I didn’t.” He moves closer still, his breath hot on my face with every word.
I instinctively take a step back.
“I gave you full access to my systems. Let you dig through my organization. Invited you into my home.” His voice drops lower, intimate, almost tender. “You think you hid that gun so well?”
His gaze flicks upward briefly, to the roofline on another building on the grounds.
“There are three guards with rifles trained on you right now. One word from me, and they put you down.”
My finger tightens on the trigger. “Then say it.”
“No.”
The word hangs between us, heavy with something I can’t name. Enzo is so close that the muzzle is pressed against his chest. Point-blank range. Impossible to miss. And yet my finger stays frozen on the trigger, like some part of me is waiting for permission I’ll never get.
“I understand your pain,” he says, and his voice rolls over me, landing somewhere deep, in a place I didn’t know was still soft. “If someone killed my family, I’d want blood too.”
His hand comes up to cup my cheek.
The moment his skin touches mine, everything goes wrong.
I feel my suppressants shatter like glass.
One second I’m standing there with a gun pointed at Enzo’s chest, the next I’m doubling over as a cramp seizes my entire body so violently I nearly scream.
It feels like someone’s driving a hot poker through my abdomen and twisting it.
A wave of heat blasts through my bloodstream, burning me from the inside out, incinerating every last shred of control I have left.
The gun slips from my fingers and clatters on the stone terrace.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
This can’t be happening. Not here. Not now.
“Damn you—” The words dissolve into a choked gasp as pain whites out my vision.
Direct skin-to-skin contact with an alpha when my suppressants were already failing. Of course it would push me over the edge. I’ve kept my heat under control for years, and my body picks now of all times to betray me.
My knees buckle.
Months of planning and preparation, and I’m about to collapse at my enemy’s feet like some pathetic weakling.
Hands catch me before I hit the ground. Strong hands that grip my arms with surprising gentleness, steadying me against a chest that feels like a furnace, making me want to melt against it even as my mind screams in protest.
The fever burns through me, spreading from my gut to my limbs to every nerve ending in my body. My skin feels too tight, like I'm going to split open. And god help me, slick is already starting to pool between the crack of my ass.
“No,” I gasp. My voice even sounds wrong in my ears. “No… not like this. Not with you.”
Enzo goes terrifyingly still. His hands tighten on my arms. Then I hear the sharp inhale. Watch his nostrils flare as he breathes me in, confirming what his instincts are already telling him.
“You’re in heat.”
“Fuck you.” I try to push him away, but my muscles won’t cooperate. My hands just slide uselessly against his chest.
Everything hurts and burns. And underneath the pain is the want—the terrible, consuming, overwhelming need that makes me hate myself more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life.
I lean forward without meaning to, my nose finding the junction of his neck and shoulder. I breathe him in and my cock goes achingly hard in my pants.
“Oh God. Oh fuck, no—” I jerk back in horror. “No, no, no—”
His arms lock around my waist, yanking me back against his chest, and I feel the thick length of his cock pressing against my hip. My body responds instantly with a fresh gush of slick flooding out of me, soaking through my underwear. The humiliation is so intense I can’t breathe.
Suddenly, his scent starts filling my lungs by the second, making my head swim. I can’t seem to think past the alpha-alpha-alpha chant pounding through my skull.
“Stop it.” I shove weakly at his chest. “Stop—stop releasing your fucking pheromones.”
“I’m not releasing anything.” His voice is infuriatingly calm. “It’s just your heat heightening your senses.”
“Bullshit!” My hands fist his shirt. “You’re doing this on purpose. You’re—mmph fuck!” I shudder against him uncontrollably as another cramp rolls through me, stealing my breath.
“Just... just kill me. Please. Just fucking kill me.”
His fingers dig into my waist, and another pathetic whimper escapes my throat.
“I’m not going to kill you.”
“Don’t—”
“Can you walk?”
I want to tell him to fuck off. I’d rather die on this terrace than accept a shred of help from him.
But the words die on my lips when another wave hits, and my legs give out completely.
Enzo catches me before I can fall. Lifts me like I weigh nothing. I see his lips moving but don't hear any sounds. And for someone who was just told his security analyst was here to kill him, his face is more etched with concern as he looks at me than when he was facing my gun.
The world tilts and shifts as he carries me back inside.
I want to fight. Scream. Do anything other than curl into him like he’s safety instead of danger. But his scent is wrapping around me like a drug, and his body heat is the only thing that doesn’t hurt.
“Please,” I gasp, but I’m not even sure what I’m asking for anymore. Death, maybe. Or mercy. Or for the clock to turn back five minutes to when I still had control of my body.
All I know is that I want the ache to go away. Anything to make it stop.
“I’ve got you.” I hear Enzo’s voice, but it sounds like it’s coming from a mile away. It’s the last thing I hear before everything in my world goes black.