Chapter 1
“You look like shit this morning.”
That is not what you want to hear after you’ve been overseas for months on an undercover assignment that unintentionally led to multiple civilian deaths—which is now under international investigation.
“Thanks, Ella,” I reply, throwing the strap of my bag across my desk chair and falling into it.
“Can I get you a coffee?” she asks a bit more hesitantly.
I nod, staring at the blank computer screen in front of me. “I’ll need a gallon of it.”
When I don’t hear movement, I turn to face her. She’s studying me.
“I’m sorry, Nova,” she says cautiously, ignoring my attempt at keeping the situation light.
“Thanks,” I repeat, returning my gaze to the blank computer screen before me, willing my fingers to turn it on.
I’m too much of a coward to do it.
“Can I get you anything else?” Ella asks.
“A dismissal of my trial?” I ask miserably.
She doesn’t say anything right away, probably trying to gauge my mood and wondering if I’ll break down in tears.
“It’ll work out, Nova. It always does,” she tries.
I huff. “Not this time. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”
I switch on my computer, the brightness causing me to squint. I stare at the hundreds of new messages in my inbox. Scrolling through them, I land on the trial date set for six months from now—the trial that will determine my fate as a field agent for the CIA.
I find another message from my director, sent an hour ago. There’s no subject line. I hesitate before clicking on the message, already tensing.
Meet me in my office immediately upon arrival this morning.
Shit.
Pushing back my chair, I stand, straightening my black blazer over a simple white blouse. My black pants are tight-fitting, and I paired them with simple red heels that click as I slowly make my way to the director’s office. My heart beats almost as fast as it does when I’m in the field.
It’s an odd thing to be as fearful of a job as facing the possibility of death. But this position is all I have and all I’ve known for the entirety of my adult life.
I knock lightly, hearing soft voices on the other side. The rustling of clothes and the soft pad of shoes make me step back from the handle. A short male I don’t recognize opens the door. He has thinning hair, a sharp nose, and a sneer that would make most cower.
He stops and blatantly assesses me, running his gaze down my body from my head to my toes, lingering far too long on my chest.
“Apologies for the intrusion.” I don’t hide my disdain. My mouth turns down in a scowl.
He doesn’t say anything as he returns his attention to my face, simply waving me off.
I almost punch the man but fear that won’t help my trial. Instead, I grit my teeth and enter the office. The man leaves without another glance in my direction, not bothering to shut the door behind him.
“I know that look, Nova,” my director says without even taking his eyes off his computer screen.
I tilt my head. “What look is that, Dec?”
“The one you give when you want to stick a knife through someone’s throat.” Declan finally tears his eyes away from the screen, offering a slight and all-too-familiar smirk.
“That obvious?”
He chuckles. “Sit.” He motions to the chair in front of his large mahogany desk, which is meticulously organized.
Declan was hired as a CIA field agent around the same time as me, and we worked on a dozen assignments together.
We became close friends during that time, but he was promoted to director six months ago, and I couldn’t help but feel slightly abandoned.
Now, I’d just completely botched my first assignment without him.
And under his command. I not only doomed myself but may have also doomed him.
My stomach churns as I stare at his perfectly angular facial features. Features I’d memorized over the years.
“I know what you’re going to say,” I begin, trying to get ahead of what I know is inevitable. He is going to take me out of the field.
He raises a dark brow.
“I fucked up, Dec. I’m sorry. I miscalculated. I knew it was too public, but I didn’t want to lose the lead.”
Declan holds up a hand. “Stop, Nova.”
I shut my mouth, staring at the wrinkle between his brow. The one he always gets when he’s considering how to be logical and fair.
“The trial is six months from now. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I need you to gather your evidence and prepare your defense with the lawyer. Do exactly as they say.” Declan emphasizes the last part.
I nod.
He pauses and studies me for another minute. “In the meantime, I have an assignment for you.”
My eyes widen.
Declan laughs. “You didn’t think I’d let you mope around the office for six months, did you?”
“I thought…” I pause, stumbling over my words and my own thoughts. “I thought I’d be benched until the verdict.”
“You aren’t guilty until proven, so I will act like you’re innocent until someone tells me you aren’t. You’re my best agent, and this assignment requires your particular skill set.” He smirks at the last part.
I groan. That always means he needs my looks to help infiltrate the world of my target.
“This assignment is local, too, so you won’t have to go off-grid in some random country. You can stay in touch the whole time.”
“So you can babysit me?”
Declan chuckles. “Believe me, you don’t need babysitting. The location was a coincidence.”
“What’s the assignment?”
“A billionaire CEO is suspected of acquiring other billion-dollar companies and then murdering the CEOs of those companies.”
My mouth involuntarily falls open. “Excuse me?”
Declan smirks. “You heard me correctly.”
“What method of murder?”
Declan runs a hand through his short, brown hair, and the furrow between his brow is evident.
“You don’t know the method?” I ask, stunned.
“No, that’s not it. The three victims have all been found with traces of poison in their systems. The oddity is that they are all different compounds and in quantities that suggest that the poison might not have been the primary cause of death, which makes it hard to convict anyone.
However, all three victims are billionaire CEOs of companies recently acquired by Regenerative Industries, which is run by Owen Mills.
The timing is what alerted the authorities.
All three deaths occurred within a month of the acquisitions. ”
“Owen Mills? The cocky bastard who claims he’s saving the world? The one that’s always on The Morning Show?”
“That’s the one.”
I sigh. “Great.”
“Owen’s looking for a personal assistant to manage his various foundations and charities.”
“And that’s where I come in.”
Standing, I pace around the room, my mind instantly questioning how to insert myself into his life. What might he be like, and how I can protect myself from someone like him, should I have to? Is he your typical, hot guy billionaire? Or is he something worse?
He’s accused of murder, so probably worse.
“It won’t be easy, Nova,” Declan interrupts my thoughts. “I couldn’t get you an interview for a position in his acquisitions department. You’ll be hard-pressed to get evidence working with his charities, but at least it’s a personal assistant position. You might still be able to find a way in.”
I stop pacing and look at him. “You doubt me?”
Declan smiles genuinely. “I would never doubt you.” He pauses again, as if debating whether or not to say the next part. “I know how you are with guys like him. You’re going to have to pretend to actually like him.”
“So no punching, kicking, or knives to the throat?” I ask, grinning innocently.
Declan rolls his eyes. “You can punish the bastard by putting him behind bars.”
“Not nearly as fun,” I mumble.
He laughs, loud and genuine this time. “Go do your research. Your interview is in two days.”