Chapter 5
LUCIA
The heavy mahogany door clicks shut.
The brass latch engages with a solid snap. The suffocating tension severs. The bitter tang of gun oil and baked leather slowly dissipates from the air.
My knees hit the plush cream rug. Arms open wide.
Pink unicorn pajamas and a mop of messy dark curls collide with my chest. Tyra throws her tiny body against mine. Small arms lock fiercely around my neck. The sweet, innocent scent of strawberry shampoo erases the violent energy Rafe left behind.
“Mommy,” she mumbles into my skin.
“I have you, baby.” A desperate kiss lands on the top of her head. “Right here.”
Rosa stands near the bedroom entrance. The nanny clutches a small canvas overnight bag. Her uniform is crisp, untouched by the chaos of the last hour. She has no idea an elite operator just threatened to tear this entire suite down to the studs.
“She wanted her own bed,” Rosa explains softly. “The playroom was too loud for her this afternoon.”
“It is fine, Rosa.” The words shake slightly on their way out. A hard swallow steadies my vocal cords. “Thank you for bringing her.”
Rosa sets the bag on the floor and exits toward the sitting room. Ignorance protects her.
Tyra pulls back. Small fists rub at her bright, intelligent eyes. She stares at the heavy wood of my bedroom door.
“Who was the giant man?”
The high, sweet question twists a sharp blade in my gut.
“Just a security guard, sweetie.” The lie slips out smoothly. “Uncle Dominic hired him for the big party tomorrow.”
“He looked scary.”
“Not scary at all.” Another lie coats my tongue with a bitter taste. “Just very tall. Come on. Time for sleep.”
I push to my feet. Tyra’s weight is a perfect anchor against the adrenaline crash.
I carry her down the short, dimly lit hallway to the nursery. The soft yellow walls offer a false sense of security. The air smells like baby powder and clean laundry. I set her down in the center of the tiny bed.
I tuck the heavy pink blanket under her chin. I smooth the messy dark curls away from her forehead.
She grabs her ragged grey stuffed wolf. Her eyes droop shut.
“Sleep tight, my brave girl.”
I retreat slowly. I keep her in my line of sight until the white door clicks shut behind me.
The silence of the East Wing Suite crashes down hard.
I press my spine against the hallway wall. Gravity drags me down the smooth paint until the hardwood floor stops the fall. I pull my knees tight to my chest.
Twenty minutes ago, the grand foyer was the frontline. Now, three highly trained predators occupy my private sanctuary. They pace the sitting room. They check the window locks. They breathe my air.
I close my eyes.
The physical memory of Rafe is a violent ache in my bones.
The emerald silk is useless against the phantom friction of his calloused palms. I can still feel the weight of his cock pressing into my stomach through his tactical gear, a hard, demanding promise of what he’d do if he let himself go.
He didn’t just want to search me; he wanted to shove me backward onto the mattress, rip the silk right down the middle, and bury himself so deep in my soaking pussy that I’d be screaming his name for the rest of the night.
My clit throbs with a heavy, localized heat, my own juices slicking my inner thighs as I lean against the wall for support.
The terrifying truth is simple. He could have done it, and my body would have welcomed every second.
I shove the dangerous thought away. I force my eyes open.
No room for weakness. No room for losing focus.
I walk into the master bathroom.
The space is blindingly bright. White marble covers every surface. Harsh vanity lights illuminate the massive mirror above the double sinks.
A stranger stares back at me from the glass.
My dark hair sits in a wild, tangled mess. My lips are swollen and bruised red from biting them. A chaotic flush stains my neck and chest. My pupils are blown wide.
I look thoroughly, undeniably ravaged.
I turn the heavy silver handle. Ice-cold water blasts into the porcelain basin. I cup my hands. I splash the freezing water onto my face. The brutal cold snaps my brain back into alignment.
I grab a plush white towel. I dry my face aggressively.
Dominic treats me like a convenient prop. The obedient, beautiful sister. The background decoration for his corrupt dinners and illegal dealings. He buys me expensive dresses. He provides a sprawling compound. He puts the Costa name on display whenever it benefits his political image.
He expects quiet compliance. He expects smiles on command.
He severely underestimates me.
His ego assumes a woman cannot understand complex offshore banking accounts. He believes coded shipping manifests are beyond my mental capacity.
His arrogance is his fatal flaw.
That exact blind spot gave me the key to his private study. It bypassed his secure server. It allowed a complete copy of his bloody empire to transfer onto a tiny piece of metal.
I am going to burn his entire world straight to the fucking ground.
I drop the towel onto the marble counter.
I walk to the massive walk-in closet. I unzip the hanging garment bag in one clean motion.
The blood-red silk dress hangs ready for tomorrow night. Plunging neckline. A dangerously high slit. Pure armor. The uniform I’ll wear to play the perfect, oblivious sister one last time.
My bare toes curl against the floor.
They rest directly over the loose floorboard. The stolen USB drive sits an inch below the wood.
The tiny silver object presses up through the floor like it weighs a thousand pounds.
Three massive, lethal operators stand fifty feet away. Heavily armed. Hyper-vigilant. They hunt for active threats. They have no idea the true bomb is hidden right here in my closet.
Tomorrow is the deadline. Thirty-six hours.
The security contract ends exactly at midnight. Nick, Rafe, and Jude will pack up their tactical gear. They will walk out the heavy front doors and vanish forever.
I just have to keep the drive hidden until tomorrow night.
I also have to prevent an incredibly stupid mistake. Like begging one of them to press me against a wall again.
I grab my phone off the messy mattress.
The screen illuminates. The security group chat stares back at me. The humiliating text message sits at the top.
Nick did not delete it. The communication channel is still active.
I tap my thumb over my message. A useless gesture. They already read it. They already memorized every word.
I open my contacts. I tap Steph’s name.
I press the phone to my ear. My bare feet carry me out of the bedroom and into the dark sitting room. Amber streetlamps spill faint light through the gaps in the heavy drapes.
The line rings twice.
“Lucia?” Steph answers. Loud and frantic. “Where have you been? Are you okay?”
“Keep your voice down.” My own drops to a bare whisper. “I am fine.”
“You disappeared for two hours,” Steph shrieks softly. “I was about to call your brother. Did the new security detail arrive? Are they hideous? Tell me they look like trolls. It will make this so much better.”
“They do not look like trolls, Steph.” A heavy sigh escapes. “They look like actual monsters. Beautiful, terrifying monsters. And I did something completely insane.”
“What did you do?”
“I meant to text you.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I drafted a message about how hot they were. A very graphic message about masturbating to their security files. But I did not send it to you.”
Steph inhales sharply. “Who did you send it to?”
“The newly created security group chat.”
“Oh my God.” Steph laughs, wicked and delighted. “Wait. All three of them?”
“All three.” My bare toes hit the cool marble tile of the kitchenette. “The Commander is arrogant. Bossy. He cornered me in the kitchen and basically demanded my total submission. And the big one…”
“The big one?” Steph practically purrs. “Details. Now.”
“His name is Rafe. He is the size of a mountain. Completely feral.” The memory sends a fresh wave of heat to my core. “He did a security sweep. He patted me down. His hands were everywhere, Steph. Everywhere.”
“Did you die?”
“My pussy was soaking wet, Steph. I almost came just from his hands on my thighs.” The raw truth slips out into the dark. “My brain completely short-circuited. If Tyra had not walked in, I would have begged him to push me onto the bed, rip my panties off, and bury his thick cock inside me.”
“Holy shit.” Steph laughs again. “You need to lock your door tonight. Or leave it wide open. Actually, definitely leave it open.”
“I need to survive until the Gala tomorrow.”
“You can survive and still have a little fun with the hired muscle.”
A metallic click slices through the dark room.
Precise. Cold. Deadly.
I freeze mid-step. My heart stalls in my chest.
“Lucia?” Steph asks. “Are you there?”
“I have to go.”
I pull the phone from my ear. I hit the red button. I drop the device onto the marble counter.
I stare into the dark corner of the kitchenette.
A massive shadow sits perfectly still on the small barstool.
Jude.
He blends into the darkness. Dark cargo pants and a black tactical shirt absorb the ambient light. He doesn’t loom aggressively. He doesn’t pace like a caged animal. He sits with terrifying stillness.
A sleek handgun rests on the marble in front of him. A soft cloth moves methodically over the metal barrel.
“I did not mean to interrupt your conversation.”
His voice is a low, smooth baritone. It vibrates deep in the center of my chest. Grounding. Nothing like the harsh barks of the other two men.
“You did not interrupt.” I cross my arms under my breasts. “I was finished.”
Jude doesn’t look up. The cloth glides along the weapon. The metallic snick of the slide snapping back into place echoes in the confined space.
“You lie incredibly well.”
The quiet observation lands with pinpoint accuracy.
“Excuse me?”