Chapter 7 Regina
Regina
“You’re getting sloppy.”
The voice cuts through the darkness of the parking garage, and my heart slams against my ribs even as I recognize it. Mauricio steps out from behind a concrete pillar, all salt and paper hair with dangerous grace, looking like vengeance dressed up in expensive clothes.
“What the fuck?” I press a hand to my chest, willing my pulse to slow. “Do you practice being terrifying, or does it just come naturally?”
“Natural talent.” His smile is sharp enough to draw blood. “You’re late.”
“I’m three minutes late.” I move toward him, hyper-aware of how the dim lighting catches the planes of his face, making him look like something carved from shadows and bad decisions. “Since when are you tracking me down to the second?”
“Since you started leaving traces.” He pulls out his phone, turns the screen toward me. “You used your credit card at a coffee shop six blocks from here. The same coffee shop you visited last week before our meeting. Patterns get people killed, Regina.”
The casual way he says my name as if he owns it, as if he’s earned the right to it, does something warm and dangerous to my chest.
“I needed caffeine.” I cross my arms, defensive. “Is that a crime now?”
“It is when you’re supposed to be maintaining cover.
” He closes the distance between us, and suddenly the parking garage feels too small, too charged.
“Your father’s people aren’t stupid. They see patterns, they start asking questions.
You want to explain to Sabino why you’re frequenting the same location before disappearing for an hour? ”
He’s right, and I hate that he’s right, and I hate even more how my body responds to his proximity—pulse quickening, breath shallowing, skin hyperaware of the inches between us.
“Fine.” I force myself to hold his gaze, to not back down, even though every instinct screams that this man is dangerous in ways that have nothing to do with violence. “I’ll be more careful. Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” But there’s heat beneath the sarcasm, something that makes his stormy gray eyes darken as they trace across my face. “You have the information?”
I pull the flash drive from my jacket pocket, but when he reaches for it, I close my fist around it. “First, you tell me—was the intel from last week useful?”
“Regina—”
“Was. It. Useful?” I step closer, close enough to see the silver stubble on his jaw, close enough to catch the scent of him—sandalwood and something darker, more primal.
“Because I’m taking massive risks every time I access those files.
The least you can do is confirm I’m not wasting both our time. ”
The silence stretches, electric and dangerous. Then his hand closes over mine—not grabbing, just covering, his palm rough and warm against my knuckles.
“It was useful.” His voice drops lower, intimate. “Very useful. Your information about the shipment route helped us intercept a weapons delivery headed for one of your father’s secondary locations. We also prevented what would’ve been an attack on Simeone’s estate.”
The admission lands like a physical touch. “You’re telling me I—”
“You saved lives.” His thumb traces across my knuckles, the gesture so casual it feels rehearsed, except I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens like he’s fighting something. “Loriana’s. Alessandro’s. People who matter.”
“People who matter to you,” I correct, and my voice comes out breathier than intended.
“Yes.” No hesitation, just honesty that feels more intimate than any lie. “Which means you matter now too. Whether I like it or not.”
The words hang between us, loaded with implications neither of us is ready to name. My hand still rests in his, the flash drive pressed between our palms like a promise or a threat.
“I don’t need to matter to you.” But even as I say it, something in my chest twists with longing I don’t want to acknowledge. “I just need you to help me escape when this is over.”
“Is that all you need?” His free hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing across my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. “Because the way you’re looking at me right now suggests otherwise.”
“The way I’m—” My breath catches as he angles my face up, his eyes searching mine with intensity that makes my knees weak. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” He leans closer, and I can feel his breath against my lips, warm and dangerous. “Then why is your pulse racing? Why are your eyes devouring me? Why are you leaning into my touch instead of pulling away?”
“This is a bad idea.” But I don’t move away, don’t do anything to stop what’s clearly about to happen.
“Terrible idea.” His thumb traces my lower lip, and arousal floods through me so intensely I almost gasp. He takes an abrupt step back. “It’s probably the worst decision either of us could make.”
The rejection stings even though I know he’s right. I smooth my jacket, trying to ignore how my hands tremble.
“So what now?” I force my voice to steady.
“This is what matters,” he says, holding up the flash drive. “Information. Strategy. Taking down your father’s empire so you can be free.”
“And what if I want both?” The question escapes before I can stop it. “What if I want freedom and fun even if temporary?”
“Then you’re asking for something I can’t give you.
” His expression softens slightly, and somehow that’s worse than if he’d stayed cold.
“I spent fifteen years in prison, Regina. Fifteen years of learning that wanting things you can’t have only makes the cage smaller.
I won’t be your escape fantasy any more than you’ll be mine. ”
The words hit like ice water, dousing the heat and vulnerability I’d let him see. He’s right, I know he’s fucking right. But knowing doesn’t make the sting any less sharp.
“Fine.” I straighten my spine, rebuilding my own armor. “Strictly business from now on. Information exchange, nothing more.”
“Good.” But the way he’s looking at me—like he wants to close the distance, like saying no is physically painful—suggests it’s anything but good.
He glances at the flash drive in his hand. “What’s on this one?”
“Financial records from Father’s eastern operations.
Shipping manifests that don’t match the official logs.
Evidence of bribes to port officials.” I recite the information in a clinical and professional manner.
“Also included are details about his upcoming meeting with suppliers from Rotterdam. Location, time, security detail.”
“Damn.” Respect flashes across his features. “How are you accessing this without raising red flags?”
“Because everyone underestimates the decorative daughter.” The bitterness leaks through despite my best efforts. “Father gives me access to his legitimate business files. He doesn’t realize I taught myself to crack his encrypted systems years ago.”
“That’s—”
“Reckless? Stupid?” I finish for him. “Or maybe just desperate.”
“I was going to say impressive.” He pockets the drive. “Dangerously impressive.”
The compliment shouldn’t warm me as much as it does. “Will you use it? The meeting information?”
“We’ll discuss it with Simeone.” He checks his watch, and I realize we’ve been here longer than planned. “You need to go. The longer you’re gone, the more questions you’ll face.”
“Right.” I move toward my car, then pause. “Mauricio?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For not taking advantage of me.” The admission costs me, but it feels important. “Not many men would have done that.”
“Not many men have spent fifteen years learning the difference between wanting something and deserving it.” His smile is tinged with sadness. “Go home, Regina. Be safe. Don’t take unnecessary risks.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I’ve no doubt about that.” He’s still smiling as I slide into my car, and I carry that image with me as I drive away—Mauricio Barone, silver-haired and dangerous, watching me leave with a glint of mischief in his eyes.
The house is quiet when I slip in through the service entrance, using the route I’ve mapped out over years of sneaking in and out for various rebellions. The kitchen is dark, the staff long since retired for the evening.
I’m almost to the main staircase when the lights flick on.
Rosalia stands in the hallway, resplendent in a silk robe, her expression calculating and cold.
“Out late, aren’t we?” She moves closer, and I catch the scent of her perfume—expensive, cloying, making me want to gag. “Your father was asking after you at dinner. I told him you were feeling unwell, retreating to your room early.”
“Thank you.” I keep my voice neutral, assessing the threat. “I went for a drive. Needed to clear my head.”
“A drive.” She repeats the words like they taste suspicious. “In that part of town? The tracking app on your phone says you spent forty-five minutes in a parking garage near the warehouse district.”
Ice floods my veins. The tracking app. I’d forgotten Father insisted on installing it after the last “security incident.”
“I stopped for coffee.” The lie comes easily after years of practice. “Lost track of time.”
“In a parking garage?” Rosalia’s smile is sharp, predatory. “How fascinating. And here I thought coffee shops had seating.”
We stare at each other, two women who’ve spent years in this house navigating around each other like opposing forces. She’s never cared about my comings and goings before—this sudden interest means she wants something.
“What do you want, Rosalia?”
“Direct. I appreciate that.” She gestures toward Father’s study. “Walk with me. We need to discuss a few things.”
Every instinct screams not to follow her, but refusing would raise more suspicion. I trail her into the study, noting how she closes the door with deliberate care.
“I have a problem.” She settles into Father’s chair with the confidence of someone who’s been planning this moment. “Several problems, actually. And you’re going to help me solve them.”
“I’m not interested in whatever scheme—”
“Your father doesn’t know about your late-night excursions yet.
” Her interruption is casual, deadly. “The tracking data, the credit card receipts from strange locations, the way you’ve been accessing files you shouldn’t have clearance for.
I’ve been collecting evidence, waiting for the right moment. ”
My blood runs cold. “You’ve been spying on me.”
“I’ve been protecting my interests.” She leans forward. “See, Regina, I’ve always known you were smarter than you pretended. That perfect daughter act is very convincing, but I recognized a fellow performer when I saw one. The question was what you were performing for.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please.” She waves away my protest. “I know you’ve been gathering intelligence on your father. I don’t know why, and frankly, I don’t care. What I care about is that you’re going to help me with my own situation, or I tell Sabino everything.”
“What situation?” The words taste like defeat.
“I’ve been embezzling.” She states it like discussing the weather. “For three years now, skimming from his eastern operations, hiding it in offshore accounts. I’ve been very careful, but your father’s recent financial audit means my activities might be discovered.”
“You’re stealing from him.” I can’t keep the shock from my voice. “Do you have any idea what he’ll do if he finds out?”
“The same thing he’ll do when he discovers his precious daughter has been meeting with his enemies.” Her smile is vicious. “So you’re going to help me hide my tracks. Use that impressive hacking ability to make the numbers add up. And in exchange, I’ll keep your secrets.”
“This is blackmail.”
“This is survival.” She stands, moving around the desk with predatory grace. “We’re both trapped in this house, Regina. We’re both playing roles for a man who sees us as property. The difference is I’ve been smart enough to plan for my escape. Now you’re going to help me complete it.”
My mind races through options, all of them bad. If I refuse, she exposes me to Father, and everything I’ve risked with Mauricio becomes worthless. If I agree, I’m complicit in her theft, giving her even more leverage.
“How much time do I have?”
“Three days.” She hands me a flash drive—another one, because apparently my life is now measured in encrypted data. “Everything you need is here. Bank accounts, transaction records, the amounts I need you to hide. Make it clean, make it untraceable, and we both get what we want.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then we both lose.” Her expression hardens. “But I think you’ll find a way. After all, you’ve been managing to fool your father for years. This should be simple in comparison.”
She leaves me alone in the study, the flash drive heavy in my hand.
I sink into the chair she vacated, staring at the device that represents yet another cage, another manipulation, another person trying to control me through fear and leverage.
My phone buzzes with a message on the encrypted app Mauricio set up.
Got home safe?
Three words. Simple concern wrapped in professional distance. But something about them—about knowing he’s checking on me, that someone cares whether I make it back alive—makes my chest tighten with emotion I can’t afford.
Safe. Complications arose. Will explain at next meeting.
His response comes quickly.
How bad?
Manageable.
That’s not reassuring.
I can handle it.
The typing indicator appears, disappears, appears again. Finally:
Be careful, Regina. Whatever’s happening, don’t take unnecessary risks.
Too late for that. I’m working with you, remember?
Fair point. Get some sleep. We’ll talk soon.
I stare at the screen, at this fragment of connection with a man who represents both my greatest risk and my best chance at freedom. Then I look at Rosalia’s flash drive, at the evidence of her crimes that she expects me to hide.
Three days to solve her problem while maintaining my cover, feeding information to Mauricio, and not getting killed by Father if any of this unravels.
I delete the message thread, erase all evidence of communication, and open my laptop.
Time to see exactly what Rosalia’s been doing and whether I’m smart enough to save both our necks.
Or whether this is the mistake that finally brings everything crashing down.