Chapter 21
I stare at the ceiling, my body deliciously sore, tangled with Remy in his obscenely expensive sheets. The marks he left throb—badges of possession that should make me recoil. Instead, they anchor me to this moment, to him.
His words echo in my head: “I love you.” These three words could destroy everything.
My fingers find the faint scar on his hand, tracing its jagged edge. The intimacy of the gesture hits me, and I snatch my hand back. Remy’s arm tightens around my waist, a possessive claim even in sleep. His steady breathing brushes my neck, raising goosebumps I refuse to acknowledge.
Love. The word tastes bitter. What he feels isn’t love—it’s obsession, control wrapped in pretty words and prettier lies.
Yet…
Yet he touched me like I was precious. Whispered promises against my skin. Looked at me with something raw and desperate in his eyes.
“Stop thinking so loud,” Remy murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.
“Wasn’t aware thoughts had volume.”
“Yours do.” His fingers trail up my ribs. “Want to share?”
“No.”
“Liar.” He props himself up, eyes sharp despite his lazy tone. “You’re dissecting every word I said.”
“There’s nothing to dissect. You don’t love me. You love owning me.”
His jaw tightens. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know.” I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest. “Love doesn’t come with conditions. Or surveillance. Or handcuffs.”
“No?” His smile is cruel. “Then what would you call this thing between us? This force that drives you back to me, even knowing what I am?”
“Temporary insanity.”
He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “Keep lying to yourself, Eve. It’s easier than admitting you might feel something real.”
“The only real thing here is your need to control everything and everyone around you.”
His fingers grip my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “If control was all I wanted, you’d be in a cell, not my bed.”
I wrench away from his touch. “Same difference.”
I let the heavy silence wrap around us, each second ticking by with the weight of unspoken words. My mind circles back to his declaration, analyzing every inflection, every pause.
“Are you hungry?”
The question catches me off guard. I turn to study his face, searching for any hint of manipulation beneath that controlled exterior. His features remain maddeningly neutral, giving nothing away. Those dark eyes meet mine steadily, patient, waiting.
The normality of the question throws me. After everything—the accusations, the revelations, the raw intensity of last night—he asks about breakfast like we’re any normal couple on any normal morning. The absurdity of it almost makes me laugh.
I nod, not trusting my voice. The mattress shifts as Remy rises. He retrieves his black pants from a nearby chair, sliding them on with practiced ease. The simple act feels strangely intimate, more so than our heated encounters. This is Remy unguarded, or at least appearing to be.
Before I can reach for my scattered clothes, he approaches with a thick robe. The fabric looks expensive and probably costs more than a month’s rent at my old apartment. He holds it open, waiting. When I don’t move, his lips quirk slightly.
“Let me,” he says softly.
I allow him to wrap the robe around my shoulders, his touch deliberate and gentle. The tenderness in the gesture unsettles me more than any show of force could. This caring version of Remy is harder to resist and harder to hate.
His hand extends toward mine, fingers ghosting across my skin. “Come on.” A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth, transforming his usual stern expression into something warmer, almost boyish. The sight makes my chest tighten.
His fingers close around mine, tugging me from the bed. The contact sends sparks of awareness through my body, reminding me of how those same hands mapped every inch of me just hours ago.
I follow Remy through unfamiliar hallways, his hand warm against mine.
The space unfolds like a revelation—all clean lines and understated wealth.
No cameras are visible, but I know better than to assume they aren’t there.
The walls hold abstract art in muted tones, nothing personal, nothing that speaks of the man leading me forward.
“Where are we?”
Remy glances back, his profile sharp in the morning light. “One of my properties. It’s under Marcus’s name. Just a precaution.”
“A precaution for what?” I narrow my eyes, studying the tension in his shoulders.
He stops, turning to face me fully. “For if I need to disappear.” His thumb traces circles on my palm, the gentle touch at odds with his words. “And for times like these.”
The kitchen opens before us, a masterpiece of chrome and marble. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the city skyline, but the view offers no clues to our location. Remy guides me to a stool at the island, his hand lingering on my lower back before he moves to the coffee machine.
“You have bolt holes all over the city, don’t you?” I watch him measure coffee beans with precise movements. “Places where you can hide your secrets?”
“Not secrets.” The machine hums to life. “Insurance.”
“And which am I? Secret or insurance?”
His hands still on the coffee cups. “You’re neither, Eve.”
“No?” I lean forward, elbows on the cool marble. “Then what am I?”
He sets a steaming mug before me, his eyes dark and unreadable. “You know what you are.”
I wrap my fingers around the warm ceramic, anchoring myself against the storm building between us. “Do I? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like I’m just another asset you’re trying to control.”
“Is that what you think this is?” His voice carries an edge that makes my skin prickle. “Control?”
“Isn’t it?” I gesture at our surroundings. “A hidden apartment, registered under someone else’s name. No phones, no contact with the outside world. What would you call it?”
Remy braces his hands on the counter, leaning into my space. “Protection.”
The coffee steams between us, forgotten, as morning light spills across the kitchen’s pristine surfaces. We’re locked in this moment, this breathless space between truth and lies, neither willing to look away first.
I set my coffee mug down with a thud. “Where is Terrell Heath? Is he still alive?”
Remy meets my stare, his expression carved from stone. “He’s alive. I had him moved to a secure location.”
Relief floods through me before anger swallows it whole. “Why? Why all the theatrics, Remy? Why the staged drama?”
He pushes away from the counter, folding his arms across his chest. Something flickers in his eyes—doubt, maybe. The hesitation looks foreign to him, like a crack in perfect marble.
“Because when you disappeared from that night, I had no idea where you were. None.” His jaw tightens. “Do you understand what that did to me?”
“Your order to bury my investigation wasn’t an option for me, and you know it.” I grip the mug harder, letting the heat burn my palms. “That’s why I fled.”
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “Montoni was closing in, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he found you and made sure you were dead. I had to act fast.”
“So your solution was to take the contract on my head?” My voice rises, edged with disbelief.
“Yes.” His gaze doesn’t waver. “It was the only way to control the situation. To protect you.”
“Protect me?” I laugh, the sound brittle. “By making me think you’d betrayed me? By shooting me?”
“With a blank.” He takes a step closer, and I fight the urge to retreat. “Every move was calculated to keep you alive.”
“Keep me alive, or keep me under your thumb?”
His eyes darken. “Is there a difference when it comes to your father?”
The mention of Ano makes my stomach turn. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what, Eve? Don’t remind you that he’s hunting you? That he’ll tear apart this city to find you?” Remy closes the distance between us. “Or don’t remind you that I’m the only thing standing between you and a bullet?”
“I never asked for your protection.”
“No.” His fingers brush my cheek, and I hate how I lean into the touch. “But you’re getting it.”
Remy takes a step closer. His voice drops, carrying a weight that makes my skin prickle.
“I accepted the contract and staged your death. Everything Montoni wanted—streamed live over a private channel for his benefit. The blood, the sedative, all of it meticulously planned to make sure he believed you were gone.”
My throat tightens. “You’re saying—”
“Heath was already compromised. Your father found him first and threatened him. When you contacted him…” Remy’s jaw clenches. “If I hadn’t intervened, if I hadn’t taken control of that hit, you would have died last night. For real.”
My hands tremble as I grip the counter’s edge, knuckles white against the marble. The room spins slightly as I process his words. My breath comes faster, shorter. “You made it look real? You let him think he won?”
“Don’t.” His voice carries an edge of steel. “Don’t act like I had a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
Remy slams his palm against the counter, the sharp sound making me flinch.
“No, Eve. Not with this. Not with your father.” His tone turns sharper, defensive.
“It had to look real. If there was even a hint of doubt, he’d have come after you harder.
He’d have sent every cleaner he had to finish the job.
This way, he thinks you’re no longer a threat. ”
“So what?” I push back from the counter, anger rising to match his. “I’m supposed to thank you for this elaborate deception? For making me think you’d betrayed me?”
“Would you have trusted me if I’d told you the plan?”
The question hits like a punch in the sternum. We both know the answer.
“That’s what I thought.” His fingers brush my arm, and I jerk away. “Your father had to believe it, Eve. Which means you had to believe it too.”
“The blood—”
“Carefully prepared mixture. The gun—loaded with blanks.” His expression hardens. “Every detail orchestrated to convince Ano Montoni that his daughter was eliminated.”
“Heath…?”
Remy watches me intently. “I know you need him to finish what you started.”
My emotions war inside me, each fighting for dominance.
Anger burns through my veins at Remy’s deception, at being manipulated like one of his pawns.
Fear coils in my stomach when I think of Ano—my father—and what he’s capable of.
And underneath it all, an unwelcome warmth spreads through my chest at the lengths Remy went to protect me.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to contain the chaos of my feelings. “You risked everything. Your reputation, your connections…” My voice cracks. “If Ano finds out you betrayed him—”
“He won’t.” Remy’s certainty grates against my nerves.
“You don’t know him like I do.” The words taste bitter. “He’s thorough. Paranoid. He’ll want proof.”
“I gave him proof. Blood samples, DNA confirmation, even dental records.” His lips twist. “All falsified, of course. But they’ll hold up to scrutiny.”
I shake my head, memories of Ano’s meticulous nature haunting me. “And when he digs deeper? When he realizes the body was never processed at any morgue? That there’s no death certificate?”
“By then, it won’t matter.”
“So what now?” My voice trembles, betraying the fear I’m trying to hide. “What happens when he finds out?”
Remy’s expression darkens, a predatory smile curving his lips. “I don’t fucking care whether he finds out or not. That’s why you need to publish your investigation and bring him down.”
The bluntness of his statement hits me like a physical blow. I stare at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. But all I see is cold determination and something else—something that looks dangerously like devotion.
“You want me to publish?” I whisper. “Everything?”
“Every document. Every witness statement. Every piece of evidence you’ve gathered.” He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “I want you to tear his empire apart, brick by bloody brick.”