13. Finn
Finn
Iwatch Sophie from my office as she chats with Celine.
Through the glass wall, I can see them clearly, Celine animated and warm, gesturing with her coffee cup as she explains something, Sophie nodding along with that shy, uncertain smile. The nervous new employee, eager to please, grateful for the guidance.
I have to give it to her. She’s a master.
Sophie the assistant is nothing like Sylvie. Who was nothing like the real Sophie, the one who showed up at that first meeting with hollow eyes and a voice like a sharpened blade.
How could this be the same woman I met at the gala?
The woman at the bar that night had an air of quiet confidence, a stillness that drew me in before I even realized what was happening. She looked at me in a way that made me feel, for just a moment, like she actually knew me.
This Sophie, the shy new assistant, is different again. She fidgets with her sleeve, ducks her head when Celine compliments her. When she laughs, it’s a light, musical sound that carries faintly through the glass, nothing like the low, knowing chuckle I remember from that terrace.
And the clothes she’s wearing. It’s all so... girly.
A lavender blouse with delicate buttons, fastened all the way up to her throat. A cream-colored skirt that falls past her knees.
It suits her, I suppose. She looks pretty, harmless and approachable, exactly as she intended, I suspect.
She should have become an actress, really. She’d have been brilliant at it.
She certainly has the looks for it.
I can still clearly remember seeing her for the first time at the gala.
She was sitting at the bar, one leg crossed over the other, a champagne flute dangling loosely from her fingers, looking around with that air of nonchalance, like she had all the time in the world.
I noticed her the moment she entered the room.
And up close, she was even more striking.
It was her eyes, I decided. Those were her best feature, dark and luminous and full of secrets I wanted to unravel. And those lips, painted red that night, curved in a smile that promised everything and nothing.
God, that kiss.
A warmth spreads through me as the memory surfaces. The softness of her mouth. The electric shock that ran through my entire body when our lips met.
Shit, I need to get laid.
I shift in my chair. Friday can’t come soon enough. Maybe then I’ll stop thinking about a kiss that clearly meant a hell of a lot more to me than it did to her.
She said she was undercover and working a case. And judging by the way she asked about my last name, the panic that flashed across her face when she realized I wasn’t whoever she was actually looking for, she’d clearly mistaken me for a target.
I wonder what she would have done to me if I had been the right guy.
The thought sends a chill down my spine. And yet somehow, it only makes her more interesting.
Which is fucked up.
I try to shake it off, but I can’t.
It seems absolutely insane that the woman who accidentally targeted me at a charity gala a couple of weeks ago turns out to be the same woman Sentinel assigns to investigate our security breach.
The moment I saw her walk into Max’s office yesterday, it was like a punch to the gut.
For a second, I thought I was hallucinating.
Stress and sleep deprivation finally catching up with me.
But no, Sophie was real. As real as an undercover agent can be, anyway, when her entire existence is built on playing roles.
That’s the part that irks me most.
She must have done this a hundred times. With a hundred different alphas. The flirtatious conversation, the lingering glances, the kiss that feels like the start of something real. All of them, I have no doubt, fell for it completely.
Just like I did.
I was just another mark. Another name on a list of targets she’s manipulated and discarded. And I hate that it bothers me at all.
Because it means the kiss meant nothing to her. The conversation we had about books, about finding something real, about feeling insignificant under the stars. None of it was genuine. She was playing a part, reading from a script, telling me exactly what I wanted to hear.
And I bought every word like a lovesick idiot.
That annoys the hell out of me. It also makes me angry at myself for falling for it so easily. I’m not some naive kid who’s never been around women. I’m Finn Preston, CMO of a billion-dollar company, part of one of the most sought-after packs in the country.
But this one woman, this one infuriating, deceptive, impossibly beautiful woman, made me feel like I was special. Like our connection was unique.
What a fucking joke.
I check my watch. Five minutes until the meeting in Max’s office.
When I look up again, Sophie is gone. Her desk is empty, Celine already turning back to her own work.
I push myself up from my chair and head for Max’s office.
Max and Ethan are already there when I arrive. Max is behind his desk, reviewing something on his laptop. Ethan is in one of the leather chairs facing him, legs crossed, looking relaxed in that quiet, watchful way of his.
“Finn.” Max nods without looking up. “Close the door behind you.”
I’m about to when Sophie appears in the doorway.
Up close, I can see her blouse is silk, catching the light every time she moves. Fastened primly to the throat, like some kind of Victorian governess. And for one long moment I imagine undoing those buttons. One by one. Slowly. Watching the fabric fall away to reveal—
Fuck. Stop.
I force my gaze away, but it lands on her hair instead. Down today, falling in soft waves around her face. Just like that night at the gala. Is she doing this on purpose? Trying to remind me of what I can’t have?
She moves past me to take a seat, and as she does, I catch a whiff of her scent.
Nothing.
Well, not nothing exactly. There’s something there, faint and clean, like fresh linen. Nothing like the intoxicating scent I caught traces of that night on the terrace, rain and crushed rose petals that made my head spin.
I close the door and take my position behind the couch opposite her, standing while Max and Ethan sit. From here, I have a clear view of her face.
Those eyes. Fuck. Those eyes will be the death of me.
I clear my throat, as if that will somehow clear the thoughts crowding my head.
“Sophie.” Max closes his laptop and folds his hands on the desk. “Thank you for being prompt. We’d like an update on your progress and your plan going forward.”
She sits up straighter, the nervous new employee gone entirely, replaced by the sharp, focused woman from that first meeting.
“I’ve already passed on the personnel files to Sentinel,” she says. “They’re running background checks on everyone with access to sensitive areas. I should hear back today or tomorrow.”
“You’ll let us know as soon as you have results,” Max says. It’s not a question.
“Yes,” she says, her voice flat and professional. “I will.”
“And in the meantime?” Ethan leans forward, his gray eyes intent behind his glasses.
“The most crucial thing right now is to do a sweep for bugs or listening devices.” Sophie’s gaze moves between the three of us, assessing.
“If someone has eyes or ears inside this building, everything we do is compromised. I need to check every room and every surface that could conceal a transmitter.”
“How long will that take?” Max asks.
“A couple of nights, at least. I’ll start tonight.”
“The security cameras,” Ethan says slowly. “If you’re sweeping the building at night, Nathan’s team will see you on the monitors.”
“They can’t know about this,” Sophie agrees. “Which means you’ll need to disable the cameras during my sweeps. System maintenance, software updates, whatever excuse works. The fewer people who know what I’m actually doing here, the better.”
Max and Ethan exchange a glance.
“We’ll handle Nathan,” Max says finally.
He turns back to Sophie. “In the meantime, we’re putting you on rotation through the different departments.
Marketing first, then research, clinical, IT.
The idea is that you’re shadowing different teams to get a better understanding of the business before you start your official role as our assistant. ”
“The perfect cover to get close to everyone.” Sophie nods.
“Exactly.” Max leans back in his chair. “For today, you’ll continue working with Celine. She’s been here longer than most, knows everyone, hears everything. If there’s gossip to be had, she’ll have it.”
“Perfect.” Sophie closes her notebook and tucks it back into her bag. “Anything else?”
“Just one thing.” Max’s green eyes fix on her face. “I want at least one of us present during the sweeps. If you find something, I want to know about it immediately.” He pauses. “No one moves through this building at night unsupervised. Not even you.”
For a second, Sophie’s eyes blaze, a flash of annoyance at being told what she can’t do. Then it’s gone, wiped clean before I can be sure I saw it.
“Fine,” she says. “We’ll start tonight. Eight o’clock, back entrance. Don’t be late.”
She rises from her chair without waiting for a response, smoothing her skirt with quick, efficient movements.
“Ms. Dysart,” Max says, and she pauses at the door. “Welcome to Synthera.”
Her smile is brief and doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Cavill.”
Then she’s gone, leaving nothing but the faint ghost of that clean, forgettable scent and the uncomfortable heat still pooling in my gut.
Ethan turns to look at me, one eyebrow raised.
“You alright, Finn? You’ve barely said a word.”
“Fine.” I push off from the back of the couch, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
About dark eyes and red lips and a kiss that meant nothing.
“About how long this investigation is going to take,” I say instead. “And whether Friday can come any faster.”
Max says nothing, but the look he gives me speaks volumes. Ethan just shakes his head, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
For a moment, I consider telling them.
They know about the woman from the gala. I told them about her that night, came home unable to stop talking about dark eyes and a conversation that felt real, about a kiss that ended too soon and a woman who vanished before I could get her number.
I think I met someone, I’d said, and Max had raised an eyebrow while Ethan smiled that quiet, knowing smile of his.
She just... left? Max had asked.
Something spooked her. I don’t know what.
They’d teased me about it for days. The mystery woman. The one who got away. Finn Preston, finally knocked off his feet, and she didn’t even stick around to see it.
I could tell them now. That the mystery woman and our new undercover agent are the same person. That the kiss that’s been haunting me ever since came from a trained operative who kissed the wrong man and disappeared.
But something stops me.
Pride, probably. Embarrassment, definitely. And the fact that the second I say it out loud, they’ll have questions I’m not ready to answer.
Or maybe it’s something I don’t even understand yet myself.
“Finn?” Ethan is watching me with that patient, curious look he gets when he’s trying to figure something out.
“I’m fine,” I say again, and this time I almost believe it. “Just tired. Long week.”
Max grunts, already turning back to his laptop. “It’s only Tuesday.”
“Like I said. Long week.”
I leave before either of them can ask any more questions.
Because I can’t tell them the truth.
The truth is, every time I look at Sophie, I feel like I’m losing my mind.