Chapter 48 Geneva
GENEVA
SARAH IS IN MY APARTMENT.
With them.
I can’t breathe.
My best friend is sitting in my living room with her arms crossed, her brow raised, and her eyes flicking between Ghost and Benedetto. And then to the chaos on the table like she’s trying to decide whether I’ve been brainwashed, taken hostage, or fully lost my mind.
To be fair, it’s probably all three.
Ghost doesn’t move. Which is somehow worse than if he had. He just watches her with that unnerving stillness. Benedetto looks entertained, but his amusement is usually derived from someone dying.
Sarah is my best friend. The kind of person who leaves work mid-shift if I say the word “emergency.” She’s loyal. Smart. Absolutely trustworthy. And now she’s a liability.
Shit.
I sit on the couch between Sarah and Ghost, smiling while trying not to look like I’m mentally calculating how to keep her alive. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“It looks like you’re plotting something illegal with a literal psychopath and a man…” Sarah turns to Benedetto. “Who are you exactly?”
“Benedetto,” he says. “Friend of the doc. Definitely not involved in anything prosecutable. I’m in logistics.”
Ghost rolls his eyes. “Have you forgotten what you did to ‘the fixer’?”
“Still logistics,” Benedetto says, sipping his whiskey.
I clear my throat. “We’re… working on something sensitive. Can we talk later?”
Sarah shakes her head. “If you’re in danger, I’m not leaving.”
“Geneva,” Ghost says quietly, without looking away from her. Just my name, but I hear the underlying warning in it. He’s letting me handle this. Which is terrifying because I know what it means if I don’t.
I take my friend’s hands in mine, squeezing gently before withdrawing. “Sarah, listen to me. I know you’re concerned. And I know you think I’ve lost my mind, but I haven’t.”
Her brows pull together. “Then explain what’s going on. Because from where I’m standing, you’re sitting next to a convicted serial—”
“He saved my life. Remember?”
She sighs. “I do.”
“I’ll be honest with you. What happened in New Orleans wasn’t just me running off. I was chasing a lead that had to do with my parents’ murders. Ghost is helping me.”
Sarah’s eyes dart to Benedetto. “And him?”
“He’s an independent consultant in strategic persuasion,” I say, with as much dignity as I can muster.
Benedetto winks over his glass. “Happy to provide references.”
“Don’t,” I mutter.
Sarah exhales. “So you’re saying you’re not in danger?”
“No. Ghost is still protecting me.”
She runs her scrutinizing gaze over me and then Ghost. My muscles tense. To hide my unease, I reach for the glass of whiskey Benedetto poured for me earlier and take a large sip.
Ghost doesn’t touch me, but his eyes follow my every movement. His gaze is almost palpable, a phantom touch that never fails to brand me.
“Oh, my God,” Sarah breathes. “You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”
Ghost shrugs. “Well, not right now.”
I groan, pointedly ignoring how my cheeks are getting warmer. “Shut. Up. Ghost.”
Sarah looks like she’s reconsidering all her life choices. “Do I need to call your therapist? Or the FBI?”
“They’re my friends.”
She scoffs. “Friends who drink in your kitchen and look like they’ve buried bodies for fun?”
“Fun is subjective,” Benedetto says.
Sarah stares at him. “That’s not comforting.”
Benedetto smiles and takes another sip of his drink like he’s at brunch in a country club.
I wave a hand in dismissal. “Don’t mind him. He thrives on moral ambiguity.”
“And whiskey,” Benedetto adds. “But mostly ambiguity.”
Ghost stretches his arm across the back of the couch, his fingertips grazing my shoulder. “You’re still alive, aren’t you? That has to count for something.”
Sarah pinches the bridge of her nose. “It does, but I want to stay that way.”
“Then trust me,” I say. “Everything is under control.”
“That’s hard to believe when you’re sitting next to a guy who once made the national news for replacing a guy’s insulin with bleach.”
Ghost shrugs. “Read the label. It said, ‘Kills ninety-nine point nine percent of all problems.’”
Sarah turns to me with wide eyes. “Geneva.”
I take a deep breath and release it slowly. “We’re working on something big,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “Victor Stanton—the university benefactor, the polished billionaire with a perfect reputation—he’s the man who orchestrated my parents’ murders.”
Sarah’s expression falters, but she remains quiet. Thank God for small miracles.
“But there’s more to it,” I say. “Stanton isn’t just a murderer. He’s built an entire empire on corruption that includes illegal mining, conflict diamonds, and human trafficking. All of it has been hidden behind charities and academic grants.”
“How is all of that connected to your parents?” she asks.
“One of the workers escaped from a nearby diamond mine. My mom tried to save his life, but he was too badly wounded and ended up dying. Unbeknownst to my parents, he hid millions of dollars’ worth of uncut diamonds among their possessions.
Stanton thought they knew and sent assassins after them.
When they didn’t hand over the diamonds, they were killed. ”
“Oh, Gen, I’m so sorry.”
I fist my hands, fighting through a wave of emotion brought on by my friend’s sympathy. “We have proof. Not all of it, but that’ll be rectified soon. I want to ruin his image, along with his legacy, so that the only thing associated with his name is murder.”
My gaze meets hers, despite the way my chest is tightening. “That’s why Ghost is here. Why Benedetto is here. And why I didn’t tell you what’s going on. I want you to be safe. You’re the only family I have.”
“Excuse the fuck out of me.” Ghost grabs the back of my neck and yanks me to him. “Care to repeat that, Doc?”
I look up at him, breathing in the scent of him, soaking in the intensity that seeps from his body. “You know what I meant.”
He narrows his eyes, and his grip tightens at the base of my neck, thumb brushing over my pulse to remind me he’s the reason it’s there.
“Say it,” he murmurs, low enough so that only I can hear. “You’re mine, Geneva. This isn’t conditional. Or temporary. We both know that.”
The world disappears until it’s just him and me and the heat that always floods my veins when he speaks to me like that.
“You’re not family,” I whisper. “You’re everything.”
He brushes his mouth over mine in a kiss that’s barely there. Just breath and tension and the promise that’s waiting for us on the other side of survival. He pulls back before I can lean in. It’s a small punishment.
Then Sarah clears her throat. Loudly.
I pull away, cheeks burning, pulse racing in a whole different way now.
She’s staring at us, eyes wide. “Okay. So. That answers that.”
“Sarah—”
“No, no. I get it.” She waves a hand, but her voice softens. “I get it now. What’s happening between you two… why you didn’t tell me. Why you couldn’t.”
She looks at Ghost again, but this time with something like understanding. Not trust, maybe. But not fear either.
“You’re not just protecting her,” she says to him. “You’d burn someone alive just to keep her warm.”
Ghost nods once. Then stares at her, unblinking.
She rubs her arms. “Maybe psychopaths do make the best boyfriends. And you,” she adds, turning to me. “You’re not lost. You’re on a mission for justice.”
“And revenge.”
“If you’re going to take down that asshole Stanton, then you need a strategy,” she says. “A public one. Controlled leaks, targeted press cycles, narrative framing. And you need to start now, before he gets ahead of it.”
Ghost cocks his head, studying my friend. “You want to spin this?”
She purses her lips. “I’m a communications director. Not a miracle worker. But if you’ve got dirt, I can bury him with it.”
Benedetto lets out a low whistle. “I like her.”
I exhale. “So you’ll help?”
“Absolutely,” Sarah says. “But we’re going to need burner phones, clean email accounts, and a list of every skeleton in this guy’s walk-in closet.”
Ghost grins like it’s Christmas morning. “Welcome to the team.”
Sarah glares at him. “Thank you, but I want a helmet. And a lawyer on standby. And possibly an exorcism because I must be possessed if I’m doing this.”
Benedetto winks at her. “You’re going to fit in just fine.”