Chapter 9
NINE
STELLAN
Long fucking day.
I’d slept about as well as expected, so like utter garbage, and smiled at enough customers that my face felt like it had been lacquered into place. Fourth time at Matt’s place—enough for novelty to fade, not enough to settle into something wholly familiar when I stepped out of the elevator.
High ceilings, orchids, low jazz beats, and a precisely folded throw across the back of the couch. Didn’t feel like Matt’s doing. Reid’s even less. Night outside the windows turned the glass into mirrors that reflected the room, city lights bleeding faintly through.
I’d hoped for a moment alone with Matt before the rest arrived. No such luck, though—Reid welcomed me. At least if his sardonically wry “Look who made it” counted as such.
“Some of us have jobs with normal hours,” I told him, kneeling to take off my shoes while he watched, head tilted as if I were a particularly curious specimen.
“My condolences,” he said, and Matt’s voice floated from further along the hallway.
“Stop being an asshole, Reid.”
“You’re asking me to go against my very nature,” Reid called back. “You don’t pay me that fucking well, buddy.”
It drew a tiny snort from me. Reid caught it, and for just an instant, amusement glinted in his eyes. Then he shifted back to an air of bored irritation with the world at large and me in particular.
“Come on, then,” he drawled. “Your friend’s already here. Thanks a lot for that, by the way.”
“Thought you’d be delighted.” I followed him even though I knew the way. “You two are very alike.”
He slid me a glance over his shoulder. “Enlighten me.”
“Sharks among mere mortals,” I said, and he digested that for a second, then grinned at me, teeth sharp.
“I’m starting to like you just a little.”
“Don’t scare me like that.”
He huffed out a breath that sat in the rough neighborhood of a laugh.
We found Matt and Naomi in the kitchen, perched opposite each other at the jutting wood-topped end of the island like a study in contrasts.
Naomi could have walked straight out of a magazine, one leg crossed over the other on her bar stool, while Matt was in a loose T-shirt and gray sweats, hand curled around a mug.
He met my eyes when I walked in, his whole face softening for a moment so short it might have been wishful thinking.
Didn’t stop the bright, abrupt pull in my gut.
Not casual. Not for me.
Him? He’d said it wasn’t that simple anymore—that things had changed since my first time here.
It felt like a sign that he wasn’t walking away from my mess, but then, he was the type to take a problem personally.
And it wasn’t like he had ten other guys lined up to take my place. So, who the fuck knew.
I squeezed Naomi’s arm as I passed and took the stool next to Matt, thought about letting my knee bump his and didn’t feel confident enough to actually do it here, with Reid and Naomi watching.
Reid straddled the fourth stool with an expression that suggested he’d destroyed three whole nations since breakfast, just for the fun of it.
“All right,” he said loudly. “Let’s get this party started.”
“Wine first,” Naomi said, nodding at a bottle of red that sat uncorked in the middle of the kitchen island, next to three thin-stemmed glasses.
“Sorry.” Matt reached for the bottle. “Who wants some?”
“Hell yeah,” Reid said.
“Same,” Naomi said, while I hesitated.
“You’re not having any?” I asked Matt.
His dark eyes stayed on me for a second. “I don’t drink during the season. Discipline, remember?”
It pinged something—an echo, a memory. Chicago. I exhaled and smiled through the headache sitting right between my eyes. “Still think it’ll reward you with clear skin and inner peace?”
“Any day now.” He poured three glasses as if he’d decided I could use it, and when he handed me one, I let my fingers linger on his just long enough to make a point. Reid sighed, as if utterly put-upon.
“Okay, everyone. If we could all just focus for a minute here?” He didn’t wait for a reply, just flattened both hands on the counter and looked at me. “Stellan. Start with the background. The origin story, or whatever the fuck. But leave out the boring stuff.”
“I’m sure you’ll stop me,” I said, and caught another glimpse of humor tucked into the corners of his mouth.
“Rest assured. So?”
Right. The beginning. I took a sip of wine that hit harder than it should. No surprise, maybe, what with how I hadn’t eaten much today.
“I was nineteen when I started,” I said.
“Answered an ad that sounded vague and mostly legal, and I needed the money. Fast.” I shrugged and didn’t look at anyone in particular, studied the walnut grain of the countertop.
“Ronan was still in school, and I was… not exactly swamped with offers. They knew how to spot us, I guess. Like ‘are you able to charm a room and desperate enough not to ask why it’s easy money?’”
“Pretty marketable combination.” Naomi’s tone was breezy, but I knew her story wasn’t too far off mine. The agency knew how to pick ’em. “High-end problem solving, that’s how they pitch it.”
“Jesus,” Reid said, dry. “I’ve just come to hate them even more.”
Next to me, Matt shifted. “Sounds like one of those high-performance consultants who promise to find hidden edges for a fortune.”
It tugged a tiny smile out of me. “Maybe. Except a little more shady. Like… they called it background intel.” I raised one shoulder. “Discreet evidence-gathering, interpersonal situations. Tidy words for what’s basically rich people’s messes.”
“It starts out small enough,” Naomi said, a little quieter now. “Talk to this person at that party, give us your impression. Easy. Next time you’re asked to flirt, just to check for a reaction. Then there’s a camera, but don’t worry about it. And you keep going because it’s easier.”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat, felt Matt’s gaze heavy on me, but didn’t look up. “Until it isn’t.”
The room went briefly quiet, nothing but jazzy beats and the sense that we were high above the city, untouchable for now.
“You were nineteen?” Matt asked then, voice low.
I shrugged. “Yeah. Eighteen for Naomi.”
“That’s nasty,” Reid said, only it didn’t seem directed at her or me. “That age—like, seriously. You’re still half a kid. I mean, yeah, Matt got drafted at eighteen, but he didn’t make the league until two years later. At that age, that’s a lifetime.”
“Yeah, well.” I let it sit for a second, glancing up just long enough to catch Reid’s frown.
Next to me, Matt shifted almost imperceptibly closer.
“They liked us young, especially the girls. I stayed too long because it paid well and because once you’re in, the whole thing slides into something normal. ”
“Also,” Naomi said with just a hint of her usual bite, “everyone who hires an agency like that is rich enough, dramatic, and vaguely terrible.”
“Sounds like Talia,” Reid commented, dry as dust, and Matt ducked his head with a humorless snort.
“She was hurt,” he said. “And angry.”
“She seemed sweet at first glance,” Naomi said, and right, yeah—I’d almost forgotten they’d met. “Anyway, the point is, you tell yourself you’re just helping them formalize whatever ugly thing they were going to do anyway.”
I swallowed a mouthful of wine that was likely expensive and tasted bland. “It kind of worked,” I said. “Until I realized I was about to become an accessory to outing a closeted NHL star. Made me trip right over my moral line. Slightly late, maybe, but still.”
“How very inconvenient for them,” Reid said.
“They sure thought so.”
“And now they’re worried you’ll make their whole beautiful house of cards collapse because you’re talking to the same guy who made you grow a spine?” Reid’s voice wasn’t actually unkind, more darkly amused with a core of steel.
I blew out a breath. “Something like that, I guess.”
Naomi propped one elbow on the counter, wine glass balanced elegantly in her hand.
“Look, the agency survives on three things: discretion, clients with money, and the ability to make people feel small and replaceable. They don’t want their methods dragged into the light.
” Her gaze flicked from me to Matt. “They sure wouldn’t want a former target to learn too much.
Especially not one who holds some sway.”
“I feel seen,” Matt said flatly.
“The good news, though?” Naomi paused. “They really did have a weird client-first code. It wasn’t moral, obviously. More brand management than ethics. But if a client demanded deletion of materials, especially after settlement language or an NDA, they complied. That was part of the sell.”
Something in Reid’s face shifted, like he’d scented the air. “Excellent. Talia’s agreement puts responsibility on her for deletion and non-disclosure. She was a lot of things, but flaky wasn’t one of them. She’d have asked them to vanish the evidence.”
“That’s good,” I said quickly, chest a little wider. “That’s really good.”
“They still know enough to be dangerous,” Reid said, then exhaled. “But, yes. It’s good.”
Matt’s mouth curved. “Did you two just agree on something?”
“It was bound to happen eventually,” Reid told him, while I tucked a smile into my glass that faded almost as soon as it had come. Fuck, I was tired, hadn’t managed to keep down much all day, stomach knotted far too tightly.
Time to jump. Face the music. Atone for my sins.
Time to stop stalling.
“Actually…” I glanced at Matt, and, fuck.
I’d signed all sorts of paperwork with the agency.
But I also owed him. And had spent half the night staring at my ceiling, looking for an easy way out and coming up empty.
“Let’s say they didn’t delete the photos.
I mean, maybe they did. Hopefully. But if they didn’t, then…
” I inhaled. “Then maybe I should take that off the board.”
Naomi focused on me, and I could tell she got it, her expression tilting proud and sad at once. Reid stilled, while next to me, Matt shifted like he’d completely honed in. “What does that mean?”