Kade stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse, a glass of scotch warming in his hand, the city spread out beneath him. He had always liked this view, the light, the movement, none of which appealed to him at the moment.
He swirled his glass slowly.
Camille.
That was all he knew about her.
He had spent the entirety of two weeks searching for her, but it was like she had vanished into thin air the moment she walked away from that balcony.
It was now past midnight, and he was still at the window, still thinking about the way she had wiped his mouth with her thumb like she was taking something back that she had decided he didn't deserve to keep.
He took a small sip of his scotch and grimaced. It tasted like hell's lava.
It didn't matter. Except that it did, and that was the part that irritated him.
He knew better than to get distracted. He had more pressing things living rent-free in his head than a dark-haired woman with soulful eyes, but why couldn't he bring himself to shove the thought of her away?
He exhaled through his nose and turned from the city.
He crossed the room to his desk. Not the one he used for his company. This one was different. Scarred at the edges, covered in things that had no business existing in the life of a legitimate CEO.
He sat down, pulled his laptop open, and stared at the investigation file for a long moment.
Then he closed it.
He opened a new window instead and typed in: The Devile Gala.
The results came back fast and told him almost nothing useful. Society pages and event coverage. A photograph from the evening already uploaded to some lifestyle publication he had never heard of.
He clicked it open.
There she was.
Standing at the edge of the room in that dress, champagne flute in hand, looking like she had already decided the entire evening was beneath her.
He smirked and read the caption.
"THE DEVILE GALA"
Among the guests in attendance were Arnold Devile, heir to the Devile Group, and many other dignitaries.
Kade skipped what he considered gibberish and read through the names, but failed to see Camille's anywhere.
He leaned back.
His jaw tightened as he pulled everything attached to the Devile Gala and read through it slowly.
Her name wasn't on the list of invitees.
He drummed his fingers against the desk.
Something was wrong, and Kade could feel it. She had given him only a first name, which could mean nothing. Or it could mean everything. He had learned a long time ago that the difference between those two things was rarely obvious until it was too late.
He let his mind go back to that night for the umpteenth time.
There had been something about her. She had scanned that ballroom the way he did. Looking for something specific without letting on that she was looking at all. He had recognized it and filed it away, and then let a dance and a balcony and the way she smelled like something warm and contradictory pull his attention somewhere less useful.
He didn't do that. He didn't get pulled.
Except apparently he did.
He reached for his phone.
---
Raphael arrived forty minutes later, which meant he had been nearby. He let himself in with the familiarity of a man already accustomed to the house.
He dropped into the chair across the desk and looked around with mild appreciation.
"Nice night for brooding."
"I'm not brooding."
"You're standing in the dark drinking scotch at midnight." Raphael tilted his head. "What would you call it?"
"Thinking."
"Right." He grinned. "What are we thinking about?"
Kade turned his laptop around without a word.
Raphael leaned forward and whistled appreciatively. "That girl's ass is fire."
Kade whacked him on the head.
"You're being sexist and she's a woman," he said, and then immediately wondered why he had bothered correcting that.
Raphael's grin widened. He was smart enough not to say anything about it.
"Alright, alright. She's a woman." He looked at the laptop again. "What's up?"
"Her name isn't on that list," Kade said. "She told me her name was Camille. Either that was a lie, or someone made sure she wasn't findable. Neither one sits right with me."
Raphael frowned and studied the names and images.
"There's just one photo of her." He scrolled further. "That's strange."
Kade snorted. "Tell me something I don't already know."
He walked to the mini bar to pour himself a drink.
Raphael picked up a pen from the desk and twirled it around.
"Is there any particular reason why you're searching for her?"
Kade shrugged. "Curiosity, perhaps."
Raphael studied him for a moment with that particular look he got when he was weighing how far to push something.
"Not because she got under your skin?"
Kade glared at him. "Therapy is not what I pay you for, Debryne."
"Don't bite now." Raphael chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "Just my curiosity. And maybe my psychic touch."
He backed off, laughing as Kade picked up a bottle of cognac. "Hey now. Calm down."
Kade put the bottle back down. "Keep your mouth shut and find out everything about her, Debryne."
He walked away from the bar. "Maybe then I'll reconsider not firing your ass for the stunt you pulled the other day."
"Come on," Raphael whined. "Let it go already. It was a harmless mistake."
"A harmless mistake?" Kade snarled. "I had to pay for your mistake. Trust me, it's coming off your wages."
"You can't do that to me," Raphael protested.
"Oh, I can," Kade snarled. "And you better get on with what I asked you to do."
Grumbling, but knowing full well that Kade wasn't going to follow through on his docking wages threat, Raphael pulled out his phone and started typing.
"I'll run her through the full channels. Might take a day or two if the gaps are deliberate."
"They are."
"They are." Raphael mimicked and fixed his face immediately Kade took another step towards him.
"Yeah," He pocketed his phone and stood, stretching with the casual ease of a man unbothered by the hour. "I'ma leave now."
He paused at the door, one hand on the frame. "For what it's worth, whatever she is, she made you call me at midnight. That's not nothing."
Kade said nothing.
Raphael left.
The city was still burning outside the window. He stood there with his second scotch and let the quiet settle back around him.
He thought about the balcony. The way she had kissed him back for those few unguarded seconds. The way she had walked away without once looking over her shoulder.
He hadn't liked that as much as he pretended to.
He set his glass down.
Camille.
He turned off the desk lamp and stood in the dark for a moment, the city the only light left in the room.
He was going to find out who she really was.
And then what?