The clock on the wall of the executive suite ticked with a quiet, expensive precision. 10:34 AM. I had been out of the shower for twenty minutes, draped in a blue robe watching Kyle through the open double doors of his office. He was already on his third espresso, three phones spread across his desk like a war map.
He looked immaculate. The tailor had arrived, the medical team had patched his leg with a "seamless" stitch, and he was back in a charcoal suit that made him look like he'd never even heard of a sewer.
"You're staring, Valentina," he said, not even looking up from his tablet. "It's unprofessional. If you're done playing with the bath bubble, come in here. We have work to do."
I walked in, my damp hair clinging to the robe I didn't sit. I leaned against the doorframe, my arms crossed. "Work? You mean you're going to bark more orders while I stand around looking like a trophy?"
Kyle finally looked up. His eyes traveled slowly from my bare feet up to my face, his expression one of bored, cold appraisal. "I don't keep trophies that talk back as much as you do. You're here because Moretti just sent a courier to the front gate. He didn't send a letter. He sent a finger."
My stomach did a slow roll, but I didn't let my face change. "Whose?"
"One of my dock managers," Kyle said, his voice as flat as a dial tone. He stood up, walking around the desk. He didn't stop until he was in my personal space, his scent of sandalwood and power hitting me He's calling my bluff. He thinks because I went into hiding last night, I'm weak. He thinks the 'Ghost of Rome' has finally scared the heir out of his throne."
He reached out, his hand sliding under my damp hair to grip the back of my neck. His thumb pressed firmly against my jaw, forcing me to look up at him.
"I'm going to the exchange at the shipping yard at noon," he rasped. "And you're going to be on my arm. You're going to look like the most satisfied, well-kept woman in Italy. You're going to show him that I didn't just survive his ambush—I thrived in it."
"You want me to play the happy little girlfriend while people are losing fingers?" I spat, trying to pull away.
His grip tightened. "I want you to be the distraction. While he's looking at you—at the diamond I put around your neck—my men are going to be taking out his supply lines in the harbor. You're the lure, Val. Try to look the part. Or is that too much to ask from a girl who usually works in the dark?"
"You're a monster, Kyle."
"I'm a Vanguard," he corrected, his lips curving into a cruel, arrogant smirk. He let go of my neck and pulled a black velvet box from his pocket, tossing it onto the desk. "Put those on. They match the collar. And get dressed. My driver is waiting. If you're a second late, I'll deduct it from the 'freedom' you think you've earned."
He walked past me, intentionally brushing his shoulder against mine so hard I stumbled. He didn't look back. He headed for the elevator, already on the phone again, talking about "liquidation" as if he hadn't just used me as a human shield.
I looked at the velvet box. Inside were two teardrop diamonds, cold and brilliant.
"Enjoy the view while you can, Kyle," I whispered to the empty room. "Because the higher you sit on that throne, the further I have to drop you."