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“I want to make sure you understand…”
I don’t even let him finish. “I do. I’ve said that…”
“If you’re staying, we do this my way," he interrupts.
Silence stretches between us. I glare at his back, but when I speak, my voice is soft, measured. “Okay.”
He turns then, and the weight of his gaze pins me in place. Daring me to back down.
“You need to be very sure of that answer, Cherise. I’m not the same man you knew.”
His words slice through me, but I don’t flinch.
"I’m not the same woman you once knew either,” I say, my voice steady, even as something flickers behind his eyes. Recognition. A silent acknowledgment that the past we left behind is dead. “But I understand.”
He shifts his attention back to the screens. “Hector’s been moving erratically. He’s covering his tracks, but he’s also desperate. My team has eyes on a few of his men. Logan is already running intercepts on his accounts. We’ll have something solid soon.”
“And Vallois?”
Nick meets my gaze, his expression unreadable. “He’s untouchable. For now.”
My stomach knots. “Which means I’m not safe.”
“No, you’re most definitely not.”
And then he moves—closes the space between us in two strides, invading my world, my air, my sanity.
"But you will be."
My breath catches. I feel the moment of hesitation, the moment I realize just how much control I’m surrendering by trusting him. I should be afraid. I should tell him to go to hell. Instead, I do something far more dangerous.
“I never stopped loving you, Nick.”
His whole body goes rigid. For a fraction of a second, something raw flickers across his face, something dangerous, reckless, unguarded—but it’s gone before I can name it.
“I don’t want to hear that,” he grits out. “This isn’t the time. I can’t let it mean anything.”
Except we both know it does.
He exhales slowly, watching me, weighing the distance between what we were and what we are now. Then he turns back to the screens, issuing his next command without looking at me.
"Activate full surveillance on Hector Pardo. I want every conversation, every movement tracked. Vallois is a phantom, but we don’t stop digging until we find the chink in his armor." He pauses before adding, "And double the security around Opus Noir. They’ll be looking for Cherise. I have her in the club right now."
A female voice—his assistant, perhaps?—speaks calmly through the comms. "Already on it."
Nick cuts the feed, then turns to me with that same unreadable expression. “Welcome to the game, Cherise.”
My lips part, my breath catching as I realize just how deep I’m in. How far past the point of no return I already am.
My heart pounds, but I hold my ground. "You think this is a game? This is my life, Nick, and you don’t get to act like I don’t exist."
He’s pissed. I can tell he’s barely reining in his irritation. "I need to act like a professional. I need to keep you alive, Cherise. You don’t have to like me to be grateful for that."
My jaw tightens. “Grateful?” I scoff, heat flashing through me. "You think I should be grateful that you’re treating me like just another day at the office? Grateful that you let me think you were dead for ten years?”
His expression darkens, and then he moves again—closing the distance between us in an instant.
I suck in a breath as he towers over me, the scent of him, the sheer force of his presence a visceral assault on my senses.