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Roman. Dominic. The Brotherhood. The Vault. What was the through line?

If Sean was right and Roman was the one who’d leaked the contract, he would be the organization’s number one target. Contract killers relied on their reputation for business; a leak of that magnitude would destroy their credibility. The public may not have a name, but those in the shadows had a way of sniffing out secrets.

If Roman was the organization’s target, why would he try to kill me on their behalf? Perhaps he’d gone rogue, but we’d never crossed paths before. He had no reason to personally want me dead.

Finally, there was that damn note.Find me before they do.Was the Brotherhood the “they” he was referring to?

My head pounded with open-ended questions and a thousand possibilities.

I couldn’t focus, so I cleaned up the range and went upstairs to my office. I kept my gun on me.

My wing of the house was separated from the main rooms by an enclosed walkway. Other than cleaning and maintenance, my staff left it alone unless I called them, which was exactly how I liked it. I’d bought this property on the Upper East Side specifically because the layout offered me more privacy than the penthouses and brownstones so many of my peers loved.

I stepped into my office, ready to tackle some of the actual work I’d been neglecting while I obsessed over the bachelor party, but the hairs on the back of my neck instantly stood up.

Something was wrong.

More specifically—someone was here.

The sixth sense that’d helped me survive multiple scrapes over the years kicked in before I even noticed the shadow on the wall, or the fact that the chair was turned the wrong way.

By the time the intruder spun to face me inmyfucking chair, I’d already raised my gun and pointed it straight at him.

He settled deeper into the chestnut leather with a smirk. “That’s not a very polite way to greet your guests.”

I cocked the hammer.

“You could shoot me.” He sounded bored. “Or you could find out why I’d risk breaking into your house.”

“I prefer option one,” I growled.

I hated wasting words on dead men walking, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to lower my weapon. Talking was the only viable way to communicate in this situation.

“So he speaks.” His smile lacked humor. “I know you know who I am, which means you also know we have a mutual interest: the Brotherhood. Like I said, you could shoot me, or you could listen to what I have to say. I have a feeling it’ll answer quite a few questions you’ve had recently.” He slowly raised his hands. “No weapons. I just want to talk.”

My finger twitched. I was tempted to pull the trigger and shoot him anyway, the Brotherhood be damned. Hell, he could be a distraction. There could be other members in the house right now, storming the halls and terrorizing my staff while I was busy in here.

It was unlikely, given the utter lack of alarms raised, but it wasn’t impossible.

The fact he’d successfully broken in was not fucking good, but I would deal with the security breach later. I had more pressing matters at hand.

He stared back at me, unflinching.

Bastard. He held a trump card, and he knew it. He was my only active link to the Brothers at the moment, which meant the satisfaction of blowing his head off wasn’t worth the intel that would die with him.

I lowered the gun an inch and gestured for him to start talking.

“That’s what I thought.” Roman Davenport leaned forward, his eyes glittering in the dying afternoon light. “Before we get into the details, I have a proposition for you.”

CHAPTER20

Ayana

“Cut!” Wentworth lowered his camera and frowned. “Ayana, babe, you’re notfocusing. Where’s the fire? Where’s the passion? Where’s theit factorthat made you Model of the Year, hmm? I don’t see it, sweetie.”

I amnotyour babeoryour sweetie.

I bit back my tart response. If I acted with anything except the utmost professionalism, I’d be labeled “difficult to work with.”