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“There’s one more piece of the disguise.” He moved toward her, one hand in his pant pocket.

Kat glanced down at herself, suddenly uncertain. “What did I forget?”

Two gold bands gleamed in his palm.

Wedding rings.

Of course.

Korolov knew her face, but married couples drew less scrutiny.

His fingers were warm as they took hers and slid the ring onto her finger.

Neither of them spoke.

He held her hand longer than necessary, thumb brushing her knuckles before letting go.

“We’re officially Niko and Alisa Ivchenko. Norwegian shipping dynasty. I’m the money, you’re the language. Your Russian is flawless?”

“Da,” she confirmed, grateful for the pivot. “Native level. One of my specialties.”

“Good.” He picked up his phone, glanced at the screen. “Car’s waiting downstairs. Black Bentley, driven by one of Brock’s associates. We’ll arrive at The Platinum Club at exactly nine, when the registration for the tournament begins.”

Kat nodded, mentally reviewing the plan. “Establish presence. I’ll engage Korolov while you plant the cloning device on his phone. Then we extract with his data, avoiding confrontation.”

“That’s the plan.” Leo’s bow tie remained undone, a small imperfection in his otherwise immaculate appearance.

“Your tie.” She stepped close, fingers finding the silk.

He didn’t move.

The tie fluttered between them, the back of her hand brushing his chest—warm through the crisp shirt. His throat worked a careful swallow and his breath stirred across her skin.

“There.” She retreated, skin tingling. “All done.” She reached for the evening wrap she’d also purchased that afternoon. “We should go.”

The elevator descended smoothly to the ground floor. They stood side by side, not speaking. Kat watched the floor numbers tick down, focusing on the task ahead rather than the man beside her.

The black Bentley waited at the curb, its engine running silently. The driver, a man with the build and alertness of ex-military, opened the rear door as they approached.

Leo’s palm settled at the small of her back as she slid into the leather interior. He followed, sitting close enough that his thigh pressed against hers. The car pulled away from the curb, merging smoothly into London’s evening traffic.

“Nervous?”

Kat shook her head. “Focused.”

“Good.” His hand covered hers where it rested on the seat between them. “Stay that way.”

London blurred past in streaks of gold and shadow. In the window’s reflection, their eyes met. For a heartbeat, she forgot about Korolov, about Eldridge, about everything except the way he was looking at her.

Like she was worth protecting.Something worth losing everything for.

And for one reckless second, she believed the fiction. Not the mission, not the cover—but that the man beside her was truly hers.

22

Leo checkedthe screen one last time. The cloning software Brock had installed pulsed silently, a single icon blinking like a countdown beneath the bland interface. He slipped the phone into the inner pocket of his tuxedo and adjusted the tiny earpiece.

They were flying dark tonight—just him, Kat, and Brock. More bodies on the ground meant better odds, but also more exposure and more chances to blow Kat’s cover.