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Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I bite it none-too-gently. I don’t say what we both know; I need to graduate. If I don’t, I’ll have to go back to the place where dreams die, and wearing last season’s clothing is worse than a sex scandal in D.C.

“Tell you what, Pipes.” Lena swipes a finger through the frosting and licks it off her finger. “We need a proper night out soon since you’re clearly determined to stay in tonight. This weekend. I don’t care what you think you have to do. If you don’t live once in a while you’ll regret it.”

“But I—”

She shakes her head. “If you try to refuse one more time, I’ll make us watch The Shining again. All work and no play…” Trailing off, she swirls her hand in the air.

Laughing, I pick up a pillow and throw it toward her face. “Fine. You win. We can go out this weekend—”

“Yes!” she whoops excitedly.

“Providing I’ve found an internship,” I finish, ignoring her excitement.

Frowning, she tuts. “You really don’t know how to have fun, do you? Thank God you’re hot. Otherwise I’m not sure I’d be your friend.”

“Please,” I mutter. “You’ve been stuck with me since Intro to Comparative Politics.”

“Don’t remind me,” she grins. “I still haven’t forgiven you for bringing five shades of pink highlighter to our first lecture like a damn psychopath.”

She says it like a joke, but it’s a memory—the day we sat next to each other at American University and never stopped.

We spend the rest of the night just chilling—ordering takeout, and eventually streaming some political thriller that Lena pretends to hate but secretly enjoys. I love that genre, especially when there’s scandal and backroom deals. The dirtier the politics, the better.

When the credits roll, she yawns dramatically. “I hope you’ve put clean sheets on, because I have to sleep over.” Waggling her eyebrows, she adds, “Ah, never mind. I forgot who I was speaking to. Your bed hasn’t seen any action in months.”

I arch an eyebrow. “I’ll have you know I have a very healthy relationship with my vibrator.”

“Like that’s the same as a good dicking,” she mock-grumbles. “Seriously, when was the last time you got laid?”

“June twentieth,” I lie.

Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I got it on with anyone. It’s not that I’m not into sex, but right now, my education has to come first.

“Whatever,” she sighs. “I still have to stay over.”

“Have to?” I laugh.

She nods eagerly. “Yep. I’ve had way too many carbohydrates to drive.”

“God, yes,” I say, mock concern lacing my tone. “Don’t ever eat pasta and drive.”

After finding her a top to sleep in, she disappears into the bathroom. While she gets ready for bed, I begin my evening ritual. First, I lock the front door. Then I check every window is shut and locked before drawing the curtains. I move silently from room to room until I reach the one in my bedroom and freeze.

There’s a shadow outside. Just for a second—tall, unmoving—but by the time I flip the light on, it’s gone. I stare into the dark for a beat longer, heart thudding a little too fast.

Fucking hell, I don’t even know why I’m overreacting like this. On the ground floor, I’m used to seeing people walking by. So why did this particular shadow startle me?

I should’ve taken the penthouse when Teddy offered it, but no. I had to be the idiot afraid of heights, insisting on the ground floor instead. Because of course I did.

Chapter 3

Lorenzo

The leather chair creaks softly as I lean back, the scent of polished wood enveloping me like a second skin. My office is pristine—every inch reflects my need for control. A half-empty humidor sits in the corner, its cedar-lined walls housing the only indulgence I allow myself—hand-rolled Cohibas from Havana.

The gleam of the glass desk catches the flickering overhead light, illuminating the carefully organized paperwork and framed photographs, each item precisely positioned, a testament to my meticulous mind.

I glance down at my tablet, at the file with everything pertaining to the woman from the Carroway Café. It came in only minutes ago, but I was alerted straight away.