Page 13 of Duty Unbound

“Yes.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s concerning how easily they got in, isn’t it?”

“Concerning is putting it mildly.” I moved to examine the door in question. “If this stalker had planned violence instead of delivering flowers, there would have been nothing stopping him.”

“Him?” she questioned.

“In situations like this, it’s almost always a male perpetrator.” I tested the lock, frowning at how easily it turned.

“And the fact that he left two notes with the roses is interesting.” I continued, shaking my head when I turned back to find Mel looking at her phone. “Almost as if his attention is fragmented.”

“Nova has also been receiving threats through other channels,” Mel pulled her gaze away from her phone to look at me. “Emails, text messages, DMs on social media platforms, even physical letters delivered to her fan mail address.”

I nodded, studying the room. “You and Nova were fortunate that whoever did this only wanted to leave a message. A stalker who’s both obsessive and shows signs of violence…” I let the implication hang in the air.

Mel swallowed hard. “I know.”

I was about to say more when murmuring began floating around us. Mel straightened immediately, masking every trace of unease from her expression. The shift was subtle, automatic, as if she’d spent years perfecting it.

Then Nova Rivers swept into the kitchen.

And there was no other word for it—swept.

She moved like she was stepping onto a stage, every detail carefully curated for maximum effect. Long waves of platinum hair, perfectly tousled. A fitted, high-fashion tracksuit in a shade of blush that probably cost more than Ty’s truck. Diamond studs in her ears, a fresh manicure tapping impatiently against the back of her phone.

Her choreographer Dexter Deeds walked with her, a half step behind, looking thoroughly bored with the proceedings.

Nova barely glanced at us before tossing out an exaggerated sigh toward Dexter. “Oh, great. The bodyguards have arrived.”

Ty let out a barely audible snort beside me. I ignored him, keeping my expression neutral as I assessed Nova Rivers in person for the first time.

Nova moved toward the fridge, Dexter following, retrieving a bottle of something bright green and unscrewing the cap. “Can we just cut to the part where you tell me not to post on social media, I roll my eyes, and you all waste a bunch of time pretending I’m actually going to listen?”

I didn’t blink. I could already tell she was going to be a problem if we took this assignment.

Mel gave a tight smile. “Nova?—”

“No, no,” Nova interrupted, waving a hand dramatically as she took a sip of her drink. “Let’s not start the whole ‘Nova, take this seriously’ thing again. You already did that for, like, an hour this morning. It was boring then. I’m sure this will be just as boring now.”

Her little entourage of dancers and sycophants chuckled from where they’d filled the doorway. Nova giggled back, clearly performing for her audience.

“You think this is funny?” I asked, my voice steady.

Nova finally looked at me—really looked at me.

I watched as her expression flickered, her mind processingme in real time. Taking in the hard lines, the military cut, the fact that I wasn’t smiling or particularly impressed.

Her brows lifted slightly, a flash of something unreadable in her eyes. Then, just as quickly, she dismissed me.

“I think it’s dramatic,” she said breezily. “Which, in my line of work, is not bad.”

Mel exhaled softly beside me, her fingers tightening around her tablet. The tension in her shoulders spoke volumes about how often she’d had this conversation with her sister.

I tilted my head. “Dramatic?”

Nova shrugged. “I mean, look at my engagement stats.” She pulled up her phone, angling the screen toward me. “Ever since the roses incident, my numbers have been through the roof. People love a little mystery.”

I stared at her, wondering if I’d heard correctly. “You’re saying you’re fine with someone breaking in to your house and leaving you dead flowers because it’s good for social media?”

She grinned. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”