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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DANTE

T he last dregs of coffee cool in my cup as I stare out the window at the trees beyond.

Small pleasures are worth noting—the warmth of oak beneath my fingertips, the diffused afternoon light casting gentle shadows across the minimalist office, the silence that allows for uninterrupted thought.

In my experience, external order breeds internal clarity.

I’ve been pushing myself too hard lately.

The weight of fatigue presses against my eyes, making them burn despite the softened lighting.

Three consecutive nights with less than four hours of sleep tends to have that effect, even on the most disciplined minds.

My body demands rest, but I simply can’t when so many puzzle pieces require my constant attention.

My phone vibrates against the desk. I take a measured breath, answering on the third ring. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me,” I say, keeping my tone neutral while leaning back in my leather office chair .

A deep, masculine voice filters through the speaker. “Forgive the delay. Getting close to the Harrow heir isn’t as simple as one might hope.”

“And yet you managed an invitation to his gathering.” I take a sip of coffee. “Quite resourceful.”

“Yes, but his dinner party tomorrow will be a power play—Julian asserting dominance.” There’s a pause, then his voice lightens. “You could attend yourself.”

I laugh. “Hardly. Too much work to do. Your presence serves our purpose better.”

He sighs. “The new leader is… volatile. Unpredictable. I’m not convinced he’ll maintain control for long.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” I say. I trace the rim of my cup with one finger, thinking. “Will the Harrow pet be let out of her cage to attend?”

“Yes. I believe the Golden One will make an appearance.”

I drain the last of my cold, bitter coffee and follow a line of orange in the darkening sky. “Any updates about her?”

“None.” A moment of hesitation. “But I’ve been keeping an eye on her as best I can.”

“And the new Harrow leader still thinks she killed Theodore?”

“As far as I know, yes.”

“Good.” I stand, unable to remain still as the pieces of our game rearrange themselves in my mind. “I need her for my plans.”

“Mine, too.”

I smirk. “Yes, well, focus on the dinner party. Get close to Julian, assess his weaknesses. Determine how much Lady Harrow is pulling his strings.”

“And the Golden One? What if I have an opportunity to speak with her?”

“Don’t. Keep your distance tomorrow.”

“Understood.”

The call ends and I sigh. My moment of peace is gone, along with my coffee, so I swivel back to my desk and open a folder.

So much to prepare and yet only so many hours in the day.