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I’ve spent the entire morning trying to figure out what the hell is going on with those transactions—how the fuck did it even happen? Who the fuck is doing this?

At first, when she showed it to me, I panicked.

I thought she’d found something related to the bratva side of the business that I was trying to keep her separate from. I thought it was the underground records, documents we keep apart from the rest of the office.

I freaked out at her, I’m ashamed to say, but it was because I was worried about her. Just knowing puts her at risk.

Knowing anything about the mafia ties we have puts her in danger. That’s the last thing I want for her. I would never forgive myself if something happened to her because of my mafia background.

But it wasn’t that.

The transactions have absolutely nothing to do with bratva.

The discrepancies are blatant. Someone is stealing from me. I have no idea how they’ve managed to do it for so long, right under my nose.

The fact that I didn’t see it made me angrier and more determined to figure out who it was.

I still don’t know.

I’ve hired an investigator to deep dive into the accounts quietly. The fewer people who know about this for now, the better.

So far, he has discovered that the money is being transferred to an unnamed account. It’s anonymous. He’s going to keep digging.

I was focused on trying to figure it all out, but the weight of my guilt over how I treated Serafina has been too much.

I was a fucking asshole to her. She did not deserve that. Not at all.

If not for her, this person might have carried on for who knows how long.

I should have been the one to see it—but I wasn’t.

She was.

And I treated her like shit because of it. I’m ashamed of myself.

I was shocked when I found her office empty.

I even panicked a bit, a flash of fear that she’d left for good, angry with me because I was so rude

But she’s too level-headed for that. Sera is not the type of girl to throw a tantrum or hold grudges. I hope .

Nicole was the one who told me Sera had gone for coffee. The moment she said it, I knew where to find her—the only coffee shop she insists that we go to whenever we need a quick break from the office.

And I came straight here, walking through the streets with tiny snowflakes falling around me.

The walk helped clear my mind. I’m angry, frustrated, ready to tear someone apart for stealing from me—but first, I need to fix things with Sera.

She is my priority. Money comes second. Business comes second.

I never thought I would say that about anyone other than my family, but she’s stolen such a massive piece of my heart in such a short time.

I stop outside the coffee shop and peek inside.

My heart staggers to a stop because I am so relieved when I see her through the window. Her beautiful face is lit up, smiling as the waitress walks away from her.

Being apart from her creates a deep ache inside me. I miss her the moment she walks away from me.

Sitting down at her seat by the window, I glance across the table at her.

Just a second ago, she was smiling, teasing me about the waitress and how she thinks she was flirting with me.

But in a flash, her entire face changes as her smile fades away.

Her brows knit, and she starts biting at her lower lip like she does when she’s anxious. The things that happened this morning obviously snuck back into her memory.

I feel terrible.

My hands are warm from being inside my coat pocket on the walk here. I reach across the table and take her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over the back of her hand, feeling the soft warmth of her skin.

“Sera, I am so, so sorry. I am such an asshole. I should never have spoken to you like that, and you have every right to be angry with me. But I need you to know how sorry I am for how I treated you,” I say, looking into her eyes.

I wait tensely for her reaction. I’m expecting her to give me an earful, to lecture me about respect and never speaking to her like that—and she would be fully within her rights to do so.

I deserve to feel all of her anger, all of the hurt I gave her.

She shouldn’t hold on to that; she should throw it back at me.

She bites her lip and sighs, looking down at my hand holding hers.

I wait, wondering if I should try and explain more, or tell her again that I’m sorry.

She threads her fingers through mine and looks up at me. Her eyes are warm and kind.

“You,“ she grins, tilting her head to the side, “owe me a foot massage.”

She’s looking proud of herself.

“A foot massage?” I ask in confusion.

“Yes. Not a quick one. Not five minutes and then you stop when you’re bored. No. I want a proper one. With lotion that smells like roses.”

I start laughing, the low rumble building from my belly and spilling from my lips. “Is this my punishment ?” I ask, realizing what she’s doing.

“It’s how you are going to make it up to me,” she nods, still smiling, her eyes glittering with relief that our fight is already over before it began.

“What else?” I ask, reaching beneath the table to pull her chair closer to mine. “Because at this point, you could ask me for a new Mercedes, and I’d say yes.”

“Mm.” She presses her finger over her lips, thinking.

“Name the color. Custom pink? Blue? Blue really suits you. Or emerald green to match your eyes,” I grin.

Eventually, she shakes her head. “I think the foot massage is sufficient.”

My heart aches. How is she so sweet, so perfect?

Threading my arm around her back, I pull her tight against my side and kiss the top of her head when she snuggles into me.

“Sera, I really am so sorry. I hate that I spoke to you like that. The stuff you showed me—it caught me off guard, and I reacted in anger about that , it was never meant to be directed at you.”

She stays snuggled against me and whispers, “It’s okay, Nico. I forgive you. I know it was a lot to take in.”

“But I hurt you.” I lift her chin with my hand beneath it and her eyes pierce into mine. “Something I never want to do.”

“I’m tougher than you think,” she smiles, leaning closer to kiss me.

She suddenly remembers where we are and sits up. A lot of people from the office come to this coffee shop, and our relationship is supposed to be a secret.

I glance to my left and right—no one we know is here.

Taking her face in my hands, I press my lips to hers and kiss her deeply.

My heart is slamming wildly against my ribs.

“Ehem,” the waitress politely draws our attention.

She sets coffee and croissants down in front of us, then grins at me before turning to Sera and saying, “You are the luckiest girl on the planet.”

She laughs and walks away with a skip in her step.

“See,” Sera smirks at me. “I told you she has a little crush on you.”

“Well, she’s too late. I met the girl of my dreams just a month or so ago,” I reply, scooping some sugar into Sera’s coffee for her.

“Oh, really. That’s so disappointing. I was just starting to like you.” Sera pouts her lower lip out. “Who is she?” she asks, feigning heartache.

I pull her into another kiss, not caring who sees. “You are the cheekiest angel I’ve ever met,” I whisper against her mouth. “Let me take you to dinner tonight. I’ll make it extra special.”

“We were going to cook tonight.”

“We can do that tomorrow. I want to take you out. I want to spoil you.”

She leans into me as she pulls her coffee closer to pick it up. “I’ll wear the white dress you like so much.”

“Mm. And those boots. I’m thinking we have to get you a few more pairs of those boots. One in each color.”

***

At seven o'clock, I’m just about to leave the house to fetch Sera for our dinner date when my phone buzzes.

The sound agitates me because all I want to do is get back to her.

I don’t want any delays or distractions.

I’m really looking forward to the night I’ve planned out.

I can’t wait to spoil her and let her know what she means to me.

But one quick glance at the screen tells me it’s the investigator I hired, and this is a call I want to take. He works with us on many different levels and he was the only one I could trust with the sensitive information he has to sift through to get to the truth.

“Henderson,” I say, pressing the phone against my ear. “What can you tell me?”

“Hi Niko, we managed to get the name on the account. Fuck, it was hidden beneath several layers of security. These guys were deep, deep undercover on this one. They did not want to be found. But we got through it, and I have a name for you.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense. Who is it?” I ask tightly.

The heavy pause causes tension to spike inside me.

“Ivan Orlov,” he says, and my entire body goes cold.

“Orlov. Are you kidding me?” Of all the names that I did not want to hear, that one might have been at the top of the list.

“I kid you not. Unfortunately. It seems he hasn’t only been messing with your operations at the warehouses. He’s inside your office, too.”

“But would he need to have someone literally inside the office to pull this off? Or is it something he could have done remotely?”

Henderson huffs out a breath. “This is an inside job. It would have been nearly impossible to pull this off without information from your financial files. Whoever is doing this works in your office, Nico. You know the person. You probably speak to them every day.”

A low growl of rage runs through me. The faces of my employees flash through my mind. Who the fuck is it? Which one of them has been looking into my eyes every day and stabbing me in the back?

I want to kill someone.

Suddenly, a shocking truth slams into me, hitting my chest and knocking the air from my lungs.

If whoever it is knows that Sera discovered their secret, she is in serious danger. They will kill her.

They wouldn’t even hesitate to get rid of her if it meant hiding their identity and anything they’ve been up to.

Fuck.

“Henderson. Thanks. I’ve got to go.”

“Sure thing—“

I hang up the phone before I hear anything else.

With singular focus, I run to grab my keys and bolt out of the penthouse to the elevators. While I’m rushing, I call her. The phone rings, it rings again. The longer it rings, the sicker I feel. My stomach twists and knots with fear.

She doesn’t answer, so I dial again.

The third time I dial—the third time she doesn’t answer—I’m on the verge of kicking a wall down, I’m so worried.

I drive much faster than I should be driving, screaming around corners, my tires skidding on the icy roads, my mind racing with everything that might be happening to her.

If they fucking took her, if they lay one fucking hand on her, I will kill them all. Every last one of those fucking Orlovs. Their children’s children will die before they’ve taken their first breath into the world. I will kill them and their entire bloodline.

My car skids to a halt outside her apartment. I climb out, almost slipping on the road. I run to her front door and try the handle. It’s locked. I knock, loud and aggressive, banging against her door until I hear her voice from inside.

“Stop that, I’m coming. There’s no need to break the door down—“ Her mouth drops open when she sees me standing there.

She’s wrapped in a towel, water dripping from her body. Her eyes wide in shock. “Nico?” she stammers. “Am I late? I thought—“

I’m so relieved to find her unharmed that I’ve frozen in place, just staring at her.

She grabs my wrist to check the time on my watch.

“I’m not late,” she huffs.

I grab her into my arms, pulling her out onto the front step as I lift her off the ground and hug her tightly.

“Nico, it’s freezing out here,” she squeals, wiggling in fright.

I step into her house, still holding her.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her brows knitted and her eyes glaring at me when I put her down again.

Shit. What can I say to explain this?

“I need you to get ready and come with me,” I say. Just because someone hasn't taken her yet doesn’t mean she’s safe.

“Where?” she snaps.

“I’ll explain later. But right now we need to go.”

She shakes her head. Folding her arms across her chest, she says, “I’m not going anywhere until you explain what is going on.”

“Sera, get dressed. Right now. We don’t have time for this,” I snarl.

Her eyes go wide, and she realizes she’s going to get nowhere arguing with me.

I follow her into her bedroom and see the white dress spread across her bed, ready for her to get into for our date.

Guilt aches deep in my chest again.

She tugs her closet open in a huff and steps into a pair of jeans. She grabs a crop top and pulls it on, then a very cozy grey hoodie.

“I assume we aren’t going somewhere fancy?” she sasses at me.

I shake my head.

When she has her sneakers on her feet and her purse over her shoulder, I lead her out to the car, opening her door for her while my eyes scan up and down the street, searching for danger.