Page 6 of No Longer Mine (Rags & Riches #2)

Chapter Four

He growled and shoved me back against the chair harder. “You started this, Little Fox. Now it’s time for you to take it.”

FUCK. Fuck. Fuck.

I’d never cut it this close before.

Perched on the ledge of a three-story brownstone in the heart of New York City, I gritted my teeth, my pulse hammering in my ears.

The cold metal of the railing dug into my palm as I clung to it, balancing precariously in the shadows.

This wasn’t good. Anyone could spot me out here, and if they did? It’d be game over.

The worst part?

I’d left his security system down.

Stupid and sloppy. I never made mistakes like this, but today... I had.

If Dimitri Cristof was as smart as the whispers said, he’d already know someone had been inside his home. And if the rumors about him were true, he’d figure out who before I had a chance to cover my tracks.

My breath fogged the air as I glanced at the street below. The quiet hum of the city felt distant, muted against the pounding in my chest.

Dimitri Cristof.

He wasn’t just a name on my list. He was the name. One of the elites who pretended to be untouchable, untouchable because he’d erased every trace of his past.

His face wasn’t plastered on park benches or billboards—yet. But I’d seen the signs.

He had a carefully curated social calendar full of charity balls and fundraisers. The erased background that no one could explain.

He was running for something.

I just didn’t know what.

But with a little bit of digging, I could figure it out quickly enough.

I adjusted my footing on the ledge, the rough concrete biting into the soles of my boots. The chill in the air seemed sharper, the night pressing against me like a warning. Every instinct screamed at me to move, to disappear before this night spiraled out of control. But I hesitated.

I didn’t like leaving jobs unfinished.

This one had been perfectly planned—or so I thought. I hadn’t expected him to come home so early. I’d been watching his brownstone since the day he closed on it, tracking his routines and patterns with the precision of a predator.

Tonight, he should’ve been on the other side of Central Park, at his brother’s place. That’s where his schedule said he’d be. But when his car pulled into the short driveway and I heard the unmistakable jingle of his keys in the lock, I knew I was fucked.

I hadn’t finished what I’d come to do.

I knew where his safes were. I didn’t know what was inside them, but I knew I could crack them easily if I had the time. Time that had evaporated the moment his headlights swept across the living room curtains.

My hands clenched into fists as I fought the urge to curse out loud. I needed to be more careful. If I wasn’t, I’d never get back inside his place. I couldn’t have him on edge or give him a reason to double down on security or change his routine.

I needed him to relax.

Because the next time I came knocking, I wasn’t going to take it easy on him.

My grip tightened on the railing as I cast one last glance at the quiet street below. The faint hum of the city was a constant backdrop, familiar and unyielding.

With a deep breath, I leapt from the ledge and melted into the shadows, the cold night air whipping against my face.

I’d find a new target to keep me busy for now. But I would be back.