Page 29 of Silent Schemes

"Midazolam. Fast-acting, short half-life. You needed medical attention, and you were about to fight me for the privilege ofbleeding out." He pours coffee, slides a cup toward me. "Would you have preferred I let you stay conscious while I cut your dress off?"

"I would have preferred you didn't drug me at all."

"No, you wouldn't. Because if you'd stayed conscious, you would have tried to complete your mission while bleeding. I would have had to stop you. Violently. The sedative was a mercy."

"Why show mercy at all? Why not just..." I make a gun gesture with my fingers.

"Kill you?" He meets my eyes. "Because unconscious women can't make choices. And I want you to choose, Sienna. Every step. Every decision. Every betrayal. I want you wide awake for all of it."

The weight of that lands between us.

He's telling me he knows how this ends—with me betraying him—and he's going to let it happen anyway.

But eating feels too much like surrender, too much like trust.

My father’s voice echoes in my head:Never accept food from a mark. It makes you weak, comfortable. Comfort kills.

But I'm already compromised.

Already in his territory, wearing his clothes, breathing his air.

What's one more line crossed?

I lower the gun and follow him to a dining table that probably costs more than most people make in a year.

The view is spectacular—Vancouver spreads out below us like a kingdom.

His family’skingdom.

We eat in silence for several minutes.

The eggs are actually good, which annoys me.

Men like him shouldn't be able to create anything but destruction.

"You know who I am," I finally say, setting down my fork. "What I'm here to do. Why haven't you killed me?"

He leans back in his chair, studying me with those impossible eyes. "Same reason you haven't killed me. We're having too much fun."

"This isn't a game."

"Everything's a dirty game, Sienna, and if it isn’t, it’s a silent scheme. The only question is whether you know the rules of the game."

He stands, and I tense, hand moving to where my knife should be.

But he just walks past me, close enough that his heat brushes my skin.

"Come on. Let me show you something."

I follow because what else can I do?

The penthouse is massive, all clean lines and expensive minimalism.

But he leads me to a door I didn't notice this morning, hidden behind what I thought was just wood paneling.

The room beyond takes my breath away.

Maps cover every wall.