Page 40 of The Final Contract

My mouth curves into a half grin before I tip my water bottle back for a long drink.

Yeah. Definitely should’ve spread that pussy open for breakfast.

Eve’s already tearing into the bags, chattering about croissants and syrup while she lines up enough food to feed a platoon. I move to the counter, grab a couple of mugs, and pour out coffee. I tip one toward Seraphina, raising my brows in question.

“Coffee?”

She nods, a little too quick. Like she needs it. I know she does—she has coffee every morning, the same way, the same flavor, along with a cold glass of pineapple juice. Had a few of her favorites delivered with the groceries this morning, along with a few other things she hasn’t noticed yet.

We can’t go back to her place for another night or two, not until the team finishes upgrading her security. So she’s here. In my space. In my bed. Driving me fucking insane.

I turn to Finn. “What’d you find?”

He sets down his fork, wiping his mouth. “The restaurant, first. Photos were taken across the street. Lad named Elijah, wasn’t it?” His accent is thicker when he’s serious. “Several cameras in the area, but none caught anyone hangin’ about. The buildin’ across the way—no surveillance at all, so that was nothin’ but a dead end.”

Sera dishes a plate, then hands it to me without looking, just as I’m passing her the coffee. Our fingers brush. A small, accidental thing. Except it’s not small at all—it’s lightning in my veins, quick and dangerous.

Finn clears his throat, carrying on. “The gym, though. Bit of a lead there. Cameras caught someone slippin’ the envelope into your purse.”

My head snaps his way and I feel Sera shift her eyes to me, then back at Finn.

“It wasn’t who you’d expect,” he goes on. “Just some woman. Regular at the gym. We tracked her down—she says a man asked her to do it. Told her it was an anniversary game with his fiancée. She thought it was romantic.”

Eve scoffs. Sera swallows too hard, a gulp that stalls in her throat. Her fork clatters against the plate. She looks like she’s seen her phantom again.

“Did he have…” Her voice cracks.

Finn’s gaze flicks between us. He nods once, solemn. “Aye. One brown eye. One blue.”

I clear my throat. “What about the penthouse? Cameras catch anything there?”

Finn shakes his head, mouth tight. “Nothin’. Jaxon’ll have to explain it better, but the lad was wearin’ some sort o’ device. Strong one. Knocked out every feed he walked past, so we’ve no good shot of him.”

My stomach knots. I stroke my chin, smoothing the coarse hair of my short beard in one direction.

“But Jaxon’s on it,” Finn adds quickly. “Says he should be able to trace it soon enough. They’re rare, aye? Unique. Now that he knows to look, he’ll be watchin’.”

I know that look on Finn’s face. He’s holding something back.

“What else?” My voice drops, flat.

He takes a breath, heavy. “The stalker was at the restaurant. When you met Daniel Ruiz. Jaxon checked their cameras. Same device—a scrambler—showed up. Means he was sittin’ right there—likely at the table next to you.”

Seraphina’s chest rises too fast, heaving. She stares down at her plate like it’s spoiled, the food suddenly rotten in front of her.

“The spilled glass,” she whispers, eyes lifting to mine.

I don’t need her to explain. I’m already there.

She’d been teasing me that night, sliding her leg against mine, playing with her wineglass like it was my cock she wanted wrapped between her lips. And I let her distract me.

Until a glass shattered right next to us and broke the moment. It was him.

Watching. Pissed. Right there.

Fuck.

I should’ve been watching the guests. Should’ve been working. Not imagining her tits in my hands.