PART 14:

“You’re sitting on something dangerous, and you don’t even see it.” He let the sentence breathe for a moment. “My uncle Nolan has been a target for a long time. Do you know why his wife died?” Mara kept her face still and let him talk. “Nolan made a deal go away.” Preston’s voice had leveled out, dropped the performance.

“Weapons manufactured outside the usual channels, moving through agreements that weren’t supposed to exist. When he decided it violated government policy and walked away from it, they didn’t forgive him.” His eyes moved briefly to the open balcony door, then back. “They don’t come for the man directly. That’s not how they work.

They come for what he loves. They take that from him, and they let him live with it.” His expression flickered. Something almost real behind the studied nonchalance. “Evelyn was what he loved, and now he can’t walk out the front door of his own house.” The room was very quiet. So, that was it. The hand that had trembled at the press conference, the way he had stopped dead at the threshold, the stagger when they came back inside.

She had filed all of it quietly and told herself it wasn’t her information to read. Now someone had handed her the key. “You’ve been in the papers now.” Preston’s voice shifted back into something harder. “They know your face. They know your name next to his.” His eyes held hers. “Being with Nolan Campbell means being a target.

You understand that? Mara swallowed once. She would not let him see it cost her anything. You’re his family. Her voice was even. That means you’re in the same position. Preston laughed. A short, genuine sound with nothing warm in it. Everyone in this city knows Nolan doesn’t care much about what happens to me. He spread his hands. I’m not what he values, which means I’m not what they’d use.

His eyes came back to her. But you? Get out of my room, Preston. She held his gaze without blinking. I mean it. Don’t come near me again. He studied her for a moment. The practiced concern left his face. What replaced it had always been underneath it. Wow. His voice dropped, slow and deliberate. You are something else, Mara.

I thought you were vanilla. His eyes moved over her. But you’re something wild and kinky, aren’t you? A smile that had nothing apologetic in it. My mistake. His hand moved to her leg. Her palm connected with his face before the thought had fully formed. His head snapped sideways. In the half second before he recovered, she was already moving.

But he caught both her wrists, his grip locking, his face coming close to hers. We both ended up in the same situation. His voice had gone quiet and certain. Both pushed toward something neither of us chose. Doesn’t that mean something? His eyes dropped to her mouth. I’ve decided I actually want you, Mara. Not because of my father, because Get off me! Her voice cracked through the dark like something breaking. Don’t touch me.

Get off me! Then the door opened. Not a knock, not a warning, just the handle turning and the frame filling with light from the corridor. And Nolan Campbell standing in it. White shirt, dark trousers. The hour on his face was 3:00 in the morning, and the expression on it was something far older and colder than that.

His voice came out low, the kind of low that didn’t need to get louder to make your skin go cold. Take your hands off her, Preston. He stepped into the room unless you want me to kill you right here. Preston released her wrists and stood from the bed in a single motion, turning to face him. Uncle Nolan? The performance was back, half assembled.

Or did you put a camera in here, too? He glanced around the room with exaggerated interest. Mara went still. Is he really watching this room? She didn’t have time to finish the thought. Nolan crossed the room in three strides and hit Preston once, clean and precise across the nose. Preston went down.

He was getting back up when Michael stepped in from the doorway and took hold of his arm. Are you hurt? She shook her head. The word wouldn’t come. Michael appeared in the doorway, his composure intact in the particular way it always was, but his jaw tight. Boss. His voice was controlled. I’m sorry. He came through the utility access to the garden.

Must have climbed to the balcony from there. That’s on me. Nolan looked at him, a single look. It held everything he wasn’t going to say out loud. Preston yanked his arm free from Michael’s grip. He walked toward the door, still talking, his voice dropping to something that wanted to sound like dignity. You can’t just take what was mine.

At the threshold, he turned, one hand pressed to his nose, blood on his fingers. You shouldn’t have done this. Nolan’s back was to him. His eyes were on Mara. She was never yours. His voice was flat and final, the way he stated things that weren’t open for discussion. Stop dreaming. Michael walked Preston out. The door closed. The room was quiet again.

The balcony door was moving in the night air. Mara was still sitting against the headboard, her knees drawn to her chest. Nolan came to the side of the bed. He sat on the edge of it. Two fingers found the side of her throat, the pulse point, and stayed there. Her lips parted. His jaw tightened once. Her pulse was running faster than fear alone explained, and they both knew it.

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