Chapter 4

Knox's POV

I couldn't tell her that my father had died because of the Romano family's expansion into markets that had been stable for decades. Couldn't explain that my mysterious client—whose photo was carefully face-down on the side table—had been my father's partner in a business relationship that had ended in blood.

Couldn't admit that I'd been planning this takedown for two years, and Blake Morrison had been a means to an end until I'd discovered his connection to her.

"Let's just say their success would be inconvenient for my clients."

She studied me for a long moment, and I found myself holding my breath. There was something almost supernatural about her ability to read people, and I wasn't sure my carefully constructed half-truths would hold up under that kind of scrutiny.

"What kind of help are you offering?" she asked.

"Information. Resources. Access to people and places that might otherwise be difficult to reach."

"In exchange for?"

"Your particular skill set. Blake trusts you, or at least he thinks he has you fooled. Celeste doesn't know you exist. That gives us advantages we wouldn't have otherwise."

"Us." She repeated the word like she was testing how it sounded.

"You want your money back. I want Blake and Celeste to face consequences for their actions. Our goals align."

"What kind of consequences?"

I'd been expecting this question, but hearing her ask it sent an unexpected jolt through me. There was something in her voice—not bloodthirst exactly, but a cold determination that reminded me why I'd never forgotten her.

"Financial ruin. Public humiliation. The kind of consequences that make it impossible to victimize anyone else."

She was quiet for several minutes, and I forced myself not to fill the silence. This had to be her choice, her decision. If I pushed too hard, she'd walk away, and I'd lose both my best chance at taking down the Romano operation and any opportunity to figure out why I'd never been able to stop thinking about Monte Carlo.

"I have conditions," she said finally.

"Name them."

"I do this my way. No micromanaging, no second-guessing my methods. If you want my help, you trust my judgment."

"Agreed."

"And when this is over, I want more than just my money back. I want compensation for the time and risk."

"How much?"

"Double what they took. One point seven million."

I didn't even hesitate. "Done."

That seemed to surprise her. "You agreed pretty quickly for someone who's supposedly concerned about money."

"Some things are worth the investment."

She stood to leave, and I felt that same sense of opportunity slipping away that I'd experienced in Monte Carlo. But this time, I wasn't going to let her disappear without a trace.

"There's one more thing," I said, standing as well.

She paused near the door. "What?"

"Blake's gotten suspicious. My sources say he's been asking questions, running background checks on people in his financial network."

I watched her face carefully as I delivered the news I'd received an hour ago. "We don't have the luxury of a long timeline anymore. There's a private poker game tomorrow night—the kind Blake frequents when he wants to show off for potential investors. He'll be there."

For the first time since she'd arrived, her control slipped slightly. Just a flicker of something—anticipation, maybe, or hunger.

"Tomorrow night," she repeated.

"Can you be ready?"

She looked back at me, and for a moment I saw something that made my pulse quicken. Not the careful professional who'd been negotiating with me, but the predator who'd taken apart my game piece by piece in Monte Carlo.

"I've been ready for this for longer than you know," she said.

The door closed behind her with a soft click, and I found myself staring at the space where she'd been standing.

Three years ago, she'd walked away from a table where I'd been left wondering what had hit me.

This time, I was the one who'd have to wait and see what kind of game she was really playing.

My phone buzzed with a text from my contact at Blake's firm: Morrison's running scared. Asking about financial audits and background checks. Whatever you're planning, do it fast.

I looked at the message, then at the photo lying face-down on the side table—the photo of the man who'd taught me that some debts could never be repaid, only avenged.