I’m now certain that this is over.

Marco seems perfectly sincere. And why not?

He’s about to cut me free like a dead weight—an anchor holding back the whole ship. This charity event thing is just to distract me. He doesn’t need me to do this, he just wants to keep me busy while he figures out a way to get rid of me.

Maybe they know. Maybe they know everything.

How many people I’ve killed. All the secrets of my dark past and how my mother was a whore. I don’t know how deep this goes, but I have to play it as if it’s the worst.

I try to engage in a conversation with Marco, and I try to make it genuine.

I can’t help the touch of ice in my tone. I need to keep him at arms length while I figure out what I’m going to do. I can’t get distracted by cock today.

Everything is fucked—everything is just fucked up.

He smells so good and looks even better. I just want to fall between his knees and nibble at his throat while I rip his pants off. I’m getting wet just thinking about it.

But I can’t. I have no fucking clue what’s going on—with the senator, with the brothers, with my fucking self. I’ve never felt like this before.

Marco pleads off as he drops me at the fancy venue where I’m to meet the charity manager. He clearly doesn’t want to come with me. Can’t stand the sight of me, I imagine.

Maybe this is where it goes down.

The ice of dread deep inside me makes me sharp and clears my head. The place is older than I expected, the big front doors locked up tight. I go through a small service door, and the hallway is dark.

I quickly slide through the shadows, just heading down the hallway, picking a direction randomly. As I approach the main hall, I see movement in the shadows and move quietly up to the archway.

I can hear breathing.

Without giving myself time to think, I jump out into the main hall.

A small, grey-haired man leaps up like a frog and shrieks.

I clutch my chest, staggering backwards.

He laughs and offers me a hand.

“You must be Sofia. Marco said you were coming. Aren’t we a pair of fools? Scaring each other like that. Reginald’s the name.”

I smile and take his hand, stabilizing myself on my heels.

Without my reflexes, I’d be flat out right now.

“Nice to meet you,” I shake his hand gently. “Sorry I crept up on you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He nods sagely. “Old buildings do that to you. The longer the shadows, the more familiar they seem. Come on up to my office for a cup of tea, dear.”

I follow him back up the hallway, and we enter a small office stuffed with papers. He makes us both some weak tea from a thermos and offers me a biscuit.

“No staff in the kitchen yet, unfortunately—you’ll have to rely on me for snacks. Only two weeks and so much to do!”

We go through which charities will be represented and plan for the number of guests we can squeeze into the hall. I enjoy Reginald’s company quite a bit as I can see he’s lived a life of happy sacrifice—a fellow content with his place in the world.

His easy manner and light humor take up the hours without me even noticing.

We get a considerable amount of work done. Reginald has a few ideas about events to run, silent auctions and wishing well games.

Some of Antonio’s paintings will be used as well.

“I believe that’s enough for now, my dear. You can now go ahead and organize catering, cleaners, and decorations. Not to mention a few more staff—I doubt you and I can handle all these people!”

I laugh warmly, promising to see him in a few days. Reginald stays burrowed in amongst his piles of paper as I head through the long hallway back out into the street. I almost hail a taxi, but then I decide to grab some lunch before heading back to the mansion.

The senator is calling again. Why wouldn’t he?

I’ve gathered next to no intel, and I haven’t reported in properly. He has every right to be pissed. Still, I can’t answer, even if it’s just to lie.

I’m so unsure of the facts in this situation that my intuition won’t talk to me.

I decide to try and call Sammy. I know she disappeared some time ago and was believed to be somewhere under deep cover, but she’s broken that cover now by emailing me.

I could be putting her life in danger by contacting her.

I don’t even know if the number will work. She could be anywhere, doing anything.

I have to at least give it a go. I pull out my phone and sidle into a shadowy nook between two shops, turning my head away from the noise of the street.

The phone rings a few times.

I almost jump as a light crackle announces the line being picked up. Silence.

I hear deep breathing, a frightening whisper.

“Sammy?” I whisper, anxiety clutching at my guts.

“Sofia.” The voice is whispery, far away. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the city—on a mission—”

“Watch out. I mean it. Fucking watch your back.”

“What?”

“Nothing is what it seems…I’ve got no one to watch my back. I found out—under cover—I started looking in the wrong places and I—”

“Sammy! What’s happening?”

“I can’t, Sophia. I can’t. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to get out of here. I’m on the run. Just watch your fucking back. Don’t call me again.”

I stare at the phone in disbelief as the call drops out. What the fuck is going on?