LOGIN
"We need the next payment by Friday, Miss Hall. Without it, we'll have to discuss alternative arrangements for your mother's care."
The nurse said it like she was reading from a script. Polite. Practiced. Like she hadn't just told me my mother could be moved out of the ICU over money. I didn't look up from the clipboard. "Define alternative arrangements." A pause. "There's a general ward with shared facilities. It's not ideal for her condition, but—" "I heard you." I handed the clipboard back, turned, and walked to the window at the end of the corridor. Below, the city carried on. All of it moving without care for the fact that my mother was lying forty feet behind me with tubes in her arms and a number on a bill I couldn't pay. Forty-three thousand pounds still outstanding. Plus Friday's deposit. I pulled out my phone. Three missed calls from a number I didn't recognize, two from Jo who I'd been avoiding since I got back into London, and one voicemail from the landlord of my old apartment in Manchester confirming he'd already re-let it. So that was gone too. I called the unknown number back. It rang twice. "Miss Hall." A woman's voice. "I'm calling on behalf of Moore Holdings. We saw your application through ze Vanguard recruiter platform. We'd like to offer you ze position of Executive Operations Associate, effective Monday." I pressed the phone harder against my ear. "That was fast. I submitted that application three days ago." "Your credentials are strong. The position comes with an immediate contract and a signing advance of two 'undred thousand pounds, disbursed within forty-eight hours of signing." My grip on the phone tightened. Two hundred thousand. "Where do I sign?" ~*~ The HR office was on the fourteenth floor of a building that smelled like money. Clean lines. Quiet air conditioning. Staff who didn't bother to make eye contact with visitors. The woman who processed my contract was named Estelle. She had reading glasses on a beaded chain and spoke only when necessary, which I respected. "You'll report directly to ze executive suite," she said, sliding the contract across the desk. " 'Ze contract is a standard NDA, non-compete clause active for six months post-termination, and you'll be required on-site five days a week. Any questions, madame?" I was already reading. My eyes moved fast, scanning clauses, looking for traps. Nothing jumped out. Standard corporate language. The advance was real, confirmed in clause four, paragraph two. I signed. "Welcome to Moore 'Oldings." Estelle retrieved the contract, clicked her pen, and smiled. "You'll receive your onboarding package tonight. First day ees Monday, nine sharp" I stood, picked up my bag, and walked back to the elevator. I didn't feel relief. I was doing the math. Two hundred thousand would cover Friday's deposit, clear the outstanding balance, and leave me with enough to hold things together for six more weeks if I was careful. Six weeks to figure out the rest. The elevator doors opened. I stepped in, pressed the lobby button, and checked my phone. Jo had called again. The doors were closing when a hand caught them. He stepped in. And the floor dropped out from under me. He was taller than I remembered, or maybe I'd just shrunk that memory down to something manageable over the years. White suit, no tie, an effortless precision that only comes from never having to think about money. He was looking at his phone when he entered. He didn't look up immediately. I stared at the doors. Breathe, Katherine. "Twenty-second floor," he said to no one, reaching past me to press the button. His hand was close enough that I could have moved an inch and touched his sleeve. I didn't move. The elevator began to rise. I kept my eyes forward. My reflection in the brushed steel doors looked back at me, controlled, unreadable. Good. He glanced sideways. Then the pause came. "Katherine Hall." I turned my head. Looked at him the way I'd practiced in a hundred hypothetical versions of this moment. Like he was nothing more than a stranger who happened to know my name. "Heath." He studied my face. "You work here?" he asked. "As of Monday." His eyes shifted. At that moment, the elevator reached the lobby. and the doors opened I walked out first. I was three steps across the marble floor when his voice followed me. "Kattie." I stopped but didn't turn. "You should read clause seventeen before considering the job" he paused "You have till Friday" I walked out of the building and didn't stop until I reached the car park. Then I stood there, my back against the wall, and pulled the copy of my contract from my bag with hands that I refused to let shake. Clause seventeen. The Executive Operations Associate will report exclusively to the Chief Executive Officer. I looked up at the building. Twenty-second floor. His floor. I had just signed a contract to work directly under Heath Moore. And I had forty-eight hours before the advance hit my account. The kind of money my mother needed to stay alive. HEATHThe second car smelled of leather and gun oil. I slammed the door harder than necessary and barked at the driver, “Warehouse district. Fast.”My knuckles stayed white against the seat. Thorne’s voice kept cutting through my skull: Take good care of her, Moore. He’d said it with that dead smile, the one that promised pain. Five years hadn’t dulled the hatred between us. If anything, time had sharpened it into something lethal.I loosened my tie, trying to breathe. Katherine’s face kept flashing behind my eyes—the flush on her cheeks when we’d almost kissed, the way her fingers had tightened on my shoulder like she was afraid I’d disappear. I should never have brought her tonight. She was supposed to be camouflage. Instead she’d become a target the moment Thorne noticed how I looked at her.My phone buzzed. Vito’s message was short:Package confirmed. Red & Brown is moving. Thorne knows.Ortega’s ghost. The silver-haired messenger wasn’t delivering party favors—he was brokering th
The cluster of conversation on the far side of the ballroom fractured the moment Thorne Blackwood’s eyes locked with Heath’s. Every head turned. The string quartet faltered for half a beat before recovering, but the notes sounded thinner now, strained against the weight in the air. Conversations died mid-sentence. Guards in dark suits shifted their weight, hands drifting closer to their sides.Heath stopped. Thorne turned. They began walking toward each other through the parting crowd slowly, boots clicking against marble, each footfall a separate countdown. The space between them shrank inch by inch, and with each inch, my throat tightened. Heat radiated off the bodies pressing away from them. I swallowed.Thorne Blackwood moved with controlled power. He was Hispanic. His dark eyes held no warmth, only calculation. On his arm clung a woman who looked like she could draw blood with a smile. She had a thin figure, elegant, with sleek black hair pinned high and crimson lips curved in pe
“Why does he always carry a gun?” I asked, gesturing toward the bodyguard in the front.The limousine pulled away from the curb. The engine purred, swallowing the rumble of my street, the distant wail of a siren, and the drunk shouting three blocks over. I sat rigid in the soft leather, my scarlet dress gripping every curve. My thighs stuck to the seat as the city lights melted past the tinted windows in streaks of amber and white. Heath stared out his side, jaw tight enough to crack, one gloved hand motionless on his knee. Behind the blacked-out partition, the bodyguard drove in complete silence. When the partition lowered for a moment, I caught sight of the gun holstered against his ribs.The minutes stretched. The silence pressed against my ribs, growing thicker and hotter. I could hear myself breathing. He could too.“Why does he always carry a gun?” I asked again.Heath didn’t answer right away. He kept his face turned to the passing streets, the muscle in his jaw ticking. His he
The moment I turned the corner onto my street, my stomach twisted.“Kath-er-ine Hall! Perfect timing!”Mrs. Periwinkle’s voice cut through the evening like a delighted foghorn. She stood on her porch in her usual floral housecoat, one hand clamped possessively around the arm of a tall, good-looking man in his late twenties. He had a set of warm brown eyes, a set of bright teeth, and an easy-going face.Oh no. Not tonight. Please, not tonight.I kept walking toward my own door, legs aching from the endless day, the image of that bodyguard’s gun still burning behind my eyes and Heath’s cold ‘to keep you safe’ still echoing. Every step felt heavier than the last.Mrs. Periwinkle wobbled down her steps with surprising speed for someone of her age. “Don’t you dare pretend you didn’t hear me, young lady!”I stopped, forcing a tired smile. Daniel looked as mortified as I felt. “Auntie, please,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.She ignored him. “This is my nephew Daniel, visiting fr
My phone vibrated before I even opened my eyes.You're late. Get me a black coffee, and if you're not at your desk by nine, your signing bonus gets reviewed for clawback.My eyes snapped open.8:30."Oh, you've got to be kidding me."Move, Katherine. Move.I threw on the first clean blouse I could find, yanked my hair into the same tight bun that still ached from yesterday, and bolted out the door with one heel half on. The bus ride felt like a countdown, then after a minute or so my phone buzzed.I muttered every curse I knew under my breath as I re-read the text on my phone—ones that I’m sure would have made Mrs. Periwinkle faint. The phone buzzed again.Black coffee. Two sugars. Don’t be late.I muttered a few more unflattering things about Heath, made an abrupt stop at a café, grabbed his coffee, and dashed back out. High school was the last time I had to do a marathon race, and trust me, if someone had told me I would be doing it again for my ex, I would have laughed until I topp
The space beside me wasn’t just empty, it was cold.I didn't open my eyes at first. I let my hand sweep across the expanse of the mattress, searching for the heat of him, the rhythm of his breathing, the friction of skin against skin that had settled between us just hours ago. My fingers met only the textured cotton of the duvet.I lay still for a full minute before I moved. Staring at the ceiling. Listening.He's in the kitchen. That was my first thought. He went to get water and he didn't want to wake me. That's what he's like.That's Heath.I pulled on my robe and went downstairs. My slippers made a lonely slap-slap sound against the hallway floor. The kitchen was exactly how I left it last night. Two mugs sat on the drying rack near the kettle. But there, draped over the arm of the sofa, was his coat —my coat, the cedar one.“Heath.”I called his name once. Softly, because I didn't want to sound like I was panicking.“Heath?” Then again, louder.No one answered.Maybe he had an em







