Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 32532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
“Uh...yeah.”
I came here thinking there might be something I could do to help catch Braxton. But it seems I misunderstood, and I’m the one being questioned for—I don’t know—unnecessary use of agency funds and resources?
“And I see here in his report—” Tanya’s eyes scan the page. “—that you were shot.”
“Um—”
“Because you disobeyed a direct command from your assigned agent.”
I’m trying my best to think of her in a good light. I really am. But why is she making it sound like the agency would have been better off leaving me in Vegas to be auctioned?
“The other girls from your case,” Tanya continues, her tone light, conversational, devastating, “are all thriving in their new identities. New cities, new names, new lives. Clean breaks, just as intended.” She pauses. “And yet here you are. Still creating problems.”
My stomach sinks.
Tanya closes the folder and clasps her hands beneath her chin, studying me with the detached interest of a scientist examining a particularly disappointing lab specimen.
“Are you aware of how extraordinarily lucky you are to have Zacky rescue you? He’s the agent we send to dismantle the world’s most powerful crime and terror organizations from within. But because he owed a friend a favor, he had to turn down several critical missions to save you.”
“I—”
“And now this.” Her voice drops, losing the false pleasantness entirely. “This Braxton situation. More resources. More risk. More of Zacky’s time and attention diverted from work that actually matters.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Tanya leans forward slightly.
“Please do not cause further trouble.” Her words are crisp, each one landing like a small, sharp stone. “If you keep disobeying directives and acting entirely on impulse, you’ll end up getting one of our top agents killed.” She pauses, letting the weight of that settle. “And frankly, darling—agents like him don’t grow on trees. Civilians who get them killed, unfortunately, do.”
The silence that follows feels like drowning.
I don’t know how long we sit there—me frozen, her watching—before Tanya stands and smooths her skirt.
“Before I let you go, I want to tell you something, woman to woman...”
ZACHARIE IS ALREADY waiting when Tanya steps out of the office, and his gaze immediately narrows the moment he sees my face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, please.”
I jump at the sound of Tanya’s voice. I hadn’t realized she’d followed me out.
She’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching us with an expression I can’t quite read.
“She’s a grown woman, Zacky. Stop babying her, or she’ll get you killed.”
Zacharie doesn’t even look at her.
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Something flashes across Tanya’s face—anger, maybe, or contempt—but Zacharie is already taking my hand and guiding me down the corridor, away from her, away from the fluorescent lights and the side-eyes and the suffocating weight of everything she said.
My heart aches at his touch.
I used to find his grip reassuring. Like he was the anchor that gave my whole world balance.
But now I feel like I’m the anchor between us.
Because it could very well be like Tanya said. I could end up slowing him down. Burdening him. Maybe even getting him killed because of my foolish impulsiveness.
The thought follows me out of the building, into the California sunshine, into the back of his waiting car.
Zacharie cups my chin once the door closes behind us, turning my face toward his.
“Talk to me. What did Tanya say to upset you?”
“Nothing that isn’t true.”
My voice comes out uneven, and I shake my head when he asks me to tell him anyway.
“Just...” His thumb brushes my cheek. “Don’t let any foolish thoughts enter your head. Oui?”
“Oui.”
I manage to laugh, but my heart is breaking.
If Zacharie himself thinks I’m foolish, then maybe I really am.
And what if I do get him hurt—or even killed—because of it?
My heart is still heavy when we get home, but as soon as we’re inside, Zacharie suddenly lifts me up against the wall, his mouth is crushing mine, and it’s like he just knows.
Sometimes, it’s tenderness that heals your heart. Soft words. Gentle touches. The quiet reassurance of being held.
But there are also times when you just want to lose yourself in a kiss so scorchingly hot that all you can do is whimper.
And it’s really like our souls are entwined in every way, with Zacharie deepening the kiss as his body rocks against mine. The marble of the foyer wall is cool against my back, but everywhere he touches burns. My fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket. My arms wind around his neck. My legs tighten around his waist as he presses closer, harder, like he’s trying to fuse us into one person.
His kiss burns all the way down to my very core.
The friction between our bodies tightens into something that just keeps building and building and building—
“Mira.”
He grits my name out against my lips, and that’s all it takes.