Chapter 10
The safehouse was a minimalist, high-security penthouse overlooking the city. It possessed none of the warm, luminous elegance of the mansion. Here, everything was steel, glass, and cold leather.
Dawn was breaking, casting a pale, gray light over the skyline. Silas had been stabilized by an underground doctor and was resting in one of the guest rooms. Felix was tucked into a massive king-sized bed, clutching the oversized, un-poisoned leather watch in his sleep.
Audrey stood in the sleek, modern kitchen, still wearing her ruined black maid’s dress. She was brewing coffee, staring blankly at the dark liquid dripping into the glass pot. The sheer weight of the night had finally caught up to her.
She heard his footsteps before she saw him. Bastian entered the kitchen, having shed his ruined suit jacket and vest. He wore only his white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his heavily tattooed forearms and the fresh bandage wrapping his bicep.
“Is he asleep?” Bastian asked, leaning against the marble island.
“Yes. He didn’t even stir when I took his shoes off,” Audrey replied softly, pouring two mugs of black coffee. She slid one across the counter toward him.
Bastian didn't touch the mug. He just looked at her. The morning light caught his cold, perceptive eyes, making them look like fractured ice.
“Why did you really check the watch, Audrey?” Bastian asked, his voice low, filling the quiet kitchen.
Audrey froze, her hand hovering over her own mug. “I told you, Mr. Wells. The strap was loose.”
“Is it a coincidence that a former pharmacist's daughter recognized a Moretti nerve agent before my trained assassins could?” Bastian inquired, taking a slow step around the kitchen island.
Audrey took a step back, her spine hitting the refrigerator. “I saved your life. Isn’t that enough?”
“Did you save my life because you care about my son, or because your employer needs me alive for the time being?” Bastian asked, taking another step, effectively trapping her between the counter and his imposing frame.
Audrey looked up at him, her heart hammering. The soft, rounded contours of her face hardened slightly. The facade of the submissive housemaid was finally slipping away entirely.
“Are you always this paranoid, Bastian?” Audrey countered, realizing too late that she had dropped the formal title.
“Do you know what happens to people who infiltrate my home, Audrey?” Bastian asked, his face inches from hers. He reached up, his large, tattooed hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The touch was terrifyingly tender.
“Would you kill the only person who can help you dismantle the Moretti syndicate from the inside?” Audrey whispered, holding his gaze without flinching.
The silence stretched between them, thick with tension, danger, and an undeniable, magnetic pull. Bastian’s eyes searched hers, calculating the risk, analyzing the woman who had completely upended his world in a single night.
Before Bastian could ask his next question, the sleek, encrypted phone on the counter between them began to buzz aggressively. The caller ID flashed a single, terrifying word: MORETTI.
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Bastian didn’t look at the phone. He kept his eyes locked perfectly on Audrey.
“Shall we answer it together, Audrey?” he asked softly, a dangerous, thrilling edge to his voice.
