Chapter 2
1010 Words
“I’m sending you in.”
That’s how Marcus Reyes began the conversation—with his back to me, adjusting his cufflinks on his sleeves like he hadn’t just sentenced me to a front-row seat in hell. His office smelled like cedarwood and tension. The De Luca file sat between us on his desk, thick with legal jargon and secrets I wasn’t supposed to know yet.
“He respects sharp minds. He’ll test you. Don’t take the bait,” Marcus continued, finally meeting my eyes. “And don’t let your guard down. Ever.” he said his gaze never leaving unwavering tension that made me serious and also a bit cautious of the predicament I was in.
I crossed my arms, skeptical. “Why me?” I said that I was seeming his favorite as I knew about the rumors about in the pantry's whispers that left me dumbfounded.
“Because you’re clever,” he said simply. “And unflappable.”
That was a lie. My stomach was already in knots. Still, I kept my chin high, voice steady.
“What else should I know?” I asked with my chest and file board in my arm.
Marcus gave a tight smile. “He’s charming. Dangerously so. But let me be very clear—you’re not there to fall for him. You’re there to keep him in line, understand?”
I scoffed. “Fall for him? Sir, I’d rather get hit by a city bus.”
And I meant it. Mostly. I don't plan on suicide any time soon.
---
The drive to the De Luca private club felt like stepping closer to a line I wasn’t sure I wanted to cross. I spent the time memorizing statutes and rehearsing legal protocol, trying to bury the memory of Ash De Luca’s smirk, the way his voice had clung to my skin like smoke.
What I hadn’t prepared for… was how he’d look in that velvet-lit room. Seated like a king of shadows, legs casually crossed, cigarette smoldering between two fingers, and that same untouched iced whiskey beside him like an accessory.
He didn’t bother standing when I walked in. Of course not.
“Navarro,” he said, slow and deliberate, as if tasting my name. “Back for round two?”
I set my folder on the table and sat across from him, spine straight, expression unreadable.
“Strictly business,” I said. “Let’s get started.”
His eyes sparkled, amused. “That’s what they all say.”
I didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, I opened the folder and began outlining the active investigations, cross-border shipment flags, and tax audit warnings. My voice was clipped, clinical, professional. He didn’t interrupt. He just watched me with unnerving focus.
When I reached page three, I paused, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Mr. De Luca—”
“Alessio,” he interjected. “Ash, if you’re tired of syllables.”
I ignored the flicker of something sharp and dangerous in his grin. “Mr. De Luca, we recommend you avoid public events for the next two weeks. Media attention is not in your favor.”
His head tilted slightly. “So you’re here to protect me?”
“No,” I said coolly. “I’m here to protect the firm.”
But even as I spoke, a tiny lie twisted in my throat. Because part of me did want to protect him. Or at least… understand him. And that scared me more than his reputation ever could.
Ash leaned forward, forearms resting against the mahogany table, gaze piercing.
“You’re not like the others,” he said quietly.
“Because I’m not scared of you?” I asked, voice softer than I intended.
“No,” he replied. “Because you’re not pretending you don’t care.”
My heart stuttered. A beat skipped. It felt like he’d reached inside me and flipped a switch I didn’t even know existed.
I stood abruptly, snapping the folder shut. “We’re done here.”
His smile returned, lazy and maddening. “For now.”
---
Back at the apartment, Leina was waiting with two glasses of red wine and a bowl of popcorn. She took one look at me and grinned.
“You look flushed. Did he compliment with you or locked eyes like he wanted to eat you up”
“Both,” I muttered, collapsing into the couch.
She laughed, but her voice turned serious. “Cel, I know that look. You’re intrigued. Don’t be. Men like him don’t flirt. They dismantle.”
I exhaled. “It’s nothing. It’s business. Strictly professional.”
I repeated that to myself like a prayer, knowing full well that prayers didn’t always reach the kind of gods that ruled Ash De Luca’s world.
---
The next morning, the elevator doors had barely opened when Eli slipped in beside me. He smelled like cinnamon coffee and bitterness.
“You’re working with De Luca?” he asked, his voice sharp.
I didn’t look at him. “That’s none of your business.”
“He’s dangerous, Celeste. He’s not a guy you flirt with for fun.”
“I’m not yours to protect anymore,” I whispered, not waiting for his response.
Eli didn’t follow me when I stepped out. Good. I couldn’t handle his wounded pride right now—not when my thoughts were already dangerously entangled.
---
Back at my desk, an envelope waited. No return address. Just my name, written in clean block letters.
I opened it cautiously.
Inside was a photo—grainy, zoomed in from a distance.
Me and Ash, sitting across from each other at the club. My mouth open mid-sentence. His eyes fixed on me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.
Beneath the photo, a single line in red ink:
“Careful who watches you, counselor.”
My blood ran cold.
And just like that… it wasn’t just business anymore.
It was personal.
And I was already way in too deep.
---
- Writer
