The Billionaire Infiltrator

Chapter 2: Elloise

Chapter 2: Elloise

The sound of my bedroom door closing was the loudest noise in the quiet house. I stood in the center of the dark room, resting my forehead against the cool wood of the door, and took a long, slow breath.

My father thought I was just a quiet girl who stayed in her room, painted her nails, and followed his rules. He thought if he gave me expensive clothes, gold jewelry, and a big bedroom in his Long Island mansion, I would forget about the dark business he ran down in the basement.

He was wrong.

I turned around and walked over to my desk. Taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I slid my hand beneath the dark velvet lining of the bottom drawer until my fingers touched a small, metal USB drive. I pulled it out, holding the tiny piece of metal in my hand.

For the past six months, every single time my father made me host a dinner party for his business partners, I kept my eyes open. I watched where he hid his keys. I memorized the security codes he typed into his office keypad. Late at night, while the rest of the house slept, I slipped into his study, copied his financial records, and saved every scrap of evidence I could find.

Human trafficking. Illegal weapons sales. Extortion. Money laundering.

It was all on this drive. I was building a case big enough to bring down his entire empire. Once I had enough names and account numbers, I was going to hand everything over to federal prosecutors in exchange for witness protection for myself and my younger brother. We were going to disappear, leave this blood money behind, and live normal lives under new names.

I was so close. I just needed two more weeks to copy the master ledgers from his offshore accounts.

Then he hired Colton Ragnar.

I crossed the room to the window and pulled the curtain back an inch, looking down at the courtyard below. Standing near the stone fountain was my new bodyguard. He wore a simple black t-shirt and dark pants, his hands resting easily at his sides as his dark eyes scanned the perimeter of the lawn.

He didn't move like the other guards my father hired. Most of the men working for my family were loud, sloppy, and easy to trick. They spent their shifts talking on their phones or sneaking drinks behind the garage.

Colton was different. He didn't relax. He didn't look bored. Every movement he made was smooth, quiet, and completely controlled. When he looked up toward my window, I pulled back into the shadows before he could spot me, my pulse quickening in my chest.

You look expensive for a broke mercenary.

That was what I had said to him in my father's study. It wasn't a lie. Everything about him felt wrong for a hired gun down on his luck. His posture was too straight, his eyes were too sharp, and he looked at my father with a subtle, hidden coldness that made my skin prickle. A desperate, broke man bowed his head and begged for money. Colton stood like a man who was used to giving orders, not taking them.

If he stayed three steps behind me everywhere I went, I would never be able to sneak back into my father's office. He would catch me in a heartbeat.

I needed to test him. I needed to see how fast he really was, and if I could break his focus.

I tucked the metal drive safely under a loose floorboard near my closet, changed out of my dress into a black hoodie and dark sneakers, and waited.

It was two in the morning when the house finally fell completely silent.

I unlocked my bedroom door, easing it open without making a sound. The long hallway was dim, lit only by small nightlights set into the baseboards. I stayed close to the wall, step by step, avoiding the squeaky floorboards near the top of the stairs.

My plan was simple. The kitchen on the main floor had a side door that led to the gardens. The security camera above that door had a ten-second blind spot every time it rotated toward the driveway. If I could slip past the kitchen and reach the gardens, I could pretend I was just taking a walk to test the guard rotations—or better yet, find a way to slip into my father's detached office building while everyone was asleep.

I reached the bottom of the grand staircase, staying low. The kitchen door was straight ahead, slightly ajar. A faint warm light spilled out onto the dark marble floor.

I held my breath, listening carefully. Nothing. No footsteps, no voices.

I took three fast, silent steps toward the door. My hand reached out, my fingers wrapping around the cool metal handle. I pulled it open half an inch, preparing to slip through into the night air.

A thick, dark arm reached past my shoulder, slamming the heavy wooden door shut with a solid thud.

I gasped, spinning around, my back hitting the door hard.

Colton stood inches away from me. He didn't sound out of breath. He hadn't made a single sound walking up behind me. Up close, he towered over me, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim hallway light. The faint scent of rain and cold night air clung to his clothes.

His dark eyes held mine, completely unbothered by the fact that it was two in the morning and he had just trapped his boss's daughter against a door.

"Going somewhere, Miss Eclipse?" he asked, his voice low and raspy in the dark hallway.

I swallowed hard, keeping my chin up and trying to hide the way my heart was hammering against my ribs. "I was getting a glass of water."

Colton raised an eyebrow, his gaze dropping down to my black hoodie, my dark pants, and my laced-up sneakers. "You wear running shoes to drink water?"

"I like to be comfortable," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. "Step back, bodyguard. You're standing too close."

He didn't move. In fact, he leaned in slightly, his dark gaze tracking the movement of my eyes as I tried to look for an exit route.

"Your father gave me very clear instructions," Colton murmured, his voice smooth and steady. "No late-night walks. No sneaking out. And definitely no wandering around the house in the dark."

"I live here," I said, leaning forward until my face was only inches from his chest. "This is my home. You're just a hired servant taking a paycheck from my father."

A faint, dangerous smile touched the corner of his mouth, but his eyes remained completely cold. "Then you should go back to bed, Miss Eclipse. Before your servant has to carry you there."

Anger flashed through me, hot and sharp. I pushed against his chest with both hands, trying to force him back so I could walk away.

He didn't budge an inch. It was like shoving against a solid brick wall. Instead, his hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. His grip was firm, holding me steady without hurting me, but the sheer strength behind it made my breath catch in my throat.

He looked down at where my hand rested against his chest, right over his heart. Beneath his black t-shirt, his heartbeat was slow, steady, and completely calm.

"You're fast," I whispered, staring up into his eyes. "Too fast for someone who spent the last five years sitting in a military squad room."

"I told you in the study," Colton said softly, his fingers loosening slightly around my wrist, though he didn't let go. "I don't fail."

"Everyone fails eventually," I said, pulling my arm back. This time, he let me go. I stepped away from him, smoothing down my hoodie and trying to regain my composure. "You can watch me all you want, Ragnar. But you can't stay awake forever."

"Try me," he replied.

I turned around and walked back toward the staircase, feeling his dark eyes on my back every single step of the way. When I reached the top landing, I looked down over the railing.

Colton was still standing near the kitchen door, watching me. He pulled a small silver object out of his pocket—a heavy, expensive-looking lighter—and flipped it open with one hand, letting the small flame light up his face for a second before snapping it shut.

That lighter cost more than a normal bodyguard made in a month.

I hurried back to my room, locked the door, and leaned against it, my pulse racing. Colton Ragnar wasn't just a guard. He was a threat to everything I was trying to build.

If I wanted my freedom, I was going to have to find out who he really was—before he found out what I was hiding under my floorboards.