"I have emails," Hannah whispered, lips brushing Atlas's. "Aaron's private server. Proof he bribed officials for the land deals. Dates, amounts, bank transfers."
Atlas's hand gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him. "Access?"
"His study safe. Combination's his birthday backward." Her chest heaved. "But Westfield... Aaron handles that. I only hear late-night calls that are usually tense. Mostly something about stock dumps."
"Whispers aren't enough." Atlas's fingers dug into her hip, voice low thunder. "Give me something solid. Or prove your loyalty another way."
Hannah's breath hitched, eyes darkening as his thumb traced her collarbone. Heat pooled between her thighs, traitorous want surging despite the chill. "I can get the emails. Tonight. But you... Atlas, please."
He spun
