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“He wasn't interested in her. She was simply the most interesting inconvenience he'd encountered in years.” ~ At 2:13 a.m., Rex Thompson was ready to commit a felony against her Wi-Fi router. “I'm warning you,” she muttered, glaring at the blinking red light. “I have a degree, a career, and absolutely nothing left to lose.” The router blinked again. Rex took a deep breath. She was twenty-seven, a cybersecurity engineer, and technically an adult. She paid rent in Manhattan, remembered to buy groceries approximately sixty percent of the time, and had recently managed to keep a houseplant alive for almost three weeks. She was doing remarkably well. Unfortunately, her internet connection had chosen violence. After restarting the router for the fourth time, she opened her network diagnostics. Her own connection was dead, but one neighbouring signal appeared unusually strong. VALE_PRIVATE_5G Rex frowned. Kane Vale. Apartment 19B. Her neighbour of three months, a man who spoke approximately twelve words a week and looked like he had been personally designed to ruin someone's ability to concentrate. She had seen him eleven times. On the eleventh occasion, she'd walked into a glass door while attempting to look casual. She was still recovering emotionally. Now his suspiciously powerful Wi-Fi was interfering with hers. Rex glanced at the clock. 2:13 a.m. A sensible person would contact their internet provider in the morning. Rex grabbed her phone, pulled on her fuzzy slippers, and marched into the hallway. She knocked on apartment 19B. Three times. Hard. “Kane! I know you're in there!” Silence. “I can hear your extremely suspicious lack of movement!” A lock clicked. The door opened. And Rex immediately forgot the speech she'd prepared. Kane stood in the doorway wearing black sweatpants and absolutely nothing else. Oh. That was deeply inconvenient. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and unfairly handsome, with dark hair that looked slightly disheveled and a faint scar running along his ribs. His expression suggested she'd interrupted something important. Possibly sleep. Possibly a criminal conspiracy. She wasn't ruling anything out. “Can I help you?” he asked. His voice was low and rough with sleep. Rex recovered approximately forty percent of her intelligence. “Your Wi-Fi is interfering with mine.” He stared at her. “That's why you're standing outside my apartment at two in the morning?” “Two thirteen, actually. If we're establishing a timeline, accuracy matters.” Something shifted in his eyes. Almost amusement. “Your name is Rex, isn't it?” “Depends. Are you a debt collector?” “Your neighbour.” “Exactly what a debt collector would say.” The corner of his mouth moved. Rex folded her arms, immediately regretted how aware she was of his bare chest, and unfolded them again. “Your network is overpowering mine. Either you've got industrial-grade equipment in there, or your Wi-Fi is training for a military operation.” “Contact your provider.” “I did. They told me to restart the router.” “Did you?” She gave him an offended look. “Do I look like a woman who would be standing in your hallway if that had worked?” His gaze briefly dropped to her fuzzy slippers. “Hard to say.” Rex gasped. “You're funny.” “I wasn't joking.” “That's worse.” She showed him the diagnostic information on her phone. His expression changed when he saw the application. “You understand network diagnostics,” he observed. “No, I enjoy pressing random buttons and hoping the internet feels appreciated.” He looked at her phone case. “Circuit board design.” “Very good. You've identified a picture.” “You work in cybersecurity?” Rex narrowed her eyes. “Why? Are you worried I'll discover your secret criminal empire?” For a second, Kane said nothing. Then he stepped aside. “Show me the interference.” Rex hesitated. “Is this where you murder me?” “If I intended to murder you, I wouldn't invite you inside first.” She stared at him. “That is a deeply concerning answer.” “You asked.” Against her better judgment, she entered apartment 19B. The place was immaculate. Dark furniture, spotless counters, expensive electronics. No photographs, no clutter, and no evidence that an ordinary person had ever lived there. It looked like a psychological thriller with excellent interior design. Rex inspected the monitors near his desk. “Your apartment is aggressively masculine.” “What does that mean?” “If I found one throw pillow, I'd assume you'd kidnapped someone and wanted them to be comfortable.” Kane folded his arms. “Are you always like this?” “Charming? Yes.” “I was going to say exhausting.” “That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week.” She ran a few scans, checking the available channels and signal strength. His network was unusual, but nothing immediately proved it was causing her connection problems. “Interesting,” she murmured. “What?” “Your signal fluctuates at regular intervals. Could be a secondary access point. Could be interference. I'd need to investigate further.” “Could someone access your network through it?” “Depends on your security settings.” “And if they're good?” “Then someone would have to work considerably harder.” “How much harder?” Rex looked up. “Most people ask me what I do for a living before interrogating me about cybersecurity.” “I assumed you worked with computers.” “Brilliant deduction. Was it the laptop?” She laughed. It was spontaneous, bright, and entirely unplanned. Kane went still. He'd spent years learning to notice everything: the nervous movement of a man's hands, the hesitation before a lie, the moment someone's confidence became fear. It was how he'd survived. But Rex Thompson laughed as though the world had personally offended her and she'd decided to make it everyone's problem. She was intelligent, irritating, and completely unaware of how dangerous it could be to walk into a stranger's apartment without a second thought. He should have found her foolish. Instead, he found himself listening for the next thing she'd say. He dismissed the thought almost immediately. She was a neighbour. Nothing more. “Anyway,” Rex said, “your network isn't entirely responsible. I'll check a few things on my end tomorrow.” “Send me the report.” She stared at him. “Are you serious?” “Yes.” “You want a report?” “I'd like to understand the issue.” “Kane, darling, if I wanted to spend my nights writing reports for handsome men, I'd have chosen a very different career.” His eyes returned to hers. “Handsome?” Rex froze. Excellent. She had complimented the suspicious neighbour who might or might not be a criminal. She decided to commit. “Don't get excited. I have eyes. It would be irresponsible not to acknowledge the situation.” “What situation?” “The situation in which you look like that and have the personality of an encrypted file.” For the first time, Kane laughed. The sound transformed his face. For one brief moment, the coldness softened, revealing a man who looked almost approachable. Rex's stomach performed an embarrassing little somersault. She hated him immediately. For safety reasons. “Well,” she said, stepping toward the door, “this has been educational.” “Leaving already?” “It's nearly three in the morning. I have work, rent that should qualify as financial abuse, and a dying basil plant that requires emotional support.” “You own a basil plant?” “Owned. It's in critical condition.” “I'm sorry to hear that.” “Don't be. It knows what it did.” He walked her to the door. Before leaving, she glanced at the security keypad beside his entrance. “Why so much security?” “Old habit.” “From what?” “Work.” She waited for more information. He offered none. “Wow. We need to work on your conversational skills.” “I'm told they're adequate.” “By people contractually obligated to tolerate you?” “Something like that.” She shook her head. “Goodnight, Kane.” “Goodnight, Rex.” She took two steps toward her apartment. “And if your router kills my internet again, I'm changing your network password to ILoveFelines1998.” “I don't have a cat.” “Neither do I. That's what makes it funny.” She disappeared into apartment 19C. Kane closed his door and stood silently for several seconds. Then his phone vibrated. LUCA: We need to speak. Tonight. Kane typed a reply. KANE: Tomorrow. LUCA: You said that yesterday. KANE: Then you already know what to expect. He put the phone down. Across the hall, something crashed. “YOU ABSOLUTE PIECE OF s**t!” Kane closed his eyes. He wondered whether the router had finally met its end. Then he returned to his desk. He had more important things to worry about. Two years ago, his father had been murdered. Someone inside the Vescari organisation had betrayed the family, and Kane had disappeared before the resulting power struggle could swallow him whole. Now, living under the name Kane Vale, he was quietly investigating the people responsible. His real identity was a liability. His family name was a target. And the woman living across the hall had no idea that her neighbour was Kane Vescari, the missing heir to a criminal empire. She also had no idea that the cybersecurity software she'd helped develop might be connected to the financial trail surrounding his father's death. Kane didn't know that part yet. He only knew that his neighbour was loud, clever, and entirely too comfortable insulting him. He would investigate the software connection when the evidence arrived. He would keep his distance. He would not think about her laugh. He would not wonder whether she always spoke to strangers as though she'd known them for years. And he certainly wouldn't become interested in a woman whose most pressing concern appeared to be the emotional wellbeing of a basil plant. Across the hall, Rex finally managed to restore her internet. She saved her work, closed her laptop, and collapsed onto her bed. “Tomorrow,” she announced to the ceiling, “I'm becoming a normal person.” Her phone buzzed with a message from her best friend. MAYA: Did you confront the hot neighbour? REX: Unfortunately. MAYA: Was he shirtless? Rex stared at the screen. REX: This conversation is over. MAYA: THAT MEANS YES. Rex threw her phone onto the pillow. She wasn't attracted to Kane Vale. She was simply aware of his appearance. There was a distinction. Probably. In apartment 19B, Kane glanced toward the wall separating their homes. Then he turned back to his work. He had a name to reclaim, a traitor to find, and an empire waiting to discover whether its missing heir was dead. The last thing he needed was Rex Thompson. He just didn't know yet that she would become the one thing he would never willingly give up.