Isla did not expect the safe house to be what it was.
No deserted hut in the woods, no subterranean bunker.
It was instead, a sleek penthouse with a view of the Hudson far atop the city, away from the view of prying eyes.
The type of place only a man like Damien Cross would think of as a hideout.
He said nothing as he ushered her inside. A soft snick as the door slid shut, separating them from the world outside.
Isla swallowed hard, nerves frayed.
“Tell me the truth,” She turned to face him.
“How bad is this?”
Damien’s jaw worked, his hands slipping into his pockets as he looked her over.
“Your father struck a deal with Sergei Antonov,” he finally said.
“You were the collateral.”
She exhaled sharply. “Collateral,” she said again, the word bitter on her tongue.
Damien’s gaze d
