Dangerous Tenderness

Chapter 3

The storm had fully claimed the city by the time the elevator reached the ground floor.

The glass-and-steel lobby of Grave Industries, blindingly bright during the day, was now dimmed to a low amber glow. Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the streetlights outside into blurred streaks of yellow and red.

Isadora stepped out of the elevator, her coat pulled tightly around her shoulders. Her handbag was tucked beneath her arm, and her phone felt strangely heavy in her pocket.

The message was gone.

But the words remained in her mind.

Ask Lucien what happened the night your father disappeared.

She walked toward the revolving doors.

A night security guard sat behind the main desk, his attention fixed on a wall of security monitors.

Then a sleek black sedan pulled up outside.

The passenger door opened.

A driver stepped out with a large black umbrella.

Isadora slowed.

The driver wasn't looking for a taxi passenger.

He was looking directly at the entrance.

Before she could decide whether to return to the elevator, it chimed behind her.

She turned.

Lucien Grave emerged.

He wore a dark coat over his shirt, his expression calm and unreadable.

He didn't look surprised by the waiting car.

His eyes went directly to Isadora.

"I told you not to take the train."

"I didn't say I was taking your car."

"It isn't a gesture of courtesy."

He stopped a few feet away.

"It is security."

Isadora crossed her arms.

"I can get home by myself."

"The vehicle is armored. My driver, Marcus, will take you directly to your building."

"And what about you?"

"I have business to attend to."

"Business related to my father?"

Lucien's expression remained unchanged.

"Business related to keeping this company solvent."

"That's not an answer."

"No," he said quietly. "It isn't."

Isadora looked toward the car, then back at him.

"Who sent that message?"

"If I knew, they wouldn't have been able to send it."

His voice dropped.

"Whoever it is knows you work here. They know about your father. They may even know what you found in my office."

A chill moved through her.

"How do you know that?"

"Because someone has been asking questions about you."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Then how do you know they're dangerous?"

Lucien's eyes hardened.

"Because they asked me first."

Isadora stared at him.

He stepped closer.

"Right now, you're vulnerable because you're curious."

"I've already lost everything I have."

For the briefest moment, something softened in his expression.

Then it disappeared.

"Then don't lose your life."

He reached toward her coat and gently pulled the collar tighter against the cold air coming through the doors.

The touch lasted only a second.

"Get in the car."

Isadora hesitated.

Then she walked outside.

---

The ride across Veylora was silent.

Marcus drove with steady precision through the rain-slicked streets.

Isadora sat in the back, watching the city pass behind tinted glass.

The expensive towers of the upper district gradually disappeared, replaced by old buildings and narrow streets.

Every time headlights appeared behind them, she glanced at the side mirror.

But nothing happened.

At exactly 7:15 p.m., the car stopped outside her apartment building.

Marcus looked at her through the rear-view mirror.

"I'll wait until you enter."

"Thank you."

Isadora stepped into the rain and hurried up the stone steps.

She unlocked the building door.

Before going upstairs, she glanced back.

The black sedan remained at the curb.

Only after she disappeared inside did it drive away.

---

"Isadora?"

Her mother's voice came from the kitchen.

Clara Blake appeared in the doorway wearing a faded wool shawl.

Her face looked tired.

"You're late, darling."

"The traffic was terrible."

Isadora removed her wet coat.

Her mother took it from her.

"Did the job go well?"

"Yes."

"Are they treating you well?"

Isadora forced a smile.

"They're demanding."

Clara gave a small laugh.

"Your father always said you were stubborn enough to survive anything."

The mention of Edward made Isadora pause.

She watched her mother carefully.

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Did Dad ever mention a man named Lucien Grave?"

Clara froze.

The change was immediate.

Her hands tightened around the coat.

"Where did you hear that name?"

"At work."

"Isadora..."

Her mother lowered herself into a chair.

"I remember that name."

Isadora's heart began beating faster.

"How?"

"Your father received an envelope shortly before he disappeared."

"What kind of envelope?"

"Black."

Clara's voice trembled.

"No stamp. No return address."

"What was inside?"

"I don't know."

She looked toward the window.

"Your father opened it in his study. I remember seeing his face afterward."

"What did he look like?"

"Afraid."

The word hung between them.

"Did he say anything?"

Clara shook her head.

"He burned the letter."

"And then?"

"Three days later, he disappeared."

Isadora stared at her mother.

"Did he ever mention Lucien Grave?"

"No."

Clara looked directly at her.

"But I remember seeing the name on the envelope."

Isadora's stomach tightened.

The message flashed through her mind.

Ask Lucien what happened the night your father disappeared.

Someone knew.

Someone knew about the envelope.

And they wanted her to ask questions.

"Why are you asking about him?" Clara whispered.

"Just trying to understand Dad's business."

Her mother studied her.

"Be careful, Isadora."

"Why?"

"Men like Lucien Grave live in a world where power matters more than people."

Isadora looked away.

"I'll be careful."

---

Later that night, Isadora lay awake in her bedroom.

The storm continued outside.

The clock showed 11:16 p.m.

Sleep refused to come.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the black folder.

Her father's name.

Lucien's expression.

The mysterious messages.

Then her phone chimed.

She reached for it.

An unsaved number.

But the message immediately told her who it was.

01:02 AM — Grave: Marcus confirmed you're inside. Lock the terrace window. The latch is loose.

Isadora sat up.

She stared toward the small terrace window.

The latch really was loose.

She had known about it for months.

She had never told Lucien.

She quickly typed:

Isadora: How do you know about my window?

His answer came almost immediately.

Grave: I know the layout of every building on that block.

Her heart began to race.

Then another message arrived.

Grave: I also know who owned this building before you moved in.

Isadora stared at the screen.

Isadora: Who?

There was a pause.

Then:

Grave: Your father.

She stopped breathing.

Another message appeared.

Grave: Edward Blake bought the building six months before he disappeared.

Isadora's fingers trembled.

Isadora: Why?

The reply took longer this time.

Grave: To protect your mother.

Her eyes widened.

Isadora: From what?

No answer.

She stared at the screen.

Then her phone began ringing.

Lucien Grave.

She answered.

"Lucien?"

"Look out your window."

She slowly got out of bed.

"What?"

"Look outside."

Isadora walked toward the terrace.

She pulled the curtain aside.

Across the street, beneath a dying streetlight, sat a dark silver car.

Her heart stopped.

A figure sat behind the wheel.

Even through the rain, she recognized him.

Lucien.

He was holding his phone to his ear.

"Why are you here?" she whispered.

His voice came through the phone, calm and low.

"Because I don't trust tonight."

"Are you watching my apartment?"

"I'm watching the street."

"Why?"

Lucien's eyes lifted toward her window.

"Because the person who sent that message isn't waiting until tomorrow."

Isadora's pulse quickened.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that someone knows where you live."

She looked toward the locked front door.

Then toward the terrace.

"How do you know?"

"Because someone has been watching your building for the past twenty minutes."

Isadora's breath caught.

"Who?"

"I don't know yet."

She looked back across the street.

Lucien was still there.

"You should leave," she whispered.

"No."

"Lucien—"

"I'm staying."

"Why?"

There was a brief silence.

Then his voice softened.

"Because your father left you with more enemies than you know."

Isadora swallowed.

"And you're not one of them?"

Lucien didn't answer immediately.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

"That's what I'm trying to prove."

The rain hammered against the window.

Isadora's hand tightened around the phone.

"Lucien..."

"Lock the terrace window."

She looked at the latch.

"Done."

"Check the front door."

She walked into the hallway and checked the lock.

"Locked."

"Good."

She returned to the window.

Lucien was still sitting in the car.

His pale eyes remained fixed on the building.

"Go to sleep," he said.

"How am I supposed to sleep after everything you've told me?"

"You don't have to sleep."

"Then what should I do?"

"Stay inside."

His voice became serious.

"And if you hear anything outside your door, don't open it."

Isadora looked toward the hallway.

"Why?"

"Because tonight, I don't know who I can trust."

A sudden movement caught her attention.

Someone had appeared at the far end of the street.

A dark figure beneath an umbrella.

Isadora's breath caught.

"Lucien."

"I see them."

The figure stopped beneath the streetlight.

Then slowly turned toward her building.

Lucien started his car.

"Isadora, step away from the window."

She obeyed.

"Why?"

"Because whoever that is..."

His voice was suddenly sharper.

"...just looked directly at your apartment."

Isadora's heart pounded.

She moved away from the glass.

Outside, thunder shook the city.

And somewhere below, a car door slammed.

Lucien's voice came through the phone one final time.

"Stay inside, Isadora."

A pause.

"I'm coming upstairs."