Assassin's Last Billionaire

Inner voice

-River-

The room felt impossibly large with only the two of us left. Beyond the glass walls, the city’s hum blurred into nothing, swallowed by the weight of his presence. My fingers circled the stem of the untouched wine glass, holding it as a shield, pretending I didn’t hear the steady rhythm of his footsteps drawing closer.

Warmth brushed against my mouth. His fingers lingered, the pads grazing my lower lip in a slow, deliberate sweep, as though mapping every curve. The touch wasn’t tender. It wasn’t rough either. It was deliberate, calculated—too intimate to be casual. My breath caught, chest tightening against the sharp rush of my heartbeat.

I lifted my gaze. Lucian’s eyes locked on mine, dark, molten, unblinking. A slow, silent pull coiled between us, and the air turned heavy, difficult to swallow. His jaw was tight, but the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at something less controlled, something edged with hunger.

“You always do this,” he murmured, his thumb trailing to the corner of my mouth, the contact sending a shiver through me.

My voice came out low, uneven. “Do what?” “Make me forget…” His gaze flicked to my lips before returning to my eyes. “…everything I’m supposed to remember.”

A shiver chased down my spine. “And what is it you’re supposed to remember?” His mouth curved, but not into a smile, it was sharper than that. “That I don’t lose control.” The words lodged in my chest. He leaned in, closing the space until his breath slid over my skin, warm, edged with the faint burn of wine, carrying a silence that said more than speech could. I didn’t move.

Neither did he. His eyes searched mine like he was weighing something I couldn’t name. His mouth curved, not into a smile, but into a sharper, more dangerous shape. My fingers tightened around the edge of the chair. “Then don’t,” I whispered, though the sound came out thinner than I’d intended.

His eyes searched mine, a quiet, calculated pause, as though deciding whether to prove me wrong or prove himself right. For a heartbeat, I thought he would do it, erase the space between us and end this charged, unbearable stillness.

But then… “Not tonight,” he said softly, almost against my skin. The heat of him receded as he straightened, hand falling away. The room felt colder instantly. Without a backward glance, he turned, footsteps echoing in the hush until the sound was gone.

I stayed frozen, lips tingling, chest rising too quickly, telling myself I had the upper hand. But a tight knot in my stomach whispered otherwise. I told myself this was still part of the game. That the pull I felt wasn’t real, only a tactic I could turn against him. But the ache low in my chest, the heat still simmering in my skin… that wasn’t part of the mission. He’d walked away, but it didn’t feel like victory. It felt like being marked.

-Lucian-

I could still feel the shape of her mouth against my thumb. Ridiculous. The elevator doors slid shut, muting the quiet echo of my footsteps from the dining room. I told myself I’d left because restraint was a choice, not a necessity. But my pulse told another story.

Henry was already waiting in my office, a neat stack of papers in hand. He didn’t bother with greetings, he knew better.

“What do you have?” I asked, shrugging off my jacket and settling into the leather chair. “Everything you asked about… Ms. Danny,” he said, eyes flicking briefly toward mine, like testing if the name was personal. I didn’t give him the satisfaction.

He laid out the file, efficient, precise.

“Born in Iceland. Moved to UKN at sixteen. Studied nutrition at the University of Leeds. Father was a marine biologist, mother a teacher, both deceased. Only sibling is an older sister, living in Velmira. She’s had a few jobs—catering, private consulting, a short stint with an athletics team in Spain. No criminal record. No outstanding debts. Clean as they come.”

I flipped through the pages slowly, letting my eyes skim over each line. Her photograph stared back at me, ID format, plain lighting, but somehow her gaze looked the same as it did tonight. Guarded. Calculated. “What about… relationships?” I asked without looking up.

Henry hesitated, then cleared his throat. “One long-term partner in university. Ended two years ago. A few short-term… acquaintances since. Nothing remarkable.” I closed the file. “Everyone has something remarkable, Henry. It’s just a matter of knowing where to look.”

“She’s not hiding anything,” he said, a little too certain. He looked in my eyes, “But everyone is hiding something.” I leaned back, letting the silence stretch.

The truth was, I wasn’t looking for a reason to distrust her. I was looking for the reason she made me want to. “ Keep an eye on her and update me everything.”

---

Henry had barely left when my phone lit up on the desk.

Elena.

For a second, I considered letting it ring out. Then I swiped to answer, leaning back in the chair. “Elena.” Her voice came through raw, the kind of pitch that wasn’t entirely real but practiced enough to sound like it was. “Lucian… please. I need to see you.”

I glanced at the folder still open on my desk, Danny’s photograph staring up at me. “What for?” “It’s important. I wouldn’t be calling otherwise.” I let the silence stretch just enough to hear her breathing hitch. “Last time you said that,” I said evenly, “it was about a business contact… Contact my dad if you’ve any this time.”

“This isn’t that. I’m—” Her voice cracked, and she tried again, softer. “I’m not okay. I just… I need you to meet me. Tonight.” Through the glass wall of my office, the city glowed in clean lines and hard edges. I stared at the reflection—my own face, unreadable, as I weighed her words.

“Elena,” I said finally, “you and I both know you don’t call me unless you want something.” “That’s not fair—”

“It’s accurate.” There was a pause, long enough for me to hear the faint noise of traffic on her end, the hum of her breathing like she was trying not to push too hard. “Please, Lucian. One drink. That’s all I’m asking.”

I glanced again at the file. Danny’s eyes stared back from the photo, still guarded, still unreadable. And suddenly, I realized my hesitation had nothing to do with Elena’s plea— and everything to do with the fact that part of me didn’t want to leave this office until I’d read every line about her.

“I’ll think about it,” I said finally. Her breath caught like she’d taken it as a yes. “I’ll send you the address.” The line went dead before I could answer. I set the phone down, fingers tapping once against Danny’s file.

If Elena wanted to see me tonight, she’d get the version of me she’d never managed to control. And I wondered how she’d like the fact that someone else already had my attention.