Between Floors Fifty and Fifty-One

My phone buzzed nonstop on the glass nightstand, Preston’s name lighting up the dim room. I ignored it, keeping my eyes on the red security monitor where my older brother glared straight into the elevator camera.

Dominic didn't look the least bit worried. Lifting me off his lap, he set me down on the edge of the mattress and stood up.

He walked over to the velvet armchair in the corner and picked up my emerald silk dress and trench coat—both dry and freshly pressed.

"My staff took care of them," Dominic said, tossing the clothes onto the sheets beside me. "Get dressed. Your brother’s about three minutes away from tearing my lobby apart. Take the private service elevator down to the south garage. He’s waiting."

I gathered the clothes against my chest, my skin still warm from his touch. "What about the Elysium case?"

"Safe in my vault," Dominic replied, turning his back to give me privacy as he buttoned a fresh white dress shirt. "Go deal with Marcus and take your name back. I’ll see you at Sinclair Global at nine."

Ten minutes later, I stepped off the service elevator into the underground garage. Marcus Kensington stood beside an armored black SUV, his arms crossed. The second he spotted me, the anger on his face gave way to relief. He crossed the concrete in two strides and pulled me into a tight hug.

"Two years," Marcus muttered, holding me by the shoulders to check my face. "I gave you two years to play house with that parasite, Sienna. It’s over."

He reached inside his suit jacket and pressed a heavy, matte-black Kensington Centurion card into my palm.

"The freeze on your trust is lifted, and your security detail is on standby," Marcus said. "No more hiding."

"I need to get to Sinclair Tower," I said, closing my fingers around the metal card. "Preston and Chloe are presenting my formula to the board at ten. And my mother’s emerald pendant is still locked in the upstairs lab safe."

Marcus’s eyes narrowed. "I’ll buy the whole damn building and burn it to the ground."

"No," I said. "This is my mess. I’m going to ruin them myself."

At eight forty-five, I walked through the glass revolving doors of Sinclair Global Headquarters, trading my soaked boots for designer stilettos.

Bypassing the crowded main lobby, I swiped my lab pass at the VIP express bank and stepped into an empty mirrored elevator heading for the fifty-first floor.

Right as the steel doors slid shut, the rubber tip of a black titanium cane jammed between them.

The doors slid back open. Dominic stepped inside, sharp in a midnight-blue suit with his black leather gloves back on his hands. He didn't press a floor button. Instead, he reached out and hit the red emergency stop.

The car jolted to a halt between the fiftieth and fifty-first floors.

I lost my footing, and Dominic caught me, spinning me around until my back hit the mirrored wall. He crowded in close, his broad chest boxing me in as his gloved hands framed my face.

"Dominic—"

His mouth came down hard on mine, swallowing the rest of his name. The heat from the penthouse flared right back up in the cramped cabin. He tasted like black coffee, his mouth rough and demanding as he backed me against the glass. One gloved hand tangled in my hair, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss, while his other hand dropped to my waist and gripped my hip hard enough to bruise.

I fisted his lapels, kissing him back with everything I had until he finally broke away, his breath hot against my skin as his mouth dragged along my jaw.

"You belong with me," Dominic murmured against my neck, his gloved thumb tracing my pulse. "Remember our deal today, Sienna. When you walk into that boardroom, you don't look at him. You only look at me."

"I’m getting my mother’s pendant first," I whispered, still catching my breath.

Dominic pulled back half an inch, his grey eyes dark under the emergency lights, and pulled the red switch back out.

The elevator hummed back to life, rising for three seconds before the chime rang.

The doors parted onto the fifty-first-floor lab wing.

I smoothed my trench coat and stepped out into the corridor—then stopped dead on the polished tile.

Ten feet away stood Chloe Sutton. She had my stolen Elysium backup cylinders cradled in her hands—and resting right against her collarbone was my mother’s emerald pendant.