LOGINDamien’s POVFor once, I chose not to think.Not about Genevieve. Not about Alain. Not about Vaughn Enterprises quietly bleeding problems back home, or the kind of enemies that never slept.Paris had handed me an excuse, and I took it.Today was Celeste.Only Celeste.The café I chose sat on a quiet corner just off a fashionable street—glass façade, soft gold accents, linen-draped tables, the kind of place where the menu didn’t list prices because the people who came here didn’t ask. Celeste paused at the entrance, eyes widening just a little.“Damien,” she said, laughing under her breath. “This place looks like it judges people.”“It absolutely does,” I replied with a grin. “That’s part of the charm.”She tried to argue when the server handed us menus.“I can pay—”“No,” I cut in smoothly. “I’m paying.”She narrowed her eyes. “You always do this.”“I know,” I said pleasantly.That earned me a groan—and a smile she tried and failed to hide.We ordered far too much. Coffee that came wi
Celeste’s POVSeveral knocks came at the door. At first, I thought they were part of my dream. But then, my eyes popped open and I saw that I was still in the hotel room. Groaning, I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face into the pillow. My phone buzzed somewhere beneath the sheets—too late, obviously. I squinted at the clock and swore.I had overslept.“Coming,” I called hoarsely, dragging myself upright. My hair was a disaster. My mouth tasted like hotel coffee and bad decisions. I grabbed the nearest robe, tied it crookedly, and shuffled toward the door.It was probably Michael. Or Harper. One of them, judging me silently already.I yanked the door open.And froze.Damien Vaughn stood there, impeccably dressed, coffee in one hand, the picture of composed menace and control——and then he took one look at me and broke.He laughed. Actually laughed.“Oh my God,” I said faintly. “No. No. What are you even doing here?”“Good morning to you too,” he said, eyes openly amused as they
Genevieve’s POVI had learned how to disappear the hard way.Money went first. Then names. Then the foolish belief that anyone would come looking to save me.By the time the morning light leaked through the blinds of my apartment on the outskirts of Paris—far from the city’s polished streets and watched corners—I was already awake. The neighborhood stirred slowly, delivery trucks rattling past shuttered shops, voices muted and uncurious. It was the kind of place people passed through, not a place anyone bothered to remember.Sleep had come in shallow stretches, the kind that left the body resting but the mind alert. Being hunted had taught me that.I washed my face in the sink with cold water, avoiding the mirror’s reflection for longer than necessary. The woman staring back looked thinner, sharper, stripped of indulgence and artifice. I didn’t bother fixing what I couldn’t afford to soften.I dressed with intention.A long skirt. Sensible shoes. A faded cardigan that smelled faintly
Harper’s POVTall windows framed the street outside, Paris slipping past in slow, elegant motion. White tablecloths fell in crisp lines, untouched by wrinkles. Polished silver caught the glow from low lamps set deliberately far apart, casting small pools of light instead of flooding the room.Michael had chosen a beautiful, elegant restaurant near the fashion show venue. I should’ve been floating.Celeste had just conquered Paris. We were here to celebrate. Michael was across from me, close enough that I could reach out and touch him, his knee brushing mine beneath the table like an unspoken reassurance.Instead, my stomach was knotted so tight I could barely breathe.Michael noticed, of course.“You’ve been staring at that menu like it personally offended you,” he said softly. “What’s wrong?”I looked up at him, at the ease in his posture, the pride still lingering in his eyes from the show earlier. And suddenly it felt cruel to say it. To puncture this night with something ugly and
Nico’s POVThe cold pressed closer, forcing stillness. After a while, Sage spoke again, her voice quieter now. “My dad used to say things like this were good for you,” she said, staring at the far wall. “Cold. Hard work. Discipline.”I glanced at her. “Sounds… intense.”A corner of her mouth lifted. Not a smile. More like a shield. “It made us tough,” she said. “My mom and I. We learned how to take a hit and keep standing.”Something in the way she said hit made my chest tighten.I didn’t ask. Didn’t push. Just nodded slowly. “Strength like that usually comes at a cost.”She looked at me then and for a split second, something raw flickered in her eyes. Too fast to name.“Yeah,” she said. “But it’s still a strength.” She paused for a while, then added, “But I guess there’s always a limit to what you can endure.”I nodded in understanding. “Especially when it’s not right anymore.” She gazed into my eyes. It seemed as if we understood each other even without words. I felt the connectio
Nico’s POVWe were in the final days at the ranch before the grand opening. Everyone was busy. “I’ll go,” I said, reaching for my jacket.Sage didn’t even look up from the clipboard. “No.”I paused. “No?”She finally lifted her head, one brow arching. “One kiss does not entitle you to field trips, hero duties, or my company in remote, possibly haunted sheds.”I almost smiled. Almost.“No matter what you think, that’s not my purpose, okay?”She snorted softly and went back to checking boxes. “I can handle it.”“I know,” I said easily. “I just want to help. Promise.”She studied me then—really studied me—like she was checking for hidden motives the way you’d check for loose boards before stepping forward.“Nothing more?” she asked.“Nothing more,” I said. “Scout’s honor.”Her lips twitched despite herself. “You were never a scout.”“I was rebellious,” I said solemnly. “It’s a character flaw.”She sighed, already defeated. “Fine. But don’t get any ideas.”“I left my ideas in the truck,”







