CHAPTER 3: Straight Into Lies

The penthouse was how I expected a billionaire's house to be. It was massive, all glass and stone walls. The floors were polished grey concrete and the walls were furnished in a matte white. After all the noise in New Orleans, the silence here felt expensive.

Ronan dropped my bags by the door. The sound echoed off the high ceilings. He looked around the room, his shoulders dropping an inch.

"It’s yours for as long as you need it, Nir," he said. "Make yourself at home. I’m going to check the kitchen and see what we have for dinner. Go ahead and explore."

I nodded, wandering toward a side table near the hallway. It was cluttered with mail and a few stray keys, but a silver frame caught my eye. I picked it up, feeling the weight of the metal.

It was a photo of Ronan and Adrian. They were younger, standing in front of a brick building. Ronan had his arm over Adrian’s shoulder, both of them laughing. Ronan's face was relaxed. He didn't have the hard, guarded expression I had seen when we landed. I stared at Adrian's face, at the boyish handsomeness.

I looked at the photo and thought about the man I’d spent months talking to on the phone. That Adrian was warm. He was the one who knew my favorite colors and the things that kept me awake at night.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and felt my stomach turn. It was a private caller.

I hesitated, then answered. But I didn't say anything. I just waited.

"Nirvana? Nirvana, I know you’re there. You think you can just run away? You think your brother is going to pay what you owe me?"

My mother’s voice was thin. I could hear the clink of ice in a glass on her end. I tried to speak, to tell her to leave me alone, but my throat felt tight. I opened my mouth to finally speak but the line crackled, her words dipping in and out until the call cut off abruptly.

I was still staring at the screen when Ronan walked back into the room. He stopped when he saw my face.

"Who was it?" he asked.

I looked down at the phone. "It was Katerina. I think she just found out I left.", my voice trembled slightly and Ronan walked over. He took the phone from my hand. His face went hard.

"What did she say?"

"She said I can't run. She said I owe her." I looked up at him with glassy eyes. "Ronan, she sounded so sure of herself. What if she comes here?"

The thought of my mother separating me from Ronan again brought tears to my eyes. I did not want to return to her.

Ronan stepped closer and put his hands on my shoulders. "She isn't coming here, Nirvana. I don't care what she thinks you owe. You’re my sister, and you’re in my house now. I’m going to handle her. Do you understand me?"

"But I don't want to be a burden," I whispered.

"You aren't a burden. You’re family. Now, go to your room. It’s the last door on the right. Your things are already inside. Just lie down for a bit. I’ll make some calls."

I headed down the hall, but as I reached my door, I heard the front door open. I heard boots on the concrete, heavy and deliberate, before I inhaled the so familiar cologne. I knew who it was immediately.

I didn't mean to listen, but I stayed by my door as their voices rose in the living room.

"She’s in her room now. We just came in," Ronan said.

"You’re a fool, Ronan," Adrian’s voice growled. It was deep and rough, completely different from the voice that used to talk to me through the phone. "What were you thinking, bringing her here now? Of all the times, you choose now?"

"She was in trouble, Adrian. Katerina was ruining her, piece by piece. What do you suggest I do? I couldn't leave her there.", It sounded like Ronan was trying to keep his voice down.

"You should have told me," Adrian snapped. Then I heard him pacing. "The timing is a disaster. We have enough eyes on us as it is. Bringing- bringing her, here is a liability we don't need, Ronan"

"She’s my sister, Adrian" Ronan argued.

"She’s a distraction," Adrian countered. "I’m the one who has to watch the perimeter while you’re playing house. She shouldn't be here. She doesn't belong here, Ronan. She’s soft. She spends her days with a paintbrush. The second things get difficult, she’s going to break. And when she breaks, you’ll be the one picking up the pieces while the rest of us pay for it."

I leaned back against the wall, my chest aching. Soft. A liability. The man who had told me I was the strongest person he’d ever met was calling me a weakness. It felt like a blow to my stomach.

I thought about the Adrian from the phone, the one who understood my art. It felt like that man had been a character he played just to ease my pain. He said I would break. He thought I was weak. We had all stayed here then, how come he now thought I shouldn't be here.

"She’s staying," Ronan said firmly. "I don't need your permission to protect my family, Adrian."

"It’s not about permission," Adrian insisted, his voice dropping. "It’s about survival. Keep her in that room. I don't want her wandering around. I’ve got things to handle at the docks."

I heard the front door shut.

I stayed in the room for a long time, watching the city lights flicker through the window. Ronan came in once to check on me, but he looked distracted, his phone constantly buzzing. He told me he had to step out for an hour to handle some paperwork at the office and reminded me to keep the door locked.

Once I was sure I was alone, I stepped out into the living room. The apartment was dark. I walked toward the kitchen to get a glass of water, but I stopped when I saw a heavy leather jacket draped over the back of a chair.

It was Adrian’s. He was slightly muscular than Ronan so I knew.

I reached out, my fingers brushing the rough leather. It was cold and smelled of rain and iron. There was a patch on the shoulder, a silver skull with wings. I didn't know what it meant. It looked out of place in such a clean apartment. I pulled my hand back.

I turned to head back to my room, but a faint sound caught my ear. A soft, scraping noise coming from the balcony.

I walked toward the glass doors. I saw a small, black box sitting on the outdoor table. It hadn't been there when we arrived. I slid the door open and grabbed it. The cardboard was cold. When I pulled the lid off, I stopped.

Inside was a single white rose.

The petals were scorched, the edges black and brittle. Tucked into the stem was a small, hand-written note.

*Welcome to New York, Muse. We’ve been waiting for a new masterpiece.*

I dropped the box. The rose hit the floor and broke into ash. I looked out over the railing, but the streets were just a blur of taxis and people. Someone knew I was here. Someone knew my name. Muse.

I hurried back inside and locked the door. My chest was tight. I needed to call Ronan. I needed to tell him someone had been on the balcony.

But as I reached for my phone, the front door of the penthouse opened.

It wasn't Ronan.

The man in the doorway was tall and broad, his silhouette blocked by the light from the hallway. He stood there, watching me.

"I told you to stay in your room," Adrian said.

His voice was low. He didn't move toward me, but his presence seemed to take up the whole room.

"Someone was on the balcony," I whispered, holding the note in my shaking hand.

Adrian moved across the room quickly. He didn't look at the note first. He scanned the glass door, then he looked at me.

"What did you see?" he demanded.

"Just the box. The rose. Adrian, what is going on here?"

He didn't answer. He stepped past me and walked onto the balcony, looking over the edge. When he came back inside, he locked the door and pulled the heavy curtains shut, leaving the room in near-darkness. He turned to me, his face very close to mine. I could see the tension in his jaw.

"Give me the note," he said.

I handed it over. He glanced at it, then crushed it in his fist.

"Is it my mother?" I asked. "Did she find me already?"

Adrian looked at me, and for a second, the coldness in his eyes seemed to falter. He reached out as if he were going to touch my shoulder, but then he stopped, his hand dropping back to his side.

"It’s not your mother, Nirvana," he averted his gaze, his face to the side.

"Then who is it? Adrian, what is actually going on?"

He looked at the crushed note, then back at me. I could see the internal struggle on his face. He didn't want to explain the note or the person who sent it. Instead, he took a step forward, closing the small gap between us until my back pressed against the glass of the balcony door.

"You’re asking too many questions," he whispered.

His voice had lost that jagged, professional edge. It was low and rough, vibrating through the space between us.

He reached out and his hand finally making contact with my neck, making me to shiver slightly. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, his skin warm and slightly calloused.

I forgot about the scorched rose. I forgot about the note and the person who had been standing on the balcony. My world shrunk down to the heat of his palm and the way he was looking at my mouth. I closed my eyes as wet heat pooled in between my legs. It felt like I was speaking to him on the phone again. I felt his finger touch my earlobe and I snapped my eyes opened.

"You told Ronan I was a liability," I said, though my voice lacked any real bite like I intended. "You said I was soft."

"I said a lot of things to keep my head straight, Nirvana" he murmured.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. "But you’re standing here in my space, smelling like you did in my dreams, and I can't think about anything else."

He didn't give me a chance to respond. He tilted my head back and pressed his lips to mine. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was desperate and demanding, a release of all the tension he’d been holding since he entered landed. And I couldn't resist him, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel the weight of him against me.

In that moment, the threat outside didn't matter. There was only the taste of him and the way his hands felt as they slid down to my waist, pulling me to him in the dark.