Between You and the Bullet

Seen through the glass from fifty floors above Manhattan, the city at night hardly looked real.

Countless lights glittered far below against the black, and even the streams of traffic moving through the streets seemed like veins of polished jewels.

That evening, the top floor of a hotel owned by Sterling Group was hosting a charity gala organized by the family foundation.

More than three hundred guests had been invited—leaders from finance, law, real estate, the arts, and politics. Nearly every name belonged to someone who had appeared at least once in the business pages or the society columns.

Audrey Sterling stood at the center of it all.

Her deep navy gown left her shoulders bare without looking ostentatious. The jewels at her throat were elegant rather than excessive. Even so, whenever she crossed the ballroom, heads turned almost without thought.

The only daughter of the Sterling family.

And the woman widely expected to inherit one of the country’s most powerful business empires.

Audrey had carried those labels for more than a decade.

“Tonight’s donations are on track to surpass last year’s.”

At the voice beside her, Audrey lowered the glass in her hand.

Julian Ashford was smiling.

Black tuxedo. Immaculate dark hair. Whether greeting an investor who approached them or acknowledging an elderly couple across the room with a polite nod, he moved with exactly the same effortless ease.

Audrey had never been sure how much of it was learned and how much had simply been bred into him.

Probably both.

“We haven’t closed the books yet,” she said. “I don’t celebrate numbers before they’re final.”

“That sounds like you. Even when you beat the target, you start wondering how much higher it could have been.”

“That’s called doing my job.”

“I think you’re allowed to forget about work for one night.”

Julian reached over and smoothly took the nearly empty glass from her hand.

“You shouldn’t have another. You have a board meeting first thing tomorrow morning, don’t you?”

His tone was thoughtful.

It always had been.

After a long day, he would suggest she cut back on coffee. After dinners that ran late, he arranged the car before she had to ask. He remembered appointments Audrey herself occasionally forgot.

When they first began seeing each other, she had thought of it as kindness.

She still did.

And yet lately, now and then, another thought had begun to surface.

Julian seemed to want to know everything about her—even the things she had not asked him to manage.

“That was only my second glass.”

“You get tipsy faster when you’re tired.”

“So?”

“So tonight, listen to me.”

He was still smiling.

Audrey smiled back and took her glass from him.

“Too bad. I’m the host tonight.”

“You really are stubborn.”

“You’re only figuring that out now?”

Julian gave a small shrug and let the matter drop.

That kind of exchange was nothing unusual between them.

Before long, the final remarks began onstage and applause swept through the ballroom. Audrey took her turn at the microphone, thanking the donors and guests.

The words went exactly as planned.

The smile went exactly as planned.

The applause came exactly as planned.

The evening was perfect.

At least while she remained inside the ballroom.

It was a little after eleven when Audrey saw off the last of the major guests, thanked the remaining staff, and left the event space.

Rather than use the elevators reserved for hotel guests, she took the staff corridor.

The sharp click of her heels echoed softly through the now-empty passage.

Perhaps because the ballroom had been filled with music and conversation only minutes earlier, the silence felt unusually distinct.

Audrey opened the door to her private dressing room.

Almost everything was exactly as she had left it.

Cosmetics arranged in front of the mirror. A light coat draped over the sofa. Her phone connected to its charger.

And in the center of the room—

a white envelope lay on the table.

Audrey stopped.

It was not a thank-you note tucked into a bouquet. It was not a message left by the staff.

There was no name written on it at all.

“Claire?”

She called into the hallway.

No answer.

Audrey hesitated for several seconds before reaching for the envelope.

Inside was a single photograph.

She recognized the scene immediately.

Tonight’s gala.

Audrey herself stood onstage, microphone in hand, smiling toward the guests.

The photograph could not have been more than an hour old.

It had not been taken by one of the official photographers.

The angle was wrong.

Whoever had taken it had been standing near the edge of the ballroom, somewhere partially concealed behind a column, using a long lens.

A red circle had been drawn over Audrey’s chest.

She turned the photograph over.

A single sentence had been written across the back in black ink.

You look beautiful when you think you’re safe.

Her breathing did not stop.

She did not scream.

But in the space of a few seconds, everything in the room acquired a different meaning.

The closed curtains.

The second door.

The mirror.

The silent bathroom beyond it.

The absence of sound no longer proved the absence of another person.

Audrey did not put the photograph back on the table.

She took her phone and stepped into the hallway.

The emergency exit she had barely noticed before suddenly looked much farther away.

The hotel’s head of security arrived within minutes. Ten minutes after that, Richard Sterling appeared.

He had apparently been on his way home after leaving the gala. His tie, normally immaculate, sat slightly crooked at his collar, and every trace of the social smile he wore in public was gone.

Richard said nothing when he saw the photograph.

Instead, he questioned the head of security. Who had access to this floor? Were there blind spots in the surveillance coverage? Were staff entry logs available?

The vaguer the answers became, the harder Richard’s expression grew.

“Have the police been contacted?”

“Yes, sir. They’re already on their way.”

“Preserve every second of surveillance footage. I want the names of everyone who worked this floor tonight.”

“Dad.”

When Audrey spoke, Richard finally looked at her.

“I’m fine. It could be nothing more than a particularly vicious prank.”

“Someone photographed you less than an hour ago and placed that photograph inside a restricted room. I do not call that a prank.”

“That still doesn’t mean—”

“You’re not staying at this hotel tonight. You’re going home. I’m doubling security.”

Audrey started to object, but her father continued before she could.

“And tomorrow morning, I’m assigning you a dedicated protection officer.”

Her brows drew together.

“I don’t need one.”

“This isn’t a discussion.”

“I have a schedule. I’m not going to spend every hour of the day with someone following two steps behind me—”

“You need one precisely so you can keep that schedule.”

His voice remained low.

He was not shouting.

That made it all the clearer that he considered the matter settled.

Audrey looked down at the photograph still in her hand.

The red circle.

Her chest.

Only a few hours earlier, she would have said this hotel belonged to the Sterling family.

The security staff worked for them. The employees worked for them. Everything here was controlled, monitored, protected.

This was supposed to be a safe place.

And yet someone had come close enough to watch her.

Close enough to photograph her.

Close enough to enter a room where they had no right to be.

And Audrey had never noticed.

“…Who are you assigning?”

Richard exchanged a brief look with the head of security.

“Nathan Mercer.”

The name meant nothing to her.

That night, Audrey had no way of knowing it belonged to the man who was about to change her life.