The rain hit the pavement in quick, sharp bursts as Cassandra hurried down the slick streets of Phoenix. Her heels clicked against the wet concrete, echoing in the near-empty alleyways. The night had shifted since dinner, colder now, more unpredictable—like the city itself. She pulled her coat tighter around her, the collar brushing against her cheek, but it did little to fend off the chill that wasn’t just from the weather.Her phone buzzed again. Another alert from Phoenix Analytics: Unusual activity detected near downtown warehouse. The message was brief, but the implications weren’t. Someone was watching, or worse, moving. Cass’s mind raced. Could Leo’s warnings be more urgent than she’d dared believe?Turning a corner too quickly, she nearly collided with a man stepping out of the shadows. His face was obscured by a hood, but his stance was calm, purposeful.“Careful,” he said, voice low but steady. “This part of town isn’t safe after dark.”Cass hesitated, sizing him up. Strange
Cass didn’t believe in coincidences, but she had been running into Leo far too often for it to be chance. A gala, a coffee shop, a quiet bookstore—three different places in two weeks, each time unplanned. Or at least, that’s what she was supposed to believe.Tonight was no exception. The hotel’s rooftop garden was mostly empty, the city spread like a jeweled tapestry below. She came up here for air, not company. Yet she heard the low hum of a voice before she even turned the corner.Leo Knight stood at the railing, the skyline’s gold and blue light catching in his dark eyes. He wasn’t dressed for a formal event—no tie, sleeves rolled to the elbow—but he looked like he belonged in every room he stepped into.“You follow me often,” Cass said, her tone casual enough to mask the undercurrent.His gaze shifted to her. “Or maybe we’re both drawn to the same places.”She didn’t answer, but her hand brushed the edge of the railing, noting the faint warmth. He’d been standing there a while. Ob
Cass strolled into Vance Street Roasters with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what she wanted—and exactly how to get it. The bell above the door chimed, letting in the scent of freshly ground coffee, dark chocolate, and ambition. She scanned the room once, her gaze snagging on a tall man in a tailored charcoal suit, seated by the window. He was reading something on his phone, his other hand curled around a coffee mug like it was an old friend.Leo Knight didn’t notice her at first—at least, he pretended not to. His focus was razor-sharp, but his awareness was sharper. He’d clocked her the moment she walked in. That dress, the subtle gold chain at her neck, the purposeful walk—everything about her screamed she’s not here for just coffee.Cass ordered a cappuccino, leaning against the counter like she had all the time in the world. In truth, her pulse was annoyingly quick. She had no intention of speaking to him today—not directly. This was reconnaissance. The man had appeare
The glass doors of the Langford Hotel opened with a hush, releasing the faint scent of polished marble and lilies into the evening air. Cass stepped inside, heels clicking too sharply in the vast lobby. She smoothed her silk dress—soft, fluid, her unspoken armor for the night.She hadn’t planned to be here, but in a city where whispers outran truth, presence was power. And the Langford was always the right place—deals sealed over cocktails pricier than rent, alliances forged under the glittering chandelier. Phoenix Analytics had taught her that information wasn’t found; it was positioned.Her gaze swept the room: a hedge fund manager boasting about a merger, a woman laughing too brightly at an old story. Cass slipped to the bar’s edge, shadows softening the lights, and ordered sparkling water—because even what you didn’t drink mattered.She’d just lifted the glass to her lips when a shift in the air made her glance toward the entrance. Across the room, she spotted him. Leo Knight. Lea
The ballroom glittered with a thousand golden lights, each crystal chandelier reflecting the wealth and power of the people beneath them. Cassandra Blake smoothed the silver satin of her gown, the fabric soft against her palm, a reminder to keep her mask in place. In this room, a smile was currency, and hers had been perfected through years of necessity.She drifted between clusters of tuxedos and evening gowns, the low hum of conversation weaving through the faint strains of a live string quartet. No one here knew she was the woman behind Phoenix Analytics, the discreet intelligence network whispered about in boardrooms and back alleys alike. They saw only the poised, mysterious socialite with eyes that revealed nothing. And that was exactly how she wanted it.A waiter passed with champagne, and she accepted a flute, using the motion as cover to scan the room. Investors, diplomats, and CEOs mingled beneath towering floral arrangements. Everyone here wore a mask, but hers was the most