The soft light from chandeliers lit up the restaurant, creating a cozy and elegant atmosphere.
People chatted quietly as silverware clinked on fine china, soft jazz played in the background, and the delicious smells of grilled steak and aged wine filled the air around tables covered in clean white tablecloths.
Alex Ramos adjusted his badge and checked his watch. Again.
Across from him, his partner Jenna took another leisurely sip of her wine, clearly entertained by his impatience.
"Well, your matchmaking effort was a total waste today," Alex muttered, shooting her a look of mild irritation. "She isn’t here, so I should probably take my leave."
Jenna rolled her eyes. "You’re impossible, you know that? Maybe she just got caught up in traffic."
"Or maybe she wasn’t interested in a blind date with a detective."
"Or maybe you should stop acting like this is a murder investigation and relax," Jenna countered. "God, no wonder you’re single."
Alex exhaled through his nose, already regretting letting his partner talk him into this. He had zero interest in forced romance, especially when orchestrated by someone else.
But she had insisted, saying she knew someone who’d be perfect for him.
"One dinner," she’d said. "Worst case, you get a good meal. Best case, you stop being a stubborn pain in my ass."
So far, all he’d gotten was an empty chair across from him and a growing sense of irritation.
He was just about to push his chair back when the restaurant doors swung open.
A hush fell over the room.
Two large men in tailored suits entered first, scanning the room like trained security. Their movements were sharp, and their faces were serious.
Alex did not need to be told that they were bodyguards... highly skilled and well-trained. He immediately straightened, his instincts on high alert.
Then, between them, walked a little girl.
She was small, probably around eight or nine years old, but she carried herself like a queen looking over her court.
Her glossy black hair was tied up in a neat high ponytail, and her bright green eyes scanned the room with a thoughtful expression that seemed much older than her age. She wore a designer dress and shiny shoes, and a confidence that said she belonged here.
The moment she stepped forward, her guards parted for her like a royal procession.
And then her gaze landed directly on him.
Alex noticed Jenna tense up next to him, making him straighten his back as the tension tightened in his shoulders.
The girl walked confidently, completely unfazed by the curious looks being cast her way. The entire restaurant seemed to collectively hold its breath as she made her way to his table.
Without hesitation, she stopped at his side, tilting her chin up.
"Mr. Ramos?" she asked in clear, well-polished English.
Alex exchanged a glance with Jenna, then looked back at the little girl. "…Yes?"
Without waiting for an invitation, she slid into the chair across from him. The waiter hesitated for a moment, then quickly brought her a glass of sparkling water.
She accepted it with a graceful nod, took a slow sip, then set it down with perfect composure.
She folded her hands neatly on the table.
"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting," she said in a businesslike tone. "There was slight traffic from the airport. Shall we begin?"
Alex blinked.
Jenna blinked.
The entire restaurant—at least, those still watching—seemed frozen in confusion.
Alex leaned forward slightly, looking amused. "And you are…?"
The girl met his gaze without hesitation. "I'm Pearl Reed," she declared. "And I’m representing my mom today."
He arched a brow. "Representing your mom?"
She nodded. "Yes. She needs a husband, and I need a daddy."
Silence.
For a long moment, Alex could only stare.
He was a trained detective, a highly skilled negotiator, and secretly, the boss of one of the most powerful underground mafia syndicates in the country. He had faced down murderers, arms dealers, and rival mafia leaders without breaking a sweat.
But an eight-year-old just walked into one of the city’s most expensive restaurants and proposed marriage negotiations like a seasoned diplomat.
He had no idea how to respond to this.
Jenna, on the other hand, was barely holding in her laughter.
"Excuse me," she wheezed, covering her mouth. "Did you just say—?"
"I said, my mom needs a husband, and I need a daddy," Pearl repeated matter-of-factly. She took another sip of water before continuing, "You seem like a decent candidate."
Alex’s mouth twitched. "A… candidate?"
"Yes." Pearl nodded seriously. "You meet the qualifications. You have a respectable job. You have no known criminal record." She paused. "That I could find."
Alex’s brows shot up.
"You’re not ugly," she continued, as if evaluating a specimen. "And you have a very calm personality, which means you won’t stress out my mom too much. That’s a plus."
Jenna lost it.
Alex dragged a hand down his face. "You decided all of this?"
"Of course," Pearl said, looking almost offended at the question. "I did a background check."
"You did a background check? On me?"
Pearl nodded. "I wouldn't choose just anyone. My mom deserves the best."
Jenna leaned in, still grinning. "Alex, I love this kid."
Alex exhaled, turning back to Pearl. "Look, uh… Pearl, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I was here for a date, not an arranged marriage discussion with a seven, probably eight-year-old."
Pearl sighed dramatically. "I’m eight. And I knew you’d be stubborn. That’s why I came prepared."
She raised her hand, and one of her bodyguards stepped forward to hand her a folder.
Alex instinctively tensed. Something about this kid screamed danger.
She slid the folder across the table.
He hesitated before picking it up and flipping it open.
His brain short-circuited.
MARRIAGE PROPOSAL AGREEMENT
He blinked. Read it again.
"You have twenty-four hours to consider," Pearl said smoothly. "I expect an answer by tomorrow."
Jenna was now crying with laughter.
Alex slowly set the folder down. "I… I don’t think it works this way, Pearl."
"Why not?" she countered.
"Because marriage isn't something you negotiate like a business deal!"
"That’s exactly how business deals work," Pearl pointed out. "And you and my mom are both business-minded people, so it’s the most logical approach."
Alex opened his mouth and then closed it. He had nothing.
Before he could formulate a response, Pearl pulled out her phone.
"Let’s take a picture,” she said, turning her back towards him from her seat.
"A—what? No—"
Click.
She took a selfie, grinning. Then she smirked.
"Perfect. Now I have proof we met."
Alex groaned. "Kid—"
"You have twenty-four hours," Pearl interrupted, sliding out of her chair. Her guards immediately moved to flank her. "I’ll see you soon, Mr. Ramos."
And just like that, she turned on her heel and strode out, her bodyguards opening the door as she left.
Alex stared at the empty chair, his mind struggling to process what had just happened.
Jenna wiped away tears of laughter. "Oh my God, Alex," she gasped. "You are so screwed."
Alex just ran a hand down his face.
What the hell just happened?
The estate was too quiet.Ava walked through the front door quietly, her boots making no sound on the polished floor. She didn’t pause in the foyer or say anything to Eleanor. She didn’t even glance at the kitchen, where the warm smell of jasmine tea lingered.Instead, she went straight to her study.Once the heavy door shut behind her, she leaned back against it, her pulse still galloping from the chaos at the penthouse. She could still see the fed’s badge flashing in the soft, sterile light, could still hear Alex’s voice inside her head. “Run. Now.”So she did.But now she was back… alone. The weight of what had been lost threatened to crush her where she stood.She crossed to her desk, dropping into the leather chair with a thud. Her eyes swept over the mess of files and encrypted drives, the fragments of war plans and digital trails. And at the centre of it all, there it was: Rafael’s faint but unmistakable handwriting, scrawled in the margins of a burned copy of the stolen ledg
“We move. Now!”Alex grabbed Ava’s hand and didn’t wait for consent. Her fingers clenched his instinctively as they turned towards the narrow hallway behind the velvet-draped casino floor, disappearing behind a mirrored panel that led to the service corridors.Ava cursed herself under her breath.They should’ve seen the play… should’ve known Isabella would never let things play out easily. Her trap hadn’t been physical; it had been psychological. And Ava, desperate, enraged, predictable, had walked right into it.They darted through the dim corridor, footsteps muffled against the faded carpet. A staff member turned a corner ahead, eyes widening.“Back kitchen,” Alex whispered. Ava nodded.They slipped into a corridor lined with supply crates and walk-in refrigerators. A waitress nearly dropped her tray of champagne flutes as they brushed past. Ava offered no apology. The noise from the main floor was swelling now, shouts, confused patrons, the thudding rush of security boots.“Left,
The Black Orchid wasn’t just a casino; it was an experience. The chandelier glimmered like a cluster of stars, filling the room with warm gold and deep red light that danced over the high-stakes tables and elegantly dressed guests shrouded in mystery. Ava Reed walked in with the grace of a blade wrapped in silk.Her crimson dress clung to her frame, slit high up one thigh, where her custom sidearm lay strapped, hidden and silent. Every step she took was calculated, a queen on a warpath, dressed to kill, hiding every intention behind red lips and velvet grace.Alex followed a step behind, tux sharp enough to draw stares, his dark hair slicked back.Ava hated that it suited him. Hated that her eyes kept drifting to him. Hated how dangerous he looked, and how much she liked it.She exhaled softly. Focus.From across the roulette pit, Ava spotted her mark: Dorian Valette, an arms dealer with a whiskey voice and a reputation for selling nightmares in bulk. He leaned against the bar in a
The scent of smoke still clung to Ava’s jacket like an accusation. It crawled beneath her collar, ghosted through her hair, and refused to let her forget the fire and failure of the night.She paced the length of her study, every step tight and calculated, as if she were walking the edge of something sharp. Her hands were clenched by her sides, her breath too shallow, her mind caught in an endless loop. “Vincenzo got away. The crates were empty. They were meant to be there.”On the leather couch, Alex sat quietly, his left cheek bruised from the debris blast. He didn’t speak at first, letting her wear her fury down to something she could use. She stopped by the window, hands braced against the frame. “We walked into a goddamn theater,” she muttered. “We followed fake intel into a firework show. Isabella’s playing me like a fool.”“No,” Alex said, rising. “She’s playing us. And she’s overplaying her hand.”Ava turned to him sharply. “That was a warning, Alex. That explosion wasn
Morning light streamed through the curtains, filling Ava's room with a warm glow that highlighted her sheets. She slowly woke up, wrapped in the peaceful silence of her bedroom, still feeling the warmth of Alex’s touch on her skin. The night before was intense, filled with unspoken emotions, need, and anger intertwined.But now, it was morning. The real world crept back in.Downstairs, laughter rose.Pearl.Ava pushed off the covers and sat up with a quiet groan, her shoulder aching. Her robe hung from the armchair. She slipped it on, cinching the belt tightly, willing herself to breathe past the pain. The scent of coffee, and… was that bacon?, greeted her as she padded down the hall.She paused in the kitchen doorway.Alex sat at the marble island with Pearl perched beside him, her workbook spread wide across the countertop. His sleeves were pushed up, his wristwatch glinting under the morning light, and Pearl was mid-frown, pencil tapping her chin.“I still don’t get it,” she grum
The warehouse sat on the outskirts of the city, looking old and rundown. Its metal walls were rusty, and the tall windows were dirty from years of neglect. Inside, the air smelled musty, filled with grease and old oil. Dust danced in the sunlight coming through the rafters, giving the place a strange, eerie feeling.Ava moved quietly, her heels softly tapping against the concrete. She kept her hand near her gun, relaxed yet prepared. Ahead of her, Alex walked with an air of tension, his coat trailing behind him and his jaw clenched so tightly that she could see the muscle twitching near his temple.Near the back, under a single flickering bulb, stood Marco.“You’re late,” Marco rasped, flicking a cigarette ash onto the floor. His eyes darted toward Ava. “You bring her here now? You’re in deep, Ramos.”He tossed a manila folder onto the metal table between them. The slap echoed, followed by the soft crackle of shifting pages.“The Calabrians know,” Marco added in a low voice. “They