Chapter 2

​Liam POV

​The hallway of the apartment building smells of rot and old grease. I pull my cashmere coat tighter. My pride pushed me to follow her. I need to know why a girl in a fifteen dollar blazer has the mind of a financial titan.

​I find Room 302. Bella Smith. I knock. The sound is a gunshot in the quiet hall. I hear a floorboard creak inside. She is standing behind the door. She is holding her breath.

​"Open up, Bella. I know you are in there."

​The door opens a crack. One eye stares at me. She looks small. She looks terrified. Her glasses sit crooked on her nose. She is a mess. But her eyes? They are sharp. They are defensive.

​"Mr. Sterling? Why are you here?"

​Her voice trembles. She is a bad liar. I see her hesitation. She wants to slam the door.

​"You left your ID at the office."

​I hold up a plastic card. It is a blank key. A trap. She reaches for it. I grab her wrist. Her skin is ice. I pull her closer to the gap.

​"The Vane heiress went missing today," I say. I watch her pupils. They dilate. "She is a genius. She is arrogant. And she disappeared exactly four hours before a girl named Bella Smith showed up at my office with no background and a senior-level brain. What a coincidence."

​Isabella does not flinch. Her expression goes flat. A cold wall of stone takes its place. This is not the reaction of a poor intern. This is the practiced mask of a socialite.

​"I do not know who that is," she says. Her voice is a jagged blade. "Is that why you are here? To accuse your employees of being missing celebrities? Check my resume, Mr. Sterling. I am a nobody from a community college."

​I shove my shoulder against the door. The frame creaks. I am stronger. I step into the room.

​It is a grave. A single bed. A cracked window. There is no luxury here. I feel a flash of irritation. If she is Isabella Vane, why is she living in filth? Is this a game?

​"If you are a nobody, why are you hiding in a hole like this?" I gesture to the stained ceiling. "Why do you walk like you own the street? Why did you fix the Davis projections in two hours? A community college girl doesn't know the Vane family's secret tax loopholes, Bella."

​Isabella backs away. She hits the wall. She looks at the window. She is calculating her escape. Her chest heaves. I see the flicker of shame in her eyes as I look at her small, sad room.

​"I am poor, not stupid," she snaps. Her pride flares. "I worked hard. I studied. Is it a crime for a girl like me to be better at your job than you are? Maybe you should hire better analysts instead of stalking your interns."

​I step into her personal space. I want to crush her denial. I want to see the heiress crack. I grab her chin. I tilt her head back.

​"Julian Miller was outside the office tonight," I whisper. "He was looking for someone. He looked right at you. You froze. You hid your face. Why?"

​Isabella’s breath hitches. Her pulse thunders against my fingers. She is paralyzed. For a second, I see the mask break. I see a girl who is drowning.

​"He... he didn't see me," she whispers.

​"So you were hiding from him."

​She bites her lip. She realizes her mistake. She pulls her head back with a jerk.

​"I don't like men in black cars. They mean trouble for girls in this neighborhood. Leave, Mr. Sterling. Or I will call the police."

​I laugh. The sound is dry. "With what phone? You don't even have a burner."

​I look at her. I see the bruises under her eyes. I see the way her ribs show under the cheap shirt. She is starving. She is freezing. But she would rather die in this slum than admit she is a Vane.

​My pride is a wounded thing. I hate her family. Her father ruined mine. But I hate Julian Miller more. Julian is a predator. If he finds her, he will break her.

​"I don't care who you are," I lie. I need her close to find out the truth. "I care about results. The Davis merger is a war. I need a brain like yours. You cannot work from a grave. You're distracted by the cold and the rats."

​I reach into my pocket. I pull out a wad of cash. I toss it on the bed.

​"Pack your things. You are moving."

​Isabella looks at the money like it is poison. "I am not for sale, Mr. Sterling."

​"You are my assistant. Assistants live where I tell them to live. I have a corporate apartment. It is safe. It has a lock. And it has food. If you want to prove you aren't an heiress, then act like a girl who needs a job. A girl who needs a job doesn't turn down free rent."

​Isabella looks at the window. She looks at the dark alley. She knows she is trapped.

​"Fine," she says. "But I am not Isabella. My name is Bella. Remember that. If you call me by that other name again, I quit."

​"We will see," I say.

​I lead her out of the room. I lead her to my car. She sits in the leather seat. She looks at the dashboard. She looks like she is coming back to life.

​I drive to my penthouse. I am not taking her to a corporate apartment. I am taking her to my home. I want her where I can watch her. I want to see her slip. I want to see if she knows how to use a French press or if she expects a maid to serve her.

​We reach the top floor. The elevator opens.

​"The guest suite is there," I point. "Sleep. We have a gala tomorrow night."

​Isabella pales. "A gala? I cannot go. I have nothing to wear."

​"You will go. You will wear what I provide. You will be my plus-one. No one will see your face. You will wear a mask."

​I walk to the bar. I pour a drink. My mind is a storm.

​"Why a gala?" she asks.

​"Because the Vane family will be there," I say. I watch her face in the mirror. "They are announcing the reward for their missing daughter. I want to see how they react when I walk in with a mystery woman who knows all their secrets."

​Isabella stands in the center of the room. She looks at the luxury. She looks like a queen in a peasant's rags.

​"I am a weapon to you," she says.

​"You are a genius, Bella. Weapons are only useful if they stay sharp. Get some rest."

​Isabella nods. She walks toward the suite. She stops at the door.

​"Goodnight, Liam."

​She uses my first name. It feels like a brand.

​I sit on my sofa. My phone buzzes.

​It is a text from Felix. “The Vane family just hired a private investigator. They are tracking the bus routes from the gala.”

​I look at the guest room door. I look at the message.

​The hunt is on.

​Isabella POV

​The door clicks shut. I lean against it. My heart is a drum.

​He knows.

​Liam Sterling knows I am Isabella Vane. He is playing a game. He wants me to confess. He wants to own the Vane heiress to use against my father.

​I look at the white marble bathroom. I look at the silk sheets. It is a trap. A beautiful, expensive trap.

​I go to the mirror. I look at my hacked hair. I look at my tired eyes. My reflection looks like a stranger. Good. That is the goal.

​"I am Bella Smith," I whisper. "I am a nobody."

​I turn on the shower. The water is hot. I scrub my skin until it is red. I feel the shame of my weakness. I let him bring me here. I let him see my room.

​Liam thinks he is the hunter. He thinks he is using me to hurt my father.

​Fine. Let him think that.

​I will use his home. I will use his clothes. I will use his protection. I will learn everything about Sterling Tech.

​Julian called me a calculator in a dress.

​I look at my reflection. My eyes are cold.

​A calculator is only useful if it gives you the answer you want.

​I am going to give Liam an answer he never expected.

​I lie down in the soft bed. I am tired of being a ghost.

​Tomorrow, I face my father. Tomorrow, I face Julian.

​And I will do it right under Liam Sterling's nose.

​I am almost asleep when I hear a sound. A soft click.

​The guest room door is opening.

​I freeze. My hand slides under the pillow. I find a heavy glass lamp. I do not breathe.

​A shadow moves into the room. It is tall. It is wide.

​"Bella?"

​It is Liam. His voice is a low rasp. He is standing by the bed. He does not move closer.

​"What do you want?" I ask. My pulse thunders in my ears.

​"I forgot to tell you," he says. I can smell the Scotch. I can smell the power. "The dress for tomorrow is in the closet. It is red. Try not to bleed on it."

​He leaves. The door shuts.

​I reach for the closet. I pull the handle.

​Inside is a red gown. It is identical to the one the woman was wearing on the terrace with Julian.

​My blood runs cold.

​He isn't just suspicious. He is mocking me. He knows I was there. He knows what I saw.

​The war has started. And I am losing.