Chapter 4.

The apartment is silent when I wake, the kind of silent that has weight to it.

Daniel is already up, moving around the kitchen with a careful, deliberate quiet, like noise itself might start a conversation neither of us is ready to have.

I get dressed without a word. He makes coffee without a word.

We move around each other like two people who've memorized the choreography of avoiding a collision, and it's worse than shouting would have been.

At the door, I pause, keys in hand, waiting for something. He doesn't look up from his coffee.

I leave.

Isa doesn't ask why my eyes are red when I walk in. She slides a folder across the table like nothing has changed.

"Rafael left the gala for something," Jake says, scanning his screen, "and word is the brothers are hosting a private auction in the evening, together. Invite only."

"If you played your cards right yesterday, you'd already have the invitation," Isa says, not looking up from the folder.

"Looks like I played them just fine." I set the black card on the table. "He gave me his number. Or tried to.”

"Tried to?"

"I told him I don't give my number to men I just met. Made him work for it instead."

Isa's mouth twitches, the closest she comes to approval. "Call him now. Accept. This is the deepest access we've had into the Marchetti operation in years, weapons brokers, art thieves, men who don't exist on paper. Both brothers running the room means both sides of the business are exposed in the same night."

I picked up my phone and dialed his number.

"I was starting to think you'd lost my number," Rafael says, warmth threading through every word.

"I told you I don't give mine easily. Doesn't mean I forgot yours," I remind him.

"I know. That's why I'm surprised you called," he admits, a smile audible in his voice.

"You sound disappointed," I tease.

"Quite the opposite," he says. "I was wondering when I'd get another chance to see you."

"Planning something?" I ask, suspicion sharpening my tone.

"Actually, my brother and I are hosting an auction this evening," he says, a note of amusement creeping in.

He pauses, then says, "It's an exclusive one. We host it once a year. I'd like you there. As my guest.”

"I'll think about it."

I already know I'll say yes. But some habits, even fake ones, are hard to break.

"Fine. See you later."

I spot Cassie passing by and step away from the table to catch up with her.

"Cassie."

She turns. "Hey."

"About yesterday," I say, keeping my voice low. "I don't appreciate you going to my fiancé giving him a hint about what's going on."

Her expression shifts. "You're right. I'm really sorry about that.”

"Good. I just wanted to make that clear."

"It won't happen again," she assures me.

…..

Evening arrives faster than I'd like.

"Hold still," Jake says, threading the wire through the clasp of a diamond necklace laid across black velvet on the table. "Delicate work requires stillness. You are, historically, not still."

"I'm being still."

"You're vibrating. Subtly. Like a phone on silent." He tightens the final connection and holds the necklace up to the light. "There. Wired for sound and dripping in forty thousand dollars of federal evidence. Try not to lose it in a hot tub."

"There's not going to be a hot tub, Jake."

"There's always a hot tub. Rule one of rich criminals." He fastens the necklace around my throat, careful in a way that has nothing to do with the wire and everything to do with the worry he carries every time he watches me walk into a room like this one. "If things go sideways, you say 'code blue.' We'll hear it. We'll come."

"I know the protocol."

"Doesn't stop me from saying it." His grin flickers, thinner than usual tonight. "If you happen to walk out with something shiny that isn't evidence, I will not report it. Hazard pay."

We laugh it off, the tension between us easing.

Isa appears in the doorway. "Car's here. Both Marchettis will be running the floor tonight, not just hosting from the sidelines. Stay sharp."

The warning follows me all the way to the private estate, an address so exclusive it doesn't appear on any map Jake could pull.

Security here makes the gala look careless, two full body scans, a metal detector, a woman running a handheld wand slow and thorough down every inch of me.

The wand pauses at my throat. Beeps.

My pulse stutters. Exposure, arrest, an alley nobody would find me in.

"Diamonds," I say, forcing boredom into my voice. "They do that sometimes."

"Ma'am, I need to remove the necklace to confirm."

"Elena." Rafael's voice cuts through the tension. He appears at my side like he's been waiting just out of sight. "She's with me."

The guard hesitates. "Mr. Marchetti, protocol says—"

"Protocol also says my guests don't get manhandled at the door." His tone stays light, but something underneath it leaves no room for argument. "I'll vouch for the necklace personally. I picked it out."

The guard waves us through, and I don't breathe again until we're well past the entrance, swallowed into golden light and quiet murmuring crowds.

"You didn't have to do that," I say.

"I know." His eyes flick briefly to the necklace, and for one unsettling second I wonder if he can somehow feel the wire humming beneath the diamonds. "But I like the idea of people knowing you're mine to worry about tonight, cariño.”

I smile like it's flattering instead of terrifying, my heart still hammering from a threat he'll never know he just saved me from.

The auction room is nothing like I expected. No gavel, just low lighting, quiet music, and men who've never once had to ask the price of anything, scattered across velvet seating with drinks they barely touch.

At the front, a raised platform sits flanked by two chairs, one empty, one already claimed by Adriano, who watches the room settle with the stillness of a man cataloguing every face in it.

"Most of these people already know each other," Rafael murmurs, guiding me toward two open seats near the front. 

A woman in black lifts a velvet cloth from a glass case. Inside sits an antique brooch, gold and sapphire, centuries old, reportedly stolen from a European estate decades before either twin was born and passed quietly through private hands ever since.

"Opening bid, fifty thousand," the woman announces, and the numbers climb with an ease that makes my stomach turn. This isn't money to these people. It's punctuation.

I raise my paddle before I've fully decided to.

Rafael glances at me, eyebrow lifting. "Careful. That's not exactly real estate money."

"I like beautiful things." I keep my eyes on the platform. "Rare things."

The numbers keep rising. Other paddles drop away, unwilling to chase whatever point I'm apparently determined to prove.

When the final number lands, absurd, obscene, entirely the Bureau's problem, the room has gone quiet enough that I can hear my own heartbeat.

"Sold," the woman says, "to the lady in red."

Applause ripples through the room. Rafael leans close, something unreadable flickering behind his easy smile now. "Well. You're full of surprises tonight."

I don't answer right away, because across the room, I feel it before I see it, the particular pressure of being watched by someone who doesn't blink first.

Adriano has risen from his chair on the platform, glass of scotch untouched, pale eyes fixed on me with an intensity that has nothing to do with the brooch.

He doesn't look away when I meet his gaze. Neither do I.

"Interesting," Rafael says quietly, following the direction of my stare, something tightening in his jaw. "My brother doesn't usually leave the platform mid-auction."

"Looks like you've caught his attention," he murmurs, watching Adriano across the room. "Can't say I blame him.”

The auctioneer moves on, but I barely hear the opening bid of the next item. Adriano finally sets down his glass, his attention fixed on us as he starts walking toward our table.