CHAPTER 7

The morning air is crisp, but Chloe barely notices as she steps onto the bus, her mind fogged with anxiety. The city feels different today—too loud, too sharp. Every passing car, every stranger’s glance, every footstep behind her feels like a warning.

By the time she reaches the café, her hands are cold, her nerves frayed. She forces herself to breathe, to move as if today is just another day. Because it has to be.

Nicholas is coming.

The thought alone sends a shiver down her spine. Yesterday, she only knew him as a wealthy businessman with too much charm and too many secrets. Today, she knows the truth—he’s a killer. A man whose world operates on silence, shadows, and blood. And she is standing right in his path.

Her mother notices her hesitation as she ties her apron. “Chloe, are you alright?”

She forces a quick nod, her smile brittle. “Just tired.”

Her mother hums in understanding, but her gaze lingers too long, filled with quiet concern.

The day moves in a blur of routine. Orders. Small talk. The scent of coffee thick in the air. But Chloe barely registers any of it, her senses too attuned to the anticipation building in her chest.

And then, just as the afternoon sun begins its descent, the door swings open.

Nicholas steps inside.

He moves with the same effortless confidence as always, his tailored suit pristine, his presence commanding. But now, Chloe sees him differently.

A predator.

His gaze sweeps across the café before settling on her. A slow, knowing smile curves his lips.

“Chloe.”

Her stomach twists into knots.

Play it cool. Don’t let him see.

“Mr. Romanov,” she says, her voice carefully neutral as she reaches for a cup. “The usual?”

He tilts his head, watching her closely. “You sound different today.”

Her hands freeze for half a second before she forces herself to continue.

“Do I?” She laughs lightly, though it feels hollow in her throat. “Must be the lack of sleep.”

Nicholas hums, stepping closer, resting his hands on the counter. His presence is suffocating—calm, controlled, dangerous.

“Lack of sleep…” he repeats, his voice smooth. “What’s keeping you up at night, Chloe?”

She grips the cup tighter, her pulse hammering in her ears.

This is a game.

And she has to play it well.

Chloe forces a breath, steadying herself. She won’t let him see her fear.

“Nothing interesting,” she says with a small shrug. “Just the usual—too much coffee, too many thoughts.”

Nicholas’s gaze stays locked on her, unreadable, intense. He isn’t buying it.

Too sharp. Too calculating.

She finishes preparing his coffee, sliding the cup across the counter. “Here you go.”

Nicholas doesn’t move to take it. Instead, he watches her, his silence stretching between them like a noose tightening.

Then, finally—

“You didn’t ask about my appointment.”

Her stomach drops.

Yesterday, Isaac had told her Nicholas wouldn’t come because of an appointment. It was supposed to be a casual remark, something she shouldn’t have even thought twice about. But now, Nicholas is testing her, waiting to see her reaction.

Chloe forces out a chuckle. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

He leans in slightly, his voice quiet but firm. “You’re always curious, Chloe.”

Her pulse spikes. Every nerve in her body screams at her to run, but she stays rooted in place, trapped under his gaze.

Play it cool.

She meets his eyes, willing her voice to stay steady. “I didn’t realize my habits were being monitored.”

Nicholas smiles, slow and deliberate. “I notice a lot of things.”

The words feel like a warning.

Chloe clenches her hands beneath the counter, forcing herself not to react. She knows what this is—a game of control, of power. And right now, Nicholas is watching, waiting for a crack in her composure.

She won’t give him one.

“Well,” she says lightly, picking up a cloth and wiping the counter, feigning indifference. “I hope your appointment went well.”

Nicholas watches her for another beat before reaching for his coffee. He lifts it to his lips, taking a slow sip, his eyes never leaving her.

Then, just as he turns to leave, he murmurs, “I’ll see you soon, Chloe.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving her standing there, her knees weak, her breath shaky.

The second he’s gone, she grips the counter for support, forcing air into her lungs.

He knows.

Maybe not everything. Maybe not yet.

But he suspects something.

And if she isn’t careful, if she makes even the smallest mistake—

Nicholas Romanov Fortune will find out exactly who she is.

And then?

She won’t get another chance to run.

She forces herself to breathe, to focus, but it’s like trying to hold onto a fleeting dream as it slips further away with each passing second.

She doesn’t even realize she’s still gripping the counter until her fingers begin to tingle with the absence of movement. She slowly releases her hold, her palms now slick with sweat.

The café feels quieter now, emptier, even though it’s still full of the usual hum of customers and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. But to Chloe, it’s all just noise—distracting her from the thought that is echoing through her mind like a drumbeat.

Nicholas knows.

And she knows, with a sickening certainty, that he’s not going to stop.

He’s playing a game. And she’s in the middle of it.

She tries to shake off the panic creeping up her spine. This isn’t the time to lose control. The day isn’t over yet, and she can’t let her fear show.

Her mother comes over, glancing at her with concern. “Chloe, are you okay? You look pale.”

Chloe forces a smile, masking the storm inside her. “Just tired, I guess. Late night.”

Her mother studies her for a moment, but then nods and walks away, leaving Chloe alone with her thoughts.

The rest of the shift goes by in a blur, the minutes stretching into hours. Her hands move on autopilot, making coffee, wiping tables, taking orders. But her mind is elsewhere, trapped in a loop of questions, fears, and the nagging suspicion that every action she takes is being watched.

She forces herself to focus.

Don’t let him get inside your head, Chloe. Not yet. Not until you have a plan.

The café empties out, and she’s left cleaning up. By the time the last customer leaves, it’s dark outside. The quiet of the café feels oppressive, like the calm before a storm.

When the final door closes behind her, she leans against the counter, exhausted in body and soul.

Tomorrow. Nicholas will be back tomorrow.

Chloe grabs her bag and heads for the door, the familiar chill of the evening air hitting her face as she steps outside. The bus stop is just a short walk away, and she wraps her coat tighter around her as she moves briskly, wanting to get home as quickly as possible.

The streets are quieter now, the world around her oblivious to the internal chaos she’s drowning in. Each step feels like a countdown.

What happens when he finds out?

The question gnaws at her as she boards the bus. Her hands grip the railing, her mind spiraling. She tries to push thoughts of Nicholas aside, but they keep creeping back, his dark eyes, the way he made her feel as though he could see straight through her.

Chloe stumbled into her apartment, the weight of the day—of Nicholas’s lingering presence and the suffocating dread of what might come—crashing down on her. She barely managed to lock the door behind her before she sought refuge in the one place where she could finally be alone: the bathroom.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lone candle on the vanity. The bathtub, already filled with steaming water, beckoned like a sanctuary. Without another thought, she slipped out of her coat and stepped into the tub, letting the warmth envelope her. The water, scented faintly with lavender, was a temporary balm against the cold fear that clung to her like a second skin.

Chloe sank down slowly, the water rising around her, and allowed herself to close her eyes. For a long moment, she simply floated, her body relaxing even as her mind raced. She listened to the gentle dripping of the faucet—a rhythmic, almost hypnotic sound—and tried to focus on it, on the simplicity of the water, rather than the complicated mess that was her life.

In the darkness behind her closed eyelids, memories flooded in—fragmented images of a past she had fought so hard to bury. The faces of those involved in the violent murder she’d witnessed, the cold terror of that night in Venice, and the testimony that had shattered lives. She clenched her eyes shut tighter, unwilling to see any more, yet unable to escape the sensations it conjured.

Her thoughts drifted inexorably to Nicholas. His piercing eyes, his calculated smile—they haunted her, even in the sanctuary of these warm waters. How could a man so steeped in power, so dangerous, evoke feelings that were both terrifying and magnetic? She felt both repelled and irresistibly drawn to him, and the contradiction sent her heart pounding faster.

For a long time, Chloe allowed herself to simply exist in the tub, soaking in the water and the solitude. The steam blurred her vision as if to muffle the noise of the world outside, and she focused on the simple rhythm of her breathing, on the beating of her heart. Each breath was a silent prayer, a desperate wish to find clarity in the chaos.

As the water cooled imperceptibly, she began to think about tomorrow—about what she would do when Nicholas returned. The thought of him brought a fresh surge of anxiety, mingled with a strange sort of determination. She couldn’t let him uncover her secret. Not yet. Not when everything was on the line.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, staring at the dark water, watching as the candle’s flame danced in the ripples. The reflection in the tub looked tired, haunted, but also defiant. Even in her vulnerability, there was a spark of resilience. She reached out and cupped a handful of water, letting it run through her fingers like the fleeting passage of time.

In that quiet, solitary moment, Chloe promised herself one thing: she would fight. She would protect the truth at all costs—even if it meant facing the demons of her past head-on. The warmth of the water was only temporary, a fleeting comfort. When the tub was empty, the chill of reality would return. But for now, she allowed herself this brief reprieve.

She whispered to the silence, “I won’t let him find out who I am.” The words trembled in the steamy air, a vow that resonated deeply within her.

With a final shuddering breath, Chloe knew that tomorrow, when Nicholas returned, she would have to be stronger than ever. Because in this dangerous game, one misstep could mean the end—not just of her carefully constructed life, but of her very existence.

For now, all she could do was soak in the fleeting warmth and hope that, somehow, she’d manage to keep her secrets hidden.