But now? If I could go back and undo everything since that night in the museum—including not having our lives reconnect—I’d do it, if it meant keeping her safe. That’s the kicker though. If I hadn’t been there, she’d still be working for Mr. Edmond, and Ramirez’s suspicions would still put her in danger.
I drag a hand down my face, exhaustion and jet lag setting in like cement. How long do I have to wait before I can cross the hall and check on her without looking obvious? The chocolate torte sits where I left it—my flimsy excuse if someone catches us talking.
If I was concerned about the man following me in town today, I need to be extra mindful of the ones watching me inside the villa. One wrong move, and I won’t be the only one who pays for it.
A muffled yelp breaks through the quiet. My head snaps toward the balcony, and I’m on my feet instantly, pulling the door open. Jasmine fills the air as I scan the darkness. It’s too thick to see anything clearly, but something’s out there.
Another sound—scuffling. And a... whimper?
I move to the edge of the balcony railing with light steps. There’s a scraping noise, and then I see her. Cybil. Pressed against the other side of the railing, half buried in vines and trying very hard not to look guilty.
“What the heck are you doing?” I hiss.
She exhales hard, like a kid caught mid–cookie theft. When she finally looks at me, the guilt’s gone—just pure, unfiltered annoyance. “Oh, you know, just enjoying the night air.”
I assess her position—arms flexed tight on the railing, heels firmly planted on the cement ledge, dress wrinkled, twig in her hair like a fashion choice gone wrong. She’s not in distress. Just busted.
My fingers close around the ring in my pocket. I shouldn’t engage—not with Ramirez already suspicious and looking for cracks. But this is too good to pass up. Cybil’s one part chaos, two parts pride, and I’ve always been just dumb enough to poke a hornet’s nest.
I glance around. No witnesses. “Itisa nice night.”
She glares, her face flushed. “Do youmindhelping me before I fall to my death?”
“Oh, you won’t die if you fall. Just broken bones, probably.” I lean casually over the railing. “Make sure you aim for the bushes.”
She huffs. “Are you going to make me beg?”
I lift a brow. “Will you?”
“No.”
“Well, then.” I tap the railing and take a leisurely step back. “Enjoy yourself.”
She mutters something under her breath and starts shimmying sideways—until her foot catches on a vine.
Her yelp is the only warning I get.
I lunge, grabbing her arms just as she slips, my upper body yanked over the railing. My heart slams against my ribs as I strain to haul her up. “Seriously, Cybil?” I grunt.
She kicks, trying to help. All that does is shift her weight—and send us both crashing backward onto my balcony.
I hit the tile flat, air knocked from my lungs. She lands squarely on top of me.
For a second, we just lie there, both breathing hard.
Then she smirks. “I don’t beg.”
She’s impossible. And I like it. Way too much.
The realization hits like a jolt—sharp and unsettling. Or maybe it’s something worse. Doesn’t matter.Thisis exactly what’s going to get me in trouble. What Rook noticed at dinner and what I need to shut down.
“Your elbow’s in my liver,” I wheeze.
Carefully, I lift her by the arms and roll her off me. The second the weight’s gone, I feel it—this weird unmoored sensation, like she was an anchor I didn’t know I needed. And that right there? That’s the problem.
I roll to my side, push to my feet, and offer her a hand. She takes it. That’s a surprise. And it feels... good. Like maybe her guard’s finally down.
But with Cybil, I’m not betting on it. I need to tread carefully.
