Page 32 of The Hunter's Empire

"I rarely enjoy feeling defenseless." I reply evenly. "Especially around men with your ‘alleged’ reputation."

Domenico’s gaze lingers for another second before he stands. The movement is unhurried.

I stay perfectly still as he walks toward me, though every instinct sharpens in response to his proximity. He stops directly in frontof me, close enough that I can feel heat radiating from his skin after training.

Then, without asking permission, he crouches slightly.

My breath catches before I can stop it.

His fingers slide against the holster strapped beneath my thigh, adjusting the leather. The touch itself is almost professional, but there is nothing professional about the way his knuckles brush slowly against the inside of my leg.

"This setup favors comfort over access." He says quietly.

I keep my expression neutral. "I wasn't aware I'd hired you as a weapons consultant."

"You didn't." His fingers tighten briefly against the strap before loosening again. "But if someone reaches for you in close quarters, you'll lose the angle."

His voice drops lower. "In our world, angles get people killed."

He shifts the holster higher against my thigh, the movement deliberate enough to make my pulse stumble despite myself.

"Here." He says softly. "Tighter. Easier to reach. Less hesitation."

I am suddenly far too aware of everything. The fact that his face is dangerously close to my body while he remains completely calm about it.

My fingers curl against the edge of the bench. "I do not remember asking you to touch me."

A slow smile appears on his face, though he does not look up immediately.

Domenico finally straightens to his full height, towering over me for a second before stepping back just enough to restore the illusion of space between us.

"I would never insult you by assuming your reactions are accidental."

The tension between us thickens dangerously. So I redirect it.

"The Keegans." I say coolly. "You claimed they are worse than people realize."

The shift in conversation is immediate.

Domenico grabs a black t-shirt from nearby and pulls it over his head as he walks toward the doorway, gesturing for me to follow.

"They’re protected." He says as we move through another corridor. "Politicians. Police. Shipping authorities. Entire governments profit from pretending not to see what they are."

His tone has changed now. Sharper. More serious.

"The people who tried exposing them disappeared quietly." He glances back at me briefly. "This isn’t corporate warfare, Zora. It’s stepping into a nest of vipers and hoping they bite someone else first."

He leads me into another room. This one feels colder than the rest of the estate.

Walls lined with monitors. Surveillance feeds. Financial records projected across dark screens. Maps covered in routes and coded markings. Intercepted calls. Offshore accounts. Security footage.

I stop walking for a second as realization settles in. "You were already investigating them."

"I investigate everyone worth worrying about."

His answer is casual, but the amount of information in front of me is anything but.

I move closer to one of the screens, scanning shipping routes and transaction logs. "This level of surveillance takes months."