CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kira sat stirring her drink absentmindedly, her eyes widening with every bit of tea I spilled. I'd left out the details about going undercover as a bodyguard, replacing it with a vague story about why he was at my house. I'd also kept Reid's name out of it, but the look on her face told me she still found the gist as interesting as I'd expected.

“Okay, backup, sis. You've been secretly training with some guy in the janitor's closet for what, like two, three days? And now he shows up at your place, kisses you, and says he's ready to take things slow as long as you're interested?”

I sipped my drink. “Mhmm. It seems unreal, which is why I had to spill. I don't know if I should trust him and go with the flow or just…” I shrugged.

“Are you kidding me? If a hot guy who's super nice tracked me down just to ask me out, I'd totally say yes. I mean, it's giving old-school love, and I'm here for it, girl.”

I laughed. Kira had a point. What Reid did was kind of understandable,  given that I lied. Yet he seemed more concerned about me and had no problems confessing his feelings. Now that I think about it, it was the most romantic thing that had happened to me since I moved to seattle.

“I can totally see it in your eyes that you're into this guy. Ugh, I so want to know his name or if it's someone I know,” she said, pausing before a smirk crept onto her face. “Is it…Marcus?”

I jerked my head back, taken aback. “No, what the fuck, Kira.”

“What?” She shrugged. “He's hot and nice, and I see you guys talking to each other a lot. There's no rule about not dating your instructor, right?”

“I don't know, but jeez, he's like a brother to me. I doubt I could ever see him that way.”

“Sheesh, don't tell that to Marcus,” she muttered.

“What? Why? I'm pretty sure he feels the same way,”

“That's what you think.” 

I was about to press her further when she quickly shifted back to the original topic. “So, about this mysterious guy—when do I get to meet him?”

I returned my gaze to my food, trying to hide the flush creeping into my cheeks at the thought of Reid.

“Oh, I can totally see you blushing! You're probably already picturing him getting down on one knee and—”

I didn't catch the rest. The word knee triggered a vivid image—Reid kneeling in front of me, his hands outstretched like he was reaching for something. Or maybe for me. It wasn't just a random thought; it felt eerily familiar, like I was reliving a moment that had actually happ—

“Oh my God. He lied to me!” I blurted, slamming my hands onto the table, forgetting we were in public.

Kira jumped, startled. She glanced around before turning back to me. 

“What're you talking about?”

I opened my mouth to tell her but stopped, realizing she didn't know anything about my undercover job. Forcing a smile, I shook my head. “It's nothing serious. Just something we were playfully arguing about that popped into my head.” I waved it off casually.

She gave me a skeptical look. “Hmm,”

I grabbed a French fry with my fork and stuffed it into my mouth—then another, barely giving myself time to chew.

“Mmm, this was nice. I think I'm done. Oh, look at the time—I’ve got work to do,” I said, words tumbling out in between bites as I grabbed my jacket and phone. “We should do this again. I’ll call you when I get home. Love you!”

As I got up to rush out, she called after me. 

“Eugene, you know I'm not buying any of this, right? When you're ready to tell me the whole story, you know where to find me.” 

I shot her an apologetic look through the glass as I walked past our table.

“And don't worry, I don't mind paying—you're welcome!” She yelled, her voice laced with humour as I crossed the street, heading for the one place I knew I'd find answers.

*****

I'd spent about half an hour rifling through my childhood box—albums and pictures that stirred painful memories—but I hadn't found what I was looking for.

The ring I'd found in my jacket rested on my bed, gleaming under the faint light. I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. I was certain I'd seen it before. Somewhere among these pictures, there had to be an image of it on someone's hand. I just needed to keep searching.

My plan was simple, though a little desperate. First, I had to confirm the ring's connection to my dad. Then, if the face of the person wearing it was still intact in the photograph, I could try to track them down and see if they also have a connection to Reid. Somehow, this all felt tied to him. His sudden confession made me think he might know something about my past than he let on.

Exhaustion weighed on me, and I collapsed onto my bed. My head felt clouded with too many thoughts and endless ‘what ifs.’ Maybe that's why I couldn't find the picture. I needed sleep. Tomorrow would be busy, but finding the photograph had to be at the top of my list.

I bent down to gather the pictures scattered at the foot of my bed. A yawn escaped my lips, and I lay flat on my back, taking a moment to catch my breath. I tried to push away unwanted thoughts of Reid being involved in what happened to my family. Instead, I let myself dream about what it might be like to date him.

A smile crept across my face as I pictured him surprising me with breakfast in bed. The warmth of those thoughts lulled me closer to sleep, but just as I closed my eyes, a loud thud jolted me awake.

It sounded like someone had run into my door. 

I jumped up, my heart racing as I crept toward the door.

“Who's there?” I called out, but silence greeted me.

I glanced around the room. There wasn't much I could use as a weapon—nothing deadlier than my hands. I wished, not for the first time, that my door had a peephole. 

Pressing my back against the wall beside the door, I grabbed the handle and yanked it open, quickly flattening myself out of view.

I waited, tense and unmoving. No one came in. Slowly, I peeked out into the hallway. It was empty, except for a white envelope lying on the ground.

I glanced both ways down the corridor, making sure no one was lurking nearby, then bent down to pick it up. My fingers trembled as I opened the envelope, and an image slid out—a photograph. The exact one I'd been searching for.

My breath caught as I picked up the photo. There it was—the ring, just as I'd thought, wrapped around the middle finger of what looked like a man's hand. His other hand rested on my dad's shoulder, my dad smiling warmly in the image. The man's face was torn away, leaving only a jagged edge where it should have been.

I traced my fingers along the tear, willing it to spark a memory, but nothing came. Flipping the picture over, I found a short message scrawled across the back:

You want answers? Earn them. Be at the mansion by 6 a.m to resume your duties. Don't be late.

Anger surged through me. My fists tightened, crumpling the photograph. The person behind this wanted to play games—but I wasn't in the mood for games.