House of Secrets

Ava’s fingers curled around the cool marble counter as Damian’s words settled in.

“You help me burn Raymond Holloway to the ground.”

She should have hesitated. Should have demanded more details. But instead, a strange sense of resignation settled over her. Maybe it was her exhaustion, maybe it was the sheer impossibility of the situation—or maybe it was the thrill.

Because Holloway had already tried to bury her.

She had a chance to bury him first.

She let out a slow, sharp breath, forcing her pulse to steady. “You’re asking me to risk my life.”

Damian leaned against the bar, watching her over the rim of his whiskey glass. “You were already doing that the second you stepped into that casino.”

Ava didn’t look away. “What exactly do you expect from me?”

Damian smirked. “Now you’re thinking like a survivor.” He set his glass down, pushing off the counter with a measured grace. “I want every detail you overheard from Holloway’s meeting. Names, numbers, anything that could be useful. And in return, I’ll make sure you live long enough to see him fall.”

The way he said it—so casually, as if orchestrating a man’s downfall was just another business deal—made Ava’s stomach tighten.

She was no fool. Damian Moretti wasn’t some benevolent protector. He had his own agenda, and she was now a part of it.

Still, if Holloway was making moves that even Moretti wanted to shut down, that meant one thing: whatever she had stumbled into was far bigger than she thought.

Ava folded her arms. “If I do this, I want something in return.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “You’re not exactly in a position to negotiate, sweetheart.”

“You want me to be your asset? Fine. But I need a guarantee. Once this is over, I walk away clean.”

Damian studied her for a long moment. Then, to her surprise, he chuckled. “I admire your nerve, Sinclair.” His expression darkened, amusement giving way to something more dangerous. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking you can dictate the rules of this game.”

Ava forced herself to hold his gaze. “I’m not stupid, Moretti. If I do this, I need to know I won’t be another loose end for you to tie up later.”

Damian’s smirk was slow, predatory. He stepped closer, invading her space until she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. “Let me make one thing clear, Ava.” His voice dropped, lethal and quiet. “I don’t waste valuable assets. And right now? You’re very valuable.”

A chill slid down her spine.

It wasn’t a promise of safety. It was a warning.

Damian turned away before she could respond. “Get some rest. We start tomorrow.”

Ava watched as he disappeared down a hallway, leaving her alone in the vast penthouse.

—

Sleep didn’t come easy.

She lay awake on the impossibly soft bed, staring at the ceiling, mind racing.

Damian Moretti was dangerous. That much was obvious. But Holloway? He was a monster hiding behind the mask of respectability. And if she had to choose between the devil she knew and the one hunting her in the dark—

She’d take her chances with Moretti.

When dawn broke, she was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, her thoughts a tangled mess.

A knock at the door startled her.

“Up and at it, Sinclair,” Damian called. “Time to get to work.”

She groaned, running a hand through her hair before pulling herself together. Whatever today brought, she had no choice but to face it head-on.

—

The kitchen smelled like freshly brewed coffee when Ava stepped inside.

Damian sat at the breakfast bar, scrolling through his phone, already dressed in dark slacks and a crisp white shirt. He barely glanced up as he pushed a steaming cup toward her. “Drink. You’re going to need it.”

Ava hesitated, then took the coffee. “So what’s the plan?”

Damian leaned back, studying her. “You tell me, Sinclair. You’re the one who had a front-row seat to Holloway’s dirty secrets.”

She inhaled slowly, sifting through the memories. “They were talking about a shipment. Something big coming in at the docks next week. I don’t know what, but whatever it is, Holloway’s investing serious money into it.”

Damian’s expression sharpened. “Did they mention a location?”

Ava closed her eyes, replaying the conversation in her head. “Pier 17. Midnight.”

Damian’s jaw tightened.

“You recognize it, don’t you?” Ava pressed.

“Holloway’s got a few smuggling routes through the city,” Damian admitted. “But if he’s moving something through Pier 17, he’s either gotten reckless… or desperate.”

Ava frowned. “Why would he be desperate?”

Damian’s gaze turned calculating. “Because that pier belongs to me.”

Her blood ran cold.

If Holloway was using Moretti’s territory, then this wasn’t just about business. It was war.

Before she could react, Damian was already grabbing his phone, dialing a number.

“Yeah,” he said when the call connected. “Get eyes on Pier 17. Now.”

Ava’s stomach twisted. She had thought she was just dealing with Holloway’s corruption.

But she had just stepped into the middle of a full-blown power struggle.

—

The drive to Moretti’s private office was silent. Damian’s mood had darkened, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he navigated the streets of Vegas with calculated precision.

Ava stole a glance at him. There was something different about him now. More lethal.

Finally, she broke the silence. “This isn’t just business to you, is it?”

Damian exhaled through his nose, a humorless chuckle escaping. “You’re catching on, Sinclair.”

Ava crossed her arms. “Then tell me what I’m really involved in.”

Damian shot her a sidelong glance. “You’re involved because you got in Holloway’s way. But if you want to know the truth?” He leaned back against the seat, his expression unreadable. “Holloway’s not just running dirty deals—he’s trying to carve out a piece of my city. And I don’t let anyone take what’s mine.”

Ava swallowed hard.

She had thought she was just a journalist uncovering corruption.

Now, she was tangled in a battle between two men who played by their own rules.

And she had just become part of the collateral.

—

Damian’s office was perched on the top floor of a high-rise overlooking the Strip. The moment they stepped inside, Ava felt the weight of something unspoken lingering in the air.

A man was already waiting inside. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features and an aura of quiet menace.

Ava recognized him immediately.

Leo DeLuca. Damian’s right-hand man.

“Pier 17’s been active all week,” Leo said without preamble. “Holloway’s bringing in something big. But here’s the kicker—he’s got a new partner.”

Damian’s expression didn’t change. “Who?”

Leo hesitated, then slid a folder across the desk.

Damian opened it. His jaw clenched.

Ava peered over his shoulder. A photo stared back at her.

A man in a tailored suit, standing next to Holloway.

Her stomach dropped.

Because she knew that man.

Richard Calloway.

A senator.

And her former boss.

Ava’s pulse roared in her ears.

This wasn’t just about Holloway anymore.

This was bigger. Darker. More dangerous than she had ever imagined.

And she had just put herself in the middle of it.