Burn

Katya

He hadn't called, he hadn't texted.

And when I had Kyrian contact the technician who had detected the wiretap, he swept through the house for hours and returned empty-handed with sweat pouring down his face,

"No, ma'am, it's all clean."

With my hands folded over my chest, I blinked rapidly, "are you sure you checked it properly?"

He massaged the back of his neck, his eyes looking like he would collapse that second.

Then he stared into my eyes with dilated pupils, his voice as exhausted as he looked,

"yes, ma'am. Even under the bed. I used the equipment that detects the most camouflaged, but nothing."

When he left, muttering under his breath about paranoid rich people, Kyrian stepped out from behind the pillar and came to a halt in front of me,

"I can increase the security if you feel watched, ma'am, you have been...a bit restless."

Yeah, Kyrian was generous.

A bit?

I spent my free time like a zombie, looking out of the window and watching the penthouse next to me, waiting fo