The room was filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint sound of ice clinking against the crystal glass Noah held loosely in his hand. The whiskey burned down his throat, but he barely felt it. His eyes, sharp and calculating, were fixed on the screen displaying the surveillance footage from the gala.
The image froze on Elena's face.
That smile. The one she wore so effortlessly.
Too flawless. Too practiced.
Noah's eyes narrowed as he traced the screen with his finger, stopping at the brief flash of hesitation in her eyes during their dance. It was there—a glimmer of something off. She wasn't just a party guest.
No. She was hiding something.
He leaned back in his leather chair, running a hand through his tousled hair.
"Who the hell are you, Elena Carter?" he muttered under his breath.
---
Meanwhile...
Elena sat at the edge of her hotel bed, her hands trembling slightly as she removed the sleek black heels.
Her breath came out uneven. She hadn't expected Noah Kingston to be this dangerous.
She reached for the small Bluetooth earpiece hidden inside her purse, tapping it twice.
A deep, gravelly voice came through the line.
"Report."
Her fingers curled into a fist. "I made contact," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly, still feeling the lingering heat of Noah's touch on her skin.
The man on the other end, Vincent Alvarez, the very man who wanted Noah dead, let out a cold chuckle.
"That's my girl. So… how close did you get?"
Elena's lips parted slightly, but she didn't answer. Instead, her eyes fell on the faint bruise forming on her wrist where Noah had gripped her during their dance.
Too close.
Vincent's voice hardened.
"Don't forget why you're there, Elena. This isn't a game."
She clenched her jaw. She knew that.
But as she stared at the red mark on her wrist, she also knew something else.
She was already in too deep.
---
Back at Noah's Estate
The next evening, Noah stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his gaze dark and stormy as he stared at the city below.
He was still trying to erase the feeling of Elena's body against his.
But her scent, faintly floral and maddeningly sweet, clung to him.
His phone buzzed.
"Boss, we have a problem."
Logan, his right-hand man, walked in, tossing a file onto the marble desk. Noah's eyes flicked to the folder, but he didn't touch it.
"What is it?" he asked coldly.
Logan's expression darkened.
"Elena Carter."
The name alone made Noah's fingers twitch.
"Go on," he said, voice low and dangerous.
Logan opened the file, spreading out pictures and documents.
"She's not who she says she is."
Noah's eyes narrowed as he scanned the contents. A forged identity. Fake employment history. No traceable background before two years ago.
She was a ghost.
"Who sent her?" Noah asked, his voice now laced with venom.
Logan's lips pressed into a thin line.
"We're still digging, but… she's not clean."
For a brief moment, something flickered in Noah's eyes—a flash of anger, maybe disappointment.
But then it was gone, replaced by a chilling, emotionless calm.
"Don't touch her."
Logan's brows knit together in confusion.
"Boss?"
Noah's lips curled into a cruel smirk.
"I want to know how long she plans to play this game."
---
Later That Night…
Elena stood by the balcony of her hotel suite, the cool night air brushing against her skin. She gripped the edge of the railing, breathing in the city lights.
Her phone buzzed. A text.
Vincent: "Tomorrow. 10 p.m. The warehouse. Don't be late."
Her stomach twisted, but before she could respond, she heard it—the faintest creak behind her.
She spun around sharply, her breath catching in her throat.
Noah.
He stood just inside her suite, leaning casually against the doorframe. A devilishly lazy smirk tugged at his lips, but his eyes were anything but casual. They were dark. Possessive. Piercing.
Elena's heart slammed against her ribs.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.
Noah's gaze swept over her.
She was still in her evening dress—barefoot, vulnerable, and painfully alluring.
He stepped closer, the room suddenly feeling too small.
"You left in a hurry last night," he said smoothly, his voice low, almost mocking. "I didn't get to say goodbye."
Her fingers curled into the railing behind her.
"That doesn't explain why you're in my room."
Noah's eyes darkened, the playful glimmer vanishing. He closed the distance between them in two strides, his hand brushing along the side of her face.
"I don't need an explanation, Elena."
Her breath hitched.
His thumb lightly traced her lower lip, and for a fleeting second, she forgot why she was there.
Forgot that she was lying.
"I should go," she whispered.
But Noah's hand tightened gently around her jaw, holding her in place.
His lips brushed against her ear, his breath warm against her skin.
"You're not going anywhere."
Elena's pulse spiked.
Her heart thudded painfully against her chest, and for the first time, she wasn't sure if it was from fear or something else entirely.
Because when Noah's lips finally found hers, she didn't pull away.
She didn't fight him.
Instead, she kissed him back, recklessly and desperately—
Even though she knew he was the very man she was sent to destroy.
---
As Noah deepened the kiss, his hand slipped into the pocket of her dress, subtly pulling out the tiny listening device she had concealed earlier.
Without breaking the kiss, he pocketed it smoothly—his lips still moving against hers with a hunger that burned.
But behind the darkness of his eyes, there was nothing but icy calculation.
She thought she was fooling him.
But he was already playing her.
See you in next chapter...