Chapter 194 — Marcus POV
"The Twin and the Trap"
It had been two weeks.
Fourteen days since he saw her again—Alina Lantel—sitting in that uptown restaurant like fate had set the scene just to rattle his world.
But she hadn't looked rattled.
She hadn't looked shocked.
She had looked pleased.
It wasn't a smile. Not exactly. But he saw it, that flicker in her eyes when she spotted him. That tiny curl of her lips that said, "Checkmate."
And that was the moment Marcus Vex knew—he was being played.
The question was: how deep?
He hadn't wasted time. That same night, he called in his most trusted man, Rex, and demanded a full background check on the woman who had vanished from his couch without so much as a goodbye—and then reappeared two weeks later like a phantom in lipstick.
And what had Rex delivered?
She wasn't just some pretty face. She had structure, training, intelligence. Too much to be random.
Her name was real. Alina Lantel. Born in Seattle. No criminal record. No flags. Just another ambitious 21-year-old with a sharp mind and sharper looks.
But she wasn't alone.
She had a twin.
Aiden Lantel.
Same birthdate. Same address on government records. Same school history, though their paths diverged in recent years. Aiden studied business. Alina? Nothing consistent. A few odd jobs here and there. Theatre. Bartending. Modeling.
Nothing that explained her.
Rex had pulled surveillance photos. Camera feeds from the restaurant. She had been laughing when Marcus entered, fork twirling in hand, her green eyes dancing with amusement as she leaned across the table toward her twin. The resemblance was clear now that Marcus knew. Their expressions mirrored each other's, like watching left and right versions of the same soul.
But Aiden hadn't mattered.
It was her.
He couldn't stop thinking about her.
And not in the way that made him weak.
In the way that made him dangerous.
Because Marcus didn't like feeling like the prey.
He leaned forward now in his sleek black leather office chair, flicking through the photos again on the tablet Rex left him. Every frame showed the same thing: Alina cool, confident, too damn composed for a woman who'd supposedly run off from his place two weeks earlier.
She hadn't run.
She'd retreated.
Tactically.
Calculatedly.
A grin pulled at the corner of Marcus's mouth, slow and dangerous.
So she wanted to play.
Fine.
But he made the rules.
Tossing the tablet onto the desk, he rose from his seat and walked toward the glass wall that overlooked the club below. It was loud tonight, chaotic. But his office, ten floors up, was silent—just the way he liked it.
He thought back to that night two weeks ago.
How she'd looked across the room when their eyes locked.
No panic. No clumsy stammering or dropped silverware.
Just smooth composure and the kind of calm that took years to fake.
She wanted him to see her.
She had counted on it.
And he hadn't disappointed.
The next day, Marcus had surveillance planted near her known locations. She didn't suspect it, or if she did, she didn't care. She went about her routines with ease. Never anything suspicious—nothing to prove she was a threat.
But that made her more dangerous.
He wasn't stupid.
Men like Marcus didn't survive long by trusting pretty women with too much silence and not enough history. He had enemies. Old ones. Ruthless ones. Ones who would send a distraction to his doorstep just to unravel him from within.
Was she a pawn?
A knight?
Or the queen in someone else's game?
He poured himself a drink—straight scotch, no ice—and stared into it.
Her face lingered behind his eyes, sharp and smug.
Her last words still rang in his mind, even if she'd never said them aloud: "You'll see me again."
She was confident.
She wanted him to chase her.
But why?
Was it seduction?
Or strategy?
Either way, Marcus Vex didn't chase. He hunted.
And she'd just made herself the most interesting target in his world.
He pulled out his phone and dialed Rex again.
"Boss," Rex answered after a single ring.
"Continue surveillance. Don't get too close," Marcus instructed. "But keep eyes on her. I want updates every night. Especially who she talks to. Who she meets."
"And if she makes contact with someone shady?"
Marcus's voice dropped to a murmur. "Then we pull her in."
"For questioning?"
"No," he said, draining the rest of his drink. "For truth."
He ended the call.
Then stared out the window again.
He didn't know yet what game Alina was playing, but he was starting to believe she wasn't the pawn at all.
She was the queen.
Moving diagonally. Always one step ahead. And if she was here to knock him down?
She was going to need a hell of a bigger army.
Because Marcus Vex wasn't planning on losing.
And Alina Lantel had just stepped onto the wrong board.