Reina should have expected him.
Men like Damian Stone didn't believe in coincidence, and they didn't waste time.
Still, when she opened her office door the next morning and found him standing there—impeccably dressed, leaning against her desk like he owned the building—her stomach dropped before she could school her face into neutrality.
"How did you get in here?" she asked, shutting the door behind her.
"I own the building," he replied smoothly. "Well, technically my company does. You rent from us."
Her eyes narrowed. "I never saw your name on the lease."
"Shell companies are useful." He straightened, brushing imaginary lint from his cuff. "We need to talk."
"We don't." She moved past him toward her chair, dropping her bag on the desk with a satisfying thud. "And for the record, breaking into someone's office is illegal."
"I didn't break in. Your secretary let me in."
"I don't have a secretary."
His lips curved faintly, as if amused by her irritation. "Then you might want to talk to the stranger outside your door. She's very polite."
Reina bit back a curse. She'd have to check the hallway later. "Make your point, Mr. Stone. I have work to do."
He studied her for a long moment, his gaze sharp enough to strip paint. "You're good at watching people. I saw it at the gala, and again at the auction. You don't just look—you see."
Her fingers drummed against the desk. "So?"
"So I want you to work for me."
The laugh escaped before she could stop it. "You want to hire me? For what? Standing silently in the corner of your overpriced events?"
"For something more important. I need someone I can trust to investigate a matter quietly."
The irony nearly made her choke. "Trust? You don't even know me."
His eyes didn't waver. "I know enough."
She leaned back, folding her arms. "Let me guess—you've run a background check."
"Of course."
"And?"
"And I found almost nothing." His voice was flat, but his gaze was probing, hungry. "No school records before five years ago. No medical history except for a hospital stay three years back. No family. No one who knows you well enough to vouch for your past. That doesn't happen by accident."
Reina kept her face still, though her pulse thudded hard in her ears. "Maybe I value my privacy."
"Or maybe," he said softly, "you're hiding."
Her throat tightened, but she forced a smile. "Sounds like I'm exactly the kind of person you shouldn't trust."
He didn't smile back. "On the contrary, Miss Blake. People with nothing to lose are often the most loyal—if they choose to be."
She hated the way his words slid under her skin, hated the part of her that wanted to know more about this "matter" he wanted investigated.
"And if I say no?" she asked.
Damian shrugged, but it was the calculated kind of shrug—meant to look casual while hiding the tension in his shoulders. "Then I'll find another investigator. But I'll still find out who you are."
The threat was unspoken, but it hung between them like smoke.
---
She should have thrown him out. She should have told him she was already on a job—following him, no less—and that she didn't take assignments from men who thought intimidation was a negotiation tactic.
But then Ezra's face flashed in her mind. Rent was due next week. Groceries didn't pay for themselves.
And maybe… just maybe… working for Damian Stone would put her closer to the truth.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. "What's the job?"
A flicker of something passed through his eyes—satisfaction, maybe. "I'll tell you after you sign an NDA."
"That's not how I work."
"It's how I work."
They stared at each other for several long seconds, neither blinking.
Finally, she reached for the pen in her drawer. "Fine. But this doesn't make us friends."
"Agreed," he said, his mouth curving faintly. "For now."
---
The "job" turned out to be shadowing one of his senior executives, a man suspected of leaking confidential merger details to a rival company.
It was exactly the kind of work Reina excelled at. Two days in, she'd already gathered enough evidence to confirm the leak—and enough photographs to ruin the man's career.
She delivered the file to Damian in his glass-walled corner office, setting it on his desk without sitting down.
He flipped through the photos, his jaw tightening with each page. "Efficient."
"I'm not paid to waste time," she said.
His gaze lifted, pinning her in place. "I like that about you."
She ignored the way her stomach reacted. "If that's all, I'll—"
"Stay."
It wasn't a request.
She hesitated, then lowered herself into the chair opposite him.
Damian closed the file and set it aside. "Tell me something, Reina. Do you always work for strangers who can't prove they're trustworthy?"
"Do you always hire people you can't trust?" she countered.
His mouth curved, but his eyes remained unreadable. "Touché."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable exactly—but it was charged, the kind of silence where every unspoken word felt like it could tip the balance between them.
Finally, he said, "I have another job for you."
"Double my rate."
His brows rose slightly, but he didn't argue. "Done."
She knew then that whatever this was, it wasn't just about the work. Damian Stone didn't throw money around without purpose.
And deep down, she suspected that she was the real assignment.
---
That evening, she stopped at Ezra's daycare on the way home. He came running toward her with his usual bright grin, throwing his small arms around her neck.
She kissed his hair, breathing in the scent of crayons and cookies. "Good day?"
"Uh-huh. I made a castle."
She smiled, holding him close. But as she glanced over his shoulder, she froze.
Across the street, leaning against a sleek black car, was Damian Stone.
He was watching them.
Not like a man casually noticing a child—but like a man who had just seen something that hit him harder than he was
ready for.
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
Because in that moment, she realized—he wasn't just looking at her.
He was looking at Ezra.