Emily's palms were damp as she clutched her folder. The interview room smelled of coffee and too much polish, and she could hear her heart pounding louder than the ticking clock on the wall.
The interviewer finally looked up. "We'll forward your application for final review," he said in a voice so dry Emily wondered if he swallowed sand for breakfast.
Emily forced another smile, muttered thanks, and walked out into the marble-floored lobby. Her stomach dropped when she saw him. Detective Lee—Mr. Iceberg himself—strolling through the building with Ray at his side.
"Of course," she whispered to herself. "Out of the billions of companies in this world, fate throws me here."
Ray caught sight of her first and smirked. "Oh hey, boss, isn't that—"
"Don't," Lee cut him off sharply. His eyes barely lingered on Emily, but the faint twitch of annoyance said enough.
Emily, however, wasn't one to be ignored. She marched up to him. "You!" she snapped, pointing like she was accusing him of theft. "You left me to die outside a club! Do you know how traumatic that was?"
Heads turned in the lobby. Employees gawked, whispering behind their hands. Lee's jaw tightened as he leaned close, his voice icy. "If you enjoy making a scene, do it somewhere else. This is not your playground."
Emily blinked. "You're unbelievable. Do all billionaires come with an ego this oversized, or is that just your special talent?"
Ray bit back a laugh. "She's got guts, I'll give her that."
Before Lee could reply, his phone buzzed. His expression shifted instantly, the playful argument with Emily drowned by something darker. He glanced at Ray. "They took the bait."
Ray straightened. "Already?"
Lee's eyes flicked toward the glass elevator. "We move. Now."
Emily watched, confused, as the two disappeared. But then curiosity—it was always her curse—sparked. She followed, half-running in her heels, pretending she had every right to trail them.
---
Meanwhile, in the underground garage, Lee's trap was already in motion. One of Milton's executives had received a message—false intel Lee had planted—that a shipment connected to the string of murders was hidden nearby.
A shadowy figure approached the car they were watching. Ray whispered, "Looks like our rat just crawled out."
Lee's eyes narrowed. "Then let's see who he reports to."
From a corner, Emily peeked behind a pillar. She had no idea what she was watching, but her gut told her she had stumbled into something huge… again.
The underground garage was all shadows and echoes. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead mixed with the distant squeak of tires on concrete. Lee and Ray stood hidden behind a black SUV, their eyes locked on the executive sneaking toward a silver briefcase tucked near a support pillar.
Lee's whisper was sharp. "Wait until he makes the call. Then we'll know who's pulling the strings."
Ray nodded, pulling out a small recorder.
But before the executive could reach the briefcase—
"Psst… crazy guy!"
Lee froze. Slowly, painfully, he turned his head. And there she was—Emily—peeking out from behind a pillar like a nosy cat who thought she belonged everywhere.
Ray slapped a hand over his face. "Unbelievable."
Emily crept closer, whispering furiously. "What are you doing here? Actually, don't answer—I already know. You're spying again. Typical crazy guy behavior."
Lee grabbed her wrist, pulling her behind the SUV before the executive noticed. His face was inches from hers, his voice low and dangerous. "If you value your life, you'll stay silent."
Her breath hitched—not from fear exactly, but from how absurdly close and good-looking he was. She shook herself quickly. "Oh, don't give me the mysterious James Bond act. You're still the lunatic who left me outside a club!"
Ray cleared his throat, amused. "Boss, I think she's your new biggest fan."
"Shut up," Lee muttered.
Emily huffed and crossed her arms. But then her eyes darted toward the briefcase. Something about the crest stamped on its metal side caught her attention. She frowned, whispering: "Wait… I've seen that before."
Both Lee and Ray turned sharply. "Where?" Lee demanded.
Emily blinked, startled by his intensity. "Uh… at the café. My friend's cousin works at a warehouse on the outskirts of town. That symbol was on the crates they were unloading. He said it belonged to some shady supplier."
Lee's icy mask cracked just slightly—just enough to show surprise.
Ray grinned. "Well, well. Looks like 'crazy guy' just found his crazy girl partner."
Emily rolled her eyes. "Partner? Please. I just have good memory."
But Lee didn't let go of her wrist, his grip firm, grounding. For the first time, he looked at her not as a nuisance… but as someone who had just connected a missing piece in his brother's case.
The executive snapped the briefcase shut and walked away, oblivious to the storm brewing behind him.
Lee's voice was quiet, but there was a spark in it now. "You're not as useless as you look."
Emily bristled. "Excuse me? That's your way of saying thank you?"
And despite the danger surrounding them, despite the secrets and shadows—there it was. A spark. Small, sharp, and completely out of place. But undeniable.
The executive's phone buzzed. He froze mid-step, looking around the garage like a hunted animal. His eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows.
Ray cursed under his breath. "He's spooked."
"Because someone doesn't know how to whisper," Lee muttered, glaring at Emily.
Emily gasped. "Are you blaming me? I didn't—"
"Quiet."
Too late. The executive yanked open the briefcase, glanced inside, then slammed it shut and bolted for the stairwell.
Lee shoved Emily behind him. "Stay." Then he sprinted after the man, Ray right on his heels.
Emily frowned, hands on her hips. "Stay? What am I, a puppy? Ugh, crazy guy has some nerve—"
She looked around. The garage was suddenly too quiet, too eerie. A black car revved its engine across the lot. Men in dark coats stepped out, eyes locked on the briefcase still clutched in the executive's hands.
Emily's blood ran cold. Oh no. Nope. Not doing this again.
But when the first gunshot echoed, her instincts betrayed her. She ducked, screamed, then—without thinking—ran after Lee.
---
Lee's fists connected with one thug, spinning him into a pillar. Ray tackled another, cracking a joke even mid-fight. "Boss, this is officially above my pay grade!"
Emily stumbled into the chaos, dodging behind a car for cover. "Are you insane?! There are actual bullets flying!"
Lee shot her a look sharp enough to cut glass. "I told you to stay."
"You think I wanted to follow?!" she shot back. "Okay, maybe a little, but still!"
Before Lee could snap again, one of the thugs lunged at her. Emily froze—until Lee caught the man's arm mid-swing and twisted, dropping him in one brutal move. His body shielded hers, close enough for her to smell the faint trace of leather and smoke clinging to him.
Her heart thumped wildly. "I… I could've handled that."
Ray laughed out loud. "Sure, cupcake. With what? Your handbag?"
Emily threw her heel at him. "It's called self-defense fashion, thank you very much!"
Even Lee almost smirked. Almost.
---
The executive, meanwhile, scrambled into his car, slamming the door. Lee cursed and sprinted after him. Tires screeched as the vehicle shot out of the garage ramp.
Ray groaned. "Boss, we just lost our rat!"
Lee didn't answer. His gaze slid briefly to Emily—who, despite shaking, was still there, wide-eyed, refusing to run away.
Against his better judgment, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward his own car. "Get in. Now."
Emily blinked. "Wait—me? With you? After this?!"
"Unless you want to be target practice, yes," Lee snapped, shoving her into the passenger seat.
Ray dove into the back. The engine roared to life.
Emily clutched the seatbelt as Lee tore out of the garage, tires screaming. "Crazy guy," she muttered under her breath, "you're going to kill me before the gangsters do."
B
ut in that moment, as the city lights streaked past, she realized something terrifying: she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to get out of his car.