?Chapter 1597:


    Barry, on the other hand, was on edge the entire ride back, his nerves strung tight like a bowstring. The notion of assassins and terroristsunching a coordinated attack gnawed at him.


    Harlee, utterly unfazed, cast him a nceced with mild impatience.


    “They’re all dead. What exactly are you panicking about?”


    “What?” Barry’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief.


    “Are you telling me those assassins—and the terrorists—are gone? Just like that?”


    Too disinterested to waste words, Harlee simply pulled up a selectively edited screenshot of Judson’s report and forwarded it to Barry via WhatsApp.


    “See for yourself. Now let me rest.”


    Without another word, she stepped out of the opulent suite and made her way to her own room.


    The moment her hand grasped the doorknob, her keen senses picked up on a presence near the floor-to-ceiling window. A silhouette—tall, still, almost merging with the shadows. She paused, narrowing her eyes briefly at the figure, and then proceeded inside, her movements fluid and unbothered.


    “When did you figure it out?” She reclined onto the sofa, her posturenguid, her exquisite features betraying an air of amusement.


    Rhys turned slowly, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as his gaze flickered toward her. His voice, deep and maic, carried an unshakable certainty.


    “The moment you took on the task.”


    Lατ??τ ?нαρτ?rs ιn g??l??ov?l??.??om


    There was no point in deception. Even if she hadn’t uncovered everything yet, it was only a matter of time before the pieces fell into ce. He had no intention of ying hide and seek.


    “That was quite early.”


    Harlee crossed her legs, her demeanor cool as ever. She arched a brow, extending a delicate hand, motioning him forward with a single beckoning gesture.


    Rhys moved instantly, crouching before her without hesitation.


    With azy sort of curiosity, Harlee traced slow, deliberate circles over his chest with the tip of her finger, her lips curving into a smirk.


    “So… was it you who took care of those North Ind assassins?”


    “Yes.”


    Rhys’ gaze didn’t waver.


    “I didn’t want you to dirty your hands with such crude work, so I took care of it for you.”


    His voice dropped to a husky whisper, his expression unreadable.


    “Are you angry? Should I make it up to you? With my body, perhaps?”


    Harlee studied him for a prolonged moment before sitting up, tilting her head as if assessing a fine piece of art. She clicked her tongue, amusement dancing in her eyes.


    “Well, you’re not bad-looking. I’ll allow it.”


    With that, she rose gracefully and strolled toward the bathroom.


    Just as she was about to shut the door, Rhys slipped inside with seamless agility, catching her wrist. He pulled her into his embrace, his hands settling against the curve of her lower back.


    Harlee made no move to resist.


    Rhys’ dark eyes gleamed as a knowing smirk yed on his lips.


    “I happen to be quite skilled at assisting in the bath. Perhaps that can be part of mypensation?”


    Before she could respond, he lifted her effortlessly and carried her under the cascading water, his fingers deftly unfastening the barriers between them. The steam curled around their entwined forms, thick with heat and something far more dangerous.


    Later that night, Harlee—now wrapped in thefort of her sheets—unceremoniously kicked Rhys off the bed as he attempted another round of intimacy. A yawn slipped past her lips as she murmured drowsily, “I want to sleep.”


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