I nodded, my fingers still pressing against Ethan’s temples. His breathing had slowed, the tense lines around his mouth softening. I could feel the heat of his skin against my fingertips, the steady rhythm of his pulse just beneath the surface. The dim lighting of my apartment cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline.
“Find anything?” I asked, breaking the silence between us.
Ethan’s green eyes locked with mine. “I’ve been investigating Warren Mitchell too,” he said, his voice low and controlled now. “We discovered he was responsible for poisoning my father.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How did you suddenly trace it back to him?”
Ethan reached up, gently taking my wrist and pulling my hand away from his face. Instead of releasing it, he held it between his own, his thumb absently tracing circles on my palm. The unexpected intimacy of the gesture caught me off guard, but I didn’t pull away.
“You gave me the clues, Jade.” His gaze was intense, searching. “When you appeared at that auction, I knew something was wrong. Your interest in Mitchell seemed… personal.”
I remained silent, processing his words. Ethan continued, his grip on my hand tightening slightly.
“It made me look closer at Warren Mitchell.” He paused. “Before I could think too much about it, my father’s condition deteriorated. Then I noticed you creating poison in thatb–and I realized you were nning something big. The target had to be dangerous, maybe even had backup. You were making sure there’d be no mistakes, right?”
I watched him carefully, impressed despite myself at his powers of observation. For someone born into privilege, he had remarkably sharp instincts.
“So after your father recovered…” I prompted, curious about how much he’d managed to piece together.
I immediately started digging into Warren’s background.” Ethan nodded. “And I found inconsistencies. His
documented history only went back about fifteen years–just around the time he emerged in New York’s social scene, Before that? Nothing substantial.”
Ethan shifted, still holding my hand. “I also discovered that my father met with Warren at a charity g shortly before he was poisoned. For the past year, I’ve quietly investigated everyone who came into contact with my father. Warren and my father were barely acquaintances–just nodding terms. When my father fell ill, Warren wasn’t even on my radar,”
His jaw tightened, a muscle flexing beneath the skin. “Time was running out. I hadn’t confirmed Warren’s true identity yet<b>, </b>but when I heard he’d be on that yacht tonight…” Ethan’s eyes met mine. “I knew you’d make your
move.”
I pulled up a video on my phone. The surveince footage showed Warren and Danny discussing ns to poison
Ethan and recruit the Shadow Organization’s Princeton branch to expand his power base.
(91)
Ethan’s face hardened as he watched, his expression darkening with each word. “Shadow Organization?” he repeated, a question in his voice.
I nodded once, watching his reaction carefully.
“What happened on that yacht?” he asked, his expression unreadable. “Was there… resistance?”
I almostughed. “Just one person who could actually put up a fight,” I said with a dismissive shrug.
Ethan studied me for a moment, his eyes tracking across my face as if searching for something. “You moved quickly. Was it because you didn’t want to miss the opportunity to get him, or were you worried they’de after me next?”
“You’ve helped me more than once,” I said neutrally. “Consider tonight my repayment. I don’t like being in debt.”
Ethan’s expression softened slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half–smile. “Next time something like thises up, tell me. Warren was ourmon enemy–you didn’t have to handle it alone. I can help.”
I nodded vaguely, though we both knew I had no intention of involving him in my future ns against the Organization.
“Will you do that thing with my temples again?” he asked suddenly, his voice quieter. “It really does help.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised by the request, but nodded. “Lie down first.”
As his eyes closed under my touch, I allowed myself a small smile. Powerful billionaire Ethan Haxton, reduced to putty by a simple pressure point technique. It was almost endearing.
Author’s POV:
Connor eyed Ethan with barely concealed amusement as he approached the car waiting outside Jade’s apartment building. Connor leaned against the sleek ck vehicle, his smirk visible even in the dim street lighting.
“Did you fall in the bathroom up there, boss?” He gestured to Ethan’s temples, which were flushed red. “Your hair is damp too. Everything okay?”
Ethan shot him a withering re, straightening his slightly rumpled suit jacket.
Connor cleared his throat, wisely changing the subject. “So Warren Mitchell was her target all along.” His voice dropped to a thoughtful murmur. “Must have been some serious bad blood there. I mean, that amount of explosives…” He whistled low. “When we cross Mr. Haxton, we get fired. Cross Miss Morgan, and you get blown to kingdome.”
:
He paused, a look of realization crossing his face. “Wait, remember that mercenary camp in Venezu? The one belonging ton Matthews that mysteriously exploded? Was that-”
“You’re really dumb, Connor,” Ethan cut him off, sliding into the car’s back seat. The leather was cool against his back, a stark contrast to the warmth of Jade’s apartment.
Connor’s eyes widened as he started the engine. “You knew. You knew from the beginning it was her.”
Ethan didn’t respond, pulling out his phone instead. He typed a quick message to Jade:
<i>When </i>you jumped <i>from </i><i>that </i><i>yacht</i><i>, </i><i>were </i><i>you </i><i>absolutely </i><i>certain </i><i>I’d </i><i>catch </i><i>you</i><i>? </i>
Connor was still talking as they pulled away from the curb. “What do you need me to do about tonight?”
91
“Help the police quietly tie up loose ends,” Ethan instructed, watching the city lights blur past the window. “And see that Warren Mitchell’s assets get appropriately reallocated. The river conservation fund could use a boost.
Whatever’s left goes to the government.”
Ethan’s phone buzzed with Jade’s reply:
<i>You </i><i>seem </i><i>physically </i><i>capable</i><i>. </i><i>I </i><i>trusted </i><i>you </i><i>wouldn’t </i><i>let </i><i>me </i><i>fall</i>.
As she hit send, she rolled her eyes. What she didn’t add was: <i>If </i><i>you </i><i>couldn’t </i><i>catch </i><i>me</i><i>, </i><i>you’d be </i>too <i>pathetic</i>.
On a private ind thousands of miles away, SPECTER stared at the secure message on his tablet. The sleek device contrasted with the antique wooden desk where he sat, surrounded by books and artifacts that spoke of old wealth and power.
Warren Mitchell, Umbra, and Silhouette–all dead. The Princeton branch of the Shadow Organization had lost its leadership in a single night.
“Explosion?” he muttered incredulously, his eyes narrowed as he frowned. “That’s no coincidence.”
He stood, pacing across the oriental rug that covered the hardwood floor.
He tapped a series ofmands into the tablet, his fingers moving with practiced efficiency. The screen illuminated his face in the dimly lit room, casting harsh shadows across his scary features.
“Find out what really happened,” he ordered to the operative on the other end of the secure line. “Someone is targeting us specifically. I want to know who.”