Chapter 2 2

Kane set the tray down on the bedside table. He moved slowly, telegraphing every motion, like Aria was a startled animal he didn't want to spook.

"Coffee," he said. "Soy milk. Two sugars."

Aria looked at the mug. Then she looked at his hands.

She had never noticed his hands before. Not really. She saw the ring she put there, but she never saw the skin. There was a thick, rough patch of skin between his thumb and index finger. A callus. It looked out of place on a man whose supposed life of leisure consisted of reading and going to the gym. It was hard, worn skin. The kind you got from repetitive, forceful work. A tool, or... something else. Aria's mind snagged on the detail, unable to place it, but a new kind of alarm bell, quiet and deep, began to ring.

Aria didn't drink the coffee. She couldn't. The phantom taste of bitter almonds was still coating her tongue.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He didn't come closer. He stayed by the bed, giving her space.

Before Aria could answer, the main door to the bedroom opened.

"Good morning, Mrs. Daniels!"

Bella. Their maid. Or rather, the spy Chloe had planted in Aria's house two years ago.

She bustled in, carrying a garment bag that Aria knew contained her gala dress. She was smiling, that bright, customer-service smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"You look a little pale," Bella said, hanging the dress on the hook. She turned to Aria, her eyes scanning Aria's face. "Did you take your vitamins yet? I put them out on the counter."

The vitamins. The slow-acting poison that had weakened Aria for months before the final dose.

Rage, hot and blinding, flooded Aria's system. It replaced the fear.

"Where were you last night, Bella?" Aria asked. Her voice was raspy, but steady.

Bella blinked. "I... I went home, ma'am. Like always."

"Liar."

Aria walked over to the nightstand and picked up her iPad. She didn't even turn it on. She just held it.

"The building logs show you didn't leave until 3:00 AM. And you didn't use the service elevator. You used the guest lift. Who were you meeting on the 40th floor?"

There was no one on the 40th floor except an empty unit owned by the Sloan family trust.

Bella's face went slack. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're fired," Aria said. "Get out. Now. Leave your key card on the dresser."

"You can't-" Bella looked at Kane. "Mr. Holt, she's not making sense."

Aria looked at Kane too.

He didn't look confused. He didn't ask Aria why she was firing their staff on the morning of the biggest day of her life.

He just took one step to the right.

It was a small movement, but it completely blocked Bella's path to Aria. He crossed his arms. His biceps bulged against the cotton of his shirt. He stared at Bella with eyes that were completely dead of emotion.

"You heard her," Kane said.

Bella flinched. She looked from him to Aria, realized she had lost whatever game she was playing, and threw the key card on the floor. She stormed out, slamming the door.

The silence returned.

Aria walked to the garment bag. She unzipped it. The white lace dress, worth fifty thousand dollars, shimmered in the light. It was the dress Jordan had picked out. He liked Aria in white. He said it made her look innocent.

Aria walked to the desk and grabbed the heavy fabric shears.

Kane watched her. He didn't move to stop her. He leaned back against the wall, one eyebrow raised.

Aria took the lace straps of the bodice in her hand and squeezed the shears. The sound of expensive fabric tearing was the most satisfying thing she had heard all morning.

Snip. Rip.

She destroyed the bodice. She cut until the dress was strapless, jagged, and ruined.

She dropped the scissors. They clattered on the floor.

"If I wanted to burn this city to the ground today," Aria said, turning to face him. "Would you help me?"

Kane looked at the ruined dress, then at Aria's face. He didn't blink.

"Is that in my job description?" he asked. His tone was dry, almost bored.

Aria walked up to him. She was close enough to smell his soap. Sandalwood and something sharp, like metal. She reached up and fixed the collar of his t-shirt. Her fingers brushed his neck. His pulse was slow. Steady.

"You're my husband, Kane," Aria whispered. "Your job is to be on my side."

His muscles rippled under her touch. He went rigid for a second, then relaxed. His eyes darkened.

"Honey, could you get the car ready?" Aria asked, her voice softer now, a careful performance. "Not the limo. The Maybach. I have an errand to run before all the chaos starts."

"Where are we going? The church?"

"No," Aria said. "The security center."

Kane studied her for another second. Then the corner of his mouth twitched upward. It wasn't a smile. It was an acknowledgment.

"Five minutes," he said.

He turned and walked out.

Aria went to the safe in the closet. She punched in the code. She took out the digital recorder she now knew she needed, the one she had seen in her nightmares.

She stripped off her pajamas. She didn't put on the white dress. She put on a white suit. Sharp shoulders. wide legs.

She looked in the mirror and applied a coat of blood-red lipstick.

Downstairs, inside the black Maybach, Kane tapped a message into a phone that looked like a brick.

Target is awake. Status changed.

Aria opened the passenger door and slid in. The lock clicked shut.