Chapter 2 The Lion's Den

The Veridian Estate was a fortress of glass and cold stone that clung to the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic. It didn't feel like a home; it felt like a high-security laboratory.

Aria stepped into the foyer, her heels clicking sharply against the marble. A maid reached out to take her coat, but Aria pulled back.

"I can manage," she said, her voice tight.

"Hospitality isn't a trap, Aria. Though I admire the paranoia," Luca said, descending the floating staircase. He was in a tuxedo now, the black wool making him look even more like a shadow come to life.

"Everything you offer is a trap," she said, her eyes scanning the room. "Where are my rooms?"

"Our rooms," Luca corrected, reaching the bottom step. He stood inches from her, his scent a mix of expensive cologne and ozone. "The staff talks. The tabloids pay the gardeners. We share a wing. We share a suite."

Aria's heart pounded in her chest. "That wasn't in the verbal agreement."

It's in the "united front" clause. Page forty-two." He reached out, his fingers grazing her jawline. She flinched, but he didn't pull away. He leaned down, his breath warm against her ear. "Keep your friends close, they say. But I prefer to keep my enemies where I can see their hands."

She slapped his hand away. "You won't see anything but my back, Luca."

"We'll see." He looked at his watch. "The gala starts in an hour. The stylist is waiting. Wear an emerald dress. It matches the color of the envy your family used to feel for mine."

"My family felt pity for yours," she snapped. "Money can't buy class, and it certainly can't wash the blood off your hands."

Luca's eyes darkened. For a moment, the professional veneer cracked, revealing a raw, jagged edge of anger. "You talk about blood? Ask your father about the 2014 merger. Ask him who didn't make it out of that boardroom alive."

"My father is a man of honor!"

"Your father is an expert in ghost stories," Luca announced, his voice low and menacing. "Now, get out. Unless you want me to dress you?"

Aria left, her mind whirling. What was he talking about? 2014?

Aria entered the suite, and it was a work of art in minimalist elegance. And, as promised, there was only one bed. It was enormous, a king-sized white slab of linen that resembled an altar.

Aria ignored the stylists. She walked over to the window, gazing out at the crashing surf. She felt like a spy in a foreign country. She put her hand into her pocket and felt the encrypted drive.

She had to get access to his private server.

Aria descended an hour later, wearing the emerald green dress as if it were a second skin, silk that flowed like liquid envy. Her lips were a defiant red.

As she descended the stairs, Luca was waiting for her. He froze. The scotch in his hand halted midway to his lips.

"Will I do it for the cameras?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Luca placed the glass on the table. His eyes slowly traveled from her throat to her hem. "You look... enough."

"Liar," she whispered.

He moved closer to her, taking her hand and placing it in the crook of his arm. His hold was strong a warning. "Remember, Aria. Smile. Tell them we're in love. Tell them the feud is over."

"And if I can't lie that well?"

He moved closer to her, his lips inches from hers. "Then pretend I'm the man you're going to kill. People always look at their murderers with the most intense passion."

As they emerged into the waiting limousine, a flashbulb went off from the bushes.

Aria smiled, a perfect, glittering lie.

But as the car door closed, she felt something hard beneath the leather seat. She shifted, her hand brushing a cold, metallic object tucked into the map pocket.

A burner phone. It vibrated.

Aria looked at Luca. He was staring out the window, his jaw set. She discreetly pulled the phone just enough to see the screen.

Target is in position. Await the signal to extract the Hale data.

The air left Aria's lungs. He wasn't just marrying her for the company. He was a hitman for her data.