Chapter 2 Heat Beneath the Surface

The sea breeze swept through the open windows of Page & Spine Books, carrying the scent of salt and fading sunlight. Ivy's fingers moved absently over the keyboard as she updated the website. Her thoughts, however, were elsewhere-trapped between the firm edge of Gabriel Knight's voice and the silver-embossed business card he'd left on the counter.

It was still tucked inside her coat pocket like a splinter she couldn't remove.

She hadn't told anyone-not Maggie, not Nora, not even Elena, her best friend back in the city. Part of her feared speaking his name would summon the past too quickly. Another part-much quieter but more dangerous-wanted to see him again.

She had no intention of taking the job.

And yet...

Two days later, she was at the cliffside estate.

Gabriel had left her a note via courier:

> "For when you're ready to stop hiding. – G.K."

Attached was a time and address.

It was stupid. Reckless. But curiosity had its own gravity.

The house perched above Marlowe's jagged coast like a monument of glass and silence. It was sleek, modern, nearly invisible from the road. She was buzzed in by a voice she barely recognized-her own-and a steel gate parted to let her through.

Gabriel met her at the entrance, dressed in a charcoal shirt and slacks, barefoot on polished stone. His presence filled the space effortlessly.

"You came," he said.

"I'm not sure why."

"Honesty. That's rare."

She followed him through open spaces flooded with natural light, where the sea framed every window like a living painting. The home was beautiful-cold, yes, but in a way that invited rather than repelled. Like him.

They entered a minimalist room with a view that stole breath. Ivy sank into the leather chair he offered, spine straight, defenses up.

"I'm listening," she said.

Gabriel poured a drink-Scotch for him, tea for her, as if he already knew her habits.

"There's a data leak," he began. "Internal. Small, but dangerous. If it gets out, it'll tank a major acquisition I've been building for over a year. The press would love it."

"And you need me to fix it quietly?"

He nodded. "Your discretion is legendary. And despite what happened... you're the best."

The compliment stung. "You do realize hiring me could drag your name into scandal by association."

He met her gaze. "Only if people know you're working for me."

There it was. The line between risk and safety, drawn with perfect precision.

"I'm offering a temporary position," he added. "Consulting. Remote when needed. Double your last rate."

Ivy blinked. "That's... generous."

"You're not here for money."

"No," she agreed. "I'm not."

Their eyes locked, the air between them tightening like a wire. Ivy stood.

"I'll think about it," she said.

"Do that."

She turned to leave, then paused. "Why me? Why not someone less... tarnished?"

"Because," he said quietly, "you know what it feels like to be betrayed. That makes you dangerous-in the best way."

The following day, she said yes.

But only for two weeks.

Four days into the job, Ivy found herself on a private jet.

Gabriel had flown them to an exclusive resort in Capri-a business retreat under the guise of leisure. KnightTech's top investors were attending, and rumors were already swirling about the company's next move.

Her role was clear: monitor media presence, control narrative, and keep Gabriel out of trouble.

What she hadn't anticipated was the room.

"One suite," the concierge said in Italian-accented English. "As requested."

Ivy turned to Gabriel, eyes wide. "You said separate rooms."

He frowned slightly at the clerk. "There's been a mistake. Give us ten minutes."

Inside the suite, Ivy stood stiff as Gabriel removed his jacket.

"This wasn't intentional," he said.

"I'm not accusing you."

"But you're thinking it."

"No," she said, stepping onto the balcony to cool her nerves. "I'm just... aware of optics."

He joined her. The sunset painted his face in gold and fire. The ocean shimmered far below like molten glass.

"You're not what I expected," he said.

"Neither are you."

He smiled then-an honest, crooked thing that made him younger and unbearably handsome.

"Capri suits you."

"Because I'm wearing heels and mascara?"

"No. Because you look like someone who deserves beauty again."

Her breath hitched.

She turned away too late, and he saw it-the flicker of emotion she'd been trying to hide.

"Dinner's in an hour," she said, her voice thinner than before. "Let's not be late."

Dinner was served on the terrace beneath a canopy of hanging lights. Ivy wore a silk slip dress the color of moonlight, and Gabriel wore black, the top buttons of his shirt undone. Around them, guests laughed and talked in low, indulgent voices.

But Ivy only heard him.

"You're handling this better than I expected," he said between bites of grilled sea bass.

"Crisis management is my comfort zone."

"Even when the crisis is me?"

She glanced at him. "You're not a crisis. Yet."

His laugh was rare, but when it came, it was soft and real. The sound stirred something inside her.

After dinner, they walked the stone paths of the resort, passing marble statues and jasmine in bloom.

"This place is unreal," she whispered.

Gabriel stopped beside a fountain. "Come with me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

"Trust me."

He led her down to a private beach accessible only to VIP guests. The sand was warm from the sun, and the sky was filled with stars. No one else was there.

Gabriel removed his shoes, rolled up his pants, and stepped into the surf. Ivy hesitated.

"It's midnight," she said.

"All the best things happen at midnight."

She laughed, then gave in.

She stepped into the water, and it was warmer than expected. The sea lapped at her ankles, and the moon cast silver streaks across her skin.

Gabriel watched her with eyes like obsidian.

"You're beautiful when you stop hiding."

"I'm not hiding."

"You were," he said. "But not tonight."

She stepped closer. The waves whispered against them. His hand brushed her arm, then her cheek. She didn't move.

"Kiss me," he said, voice low.

Ivy's heart stuttered. She should've said no. Should've reminded him this was temporary. Professional.

Instead, she closed the distance.

Their lips met like a fuse being lit-soft at first, uncertain, then deeper, hungrier. The kiss tasted of salt and heat and everything she'd sworn to avoid. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, his hand curled behind her neck, and for a moment, she let herself forget the world.

They pulled apart only when the tide surged up around them.

"I shouldn't have done that," she whispered.

"Then stop me now."

He kissed her again-and this time, she didn't resist.

They returned to the suite breathless and soaked from the surf. Gabriel handed her a towel, and she laughed as she dried her hair.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he said.

She turned, eyes wide. "What?"

"You're not ready."

He disappeared into the next room.

Ivy stood there, barefoot on marble, her heart hammering against her ribs.

She didn't sleep.

The next morning, sunlight poured into the suite.

Ivy sat on the terrace, reviewing early media chatter about Gabriel's meetings. Her phone buzzed-an anonymous text:

> "You're in deep, Ivy. Walk away while you can."

She stared at it, blood draining from her face.

A second message followed:

> "You don't know who you're protecting."

She looked up as Gabriel emerged from the bedroom, coffee in hand.

And for the first time, she wondered-

What is he hiding?