East

Ice—cold washed over me, leaching all heat, warmth, and love from my body. Leaving behind a shell.

What the hell had she done?

Spasms gripped my gut and held my breath hostage as I tried to think through any rational explanation.

But there wasn't any rational explanation.

Nyla, had betrayed me. The first time I had let anyone truly get close to me in years and this was what happened. I had actually let myself care about someone. And she was still investigating us. Had she ever stopped?

At the beginning, I’d thought I'd been playing her. Keeping her occupied and away from what we were doing with London Lords. But she’d been the one playing me.

Fuuuck.

I wasn't even fully out of the apartment before I placed a frantic call to Ben.

He'd answered in the middle of the second ring. "What's up, mate?"

"We have a fucking problem."

Whether it was my tone, or he could hear the tension in my voice, his tone changed entirely. "Is someone dead?"

"Nyla didn't stop investigating us."

"What do you mean, she didn't stop?"

"You heard me. She didn't fucking stop. I'm looking at the fucking murder board of everything we've done. She knows it all. And if she doesn't know it yet, she's trying to make connections. Someone's feeding her information. Right now, she has a list of at least ten of our members, and she's going to keep going."

His long drawn out, "Fuuuuck," on the other end, was a reassurance that, at least, he understood the seriousness. "Come back."

"Yup. I'm on my way in. Just need to make a quick detour."

"I'll get Bridge and Drew." He sighed. "Fuck mate, I thought you'd handled her."

"Yeah. Motherfucker, I thought I did too."

For years, I employed limits. I had boundaries. I had lines I would not cross.

Not anymore. Those lines were specifically set for people I cared about.

That no longer included Nyla.

Are you sure about that?

I shoved aside the worry and the voice of reason that attempted to surface. They weren't real. She wasn't real. I thought I’d been falling for her. I’d thought I hadnt’ been as closed off as I’d always assumed. But none of those things existed. Any relationship with her was a pure fabrication on my part.

Yes, it was real.

The fuck it was. And since it wasn’t. I was going to do what I should have done with her from the very beginning.

I strode out of the building turning towards TUBE STATION as I made my call. I’d come back for my car after. First, I had a few things I needed to take care of.

Charlie Cox, general manager of the SoHo London Lords, wasn’t used to getting calls on a Sunday from me but still he answered cheerily.

"Hey, Charlie. Sorry to interrupt your weekend, but I need a lockdown protocol on an Agent Nyla Kincade. I don't want her anywhere near the premises. Any hotel, anywhere. You got me?"

He didn't even hesitate. "Yes, sir. I'll make it happen straight away."

I knew if she still had her badge, that would have negated me barring her from London Lords hotels. But she didn't have a badge anymore, so she was going to be shit out of luck.

I thanked Charlie, and then made a call to my assistant, Belinda. She didn't answer, but I left her a terse message. "Belinda, I have a no—access protocol on one Nyla Kincade. If she attempts to contact our offices in any way, shape, or form. Call me immediately."

When I was done with that, I had to stop and lean against a post box. My blood was roaring, making me weak. That sinking feeling in my gut left me dizzy.

My inability to breathe, felt like a god damn elephant had parked it on my chest.

I leaned over slightly and forced a deep breath into my lungs. Long, deep, sharp pulls. Why the fuck did it feel this way?

This was Nyla. She was always clear and direct. I knew that about her. So how hadn’t I known she was lying? Speaking the truth was at her very core, so what had I missed? She wouldn’t have told an outright lie, but fuck, there could have been a million little evasions. Half—truths I didn’t see.

You were the idiot who was thinking with your cock.

Fuck me.

I forced myself to stand up straight. I wasn't going to be a pussy about this. I was going to make her pay. I was due a pound of flesh.

I forced myself to slide into the leather of my BMW in the front seat. I cranked up the Stormzy, needing some good old grime to get me through what I had to do.

Up until this point, I had treated her with kid gloves. But those kid gloves had only put everyone in danger. This wasn't happening again.

On my phone, I pulled up my security folder, tapped in my code, and pulled up the app I’d programmed myself, then engaged Bird's Eye Protocol.

Bird's Eye Protocol was my full surveillance package. Anything and everything I needed to see, I could. It wasn’t something I did lightly as it was a gross breach of privacy. I didn't have it on the lads, or my sister.

I’d set the cameras hen I hadn’t known her for a situation just as this. I’d never turned them on in her flat though. Only the ones outside.

It was the most invasive form of surveillance. Normally, I would have cameras inside her home, her work. I only had the one in her laptop, and in her office. I needed more cameras in her flat. The one across the road was the only security system that I tapped into.

I had at least downloaded the software onto her phone before we’d spent that day together. Before I’d started to catch a case of feelings.

I’d mostly forgotten about it after. But I needed it now.

Or, you could talk to her.

What the hell was that bullshit about? No. If I talked to her, she would know she’d been caught out and formulate a lie. This was all because I had to get my cock wet.

Fuck. Of all the daft things.

You can bitch, or you can fix it.

Oh, I was going to fix it, all right. And Nyla was going to regret ever crossing me.

All she did was make you love her.

And that was bad enough.

Once my Bird's Eye Protocols were engaged, screens popped up on my app, about everything Nyla. Her phone gave me her location. She was headed back towards the Tube.

I leaned forward into my glove compartment nd pulled out several surveillace cameras. It was a matter of quick work and tricky placement. But I was back in ten minutes and had bugged her whole lair or whatever the hell she and Amelia called that place.

Checking my phone, I smiled when I saw she was headed toward London Lords. That would give me time to properly place cameras in her flat. I’d want eyes on her bedroom, bathroom, the living room, and her kitchen. I already had her desk at work, the main conference room at her job. And now her makeshift lair.

You're a sick freak.

Next step was her flat to do a more thorough job.

Nyla wouldn't make a single move without me knowing. No way in hell was I getting caught unaware again. We’d risked too much. Come too far. When this was over with Jameson, I'd walk away from her. But right now, if I had to keep an eye on her, I would.

But she'd already shattered my heart. No way in hell could that happen again.

***

Nyla

What a shit show.

I scurried out of the Tube and practically ran to the London Lords hotel. Christ.

I needed to see East. I had called him twice, but he hadn't answered. I knew he had a meeting, but what if he hadn't gone to the office? Where else could he have gone?

Panic had my heart pounding into my ribs. The normal thump, thump, steady rhythm going taka—taka—taka. Amelia was good. She was very good. I couldn't believe how much work she'd already done.

I hadn't known she was that invested.

Weren’t you the one who compelled her? Fed the interest?

What the hell was I going to do? She was my partner. My best mate. I had dragged her down this rabbit hole. And now, she'd given it a life of its own. I needed to warn East. At least let him know what was going on.

The bell hop met me with a smile. "Good morning, maam. Do you have any luggage?"

I shook my head. "No thanks."

Before he could question me further, I shuffled inside. My trainers making a squeak, squeak, squeak sound as I hustled on the sleek marble with the chandelier's light refracting across the striations.

The concierge found me next. "Agent Kincade, it's a pleasure to see you again."

I frowned. "Have we met?"

"We did, briefly. How can I help you today?"

I pointed to the elevator. "I'm just going to go see Mr. Hale, it's urgent."

He gave me a warm smile and clasped his hands behind his back before giving me a slight bow. "I'm so sorry, but Mr. Hale is not available at the moment."

"Well, do you mind if I just go up and wait? This is really important."

"I'm so sorry, Miss Kincade. You won't be allowed to go up and wait."

A fissure of unease crept up my spine. "I don't understand. What's going on? Is there a reason you won't let me upstairs? I know he put me on his permit list."

"Well, as you understand, Mr. Hale resides at the Penthouse loft. Unless he specifically has you on his access list or grants you permission, or you have a warrant, then, I can't let you up."

From the periphery, I noticed two large men dressed in suits, inching their way towards me. Then I knew. " What's happening here?"

Thomas, the concierge, or at least that's what his badge said, gave me another soft smile. "Perhaps if you can come back at another time, something will change?"

I blinked at him. How is this happening? I had just left East. We’d shagged this morning. He’d looked at me like he adored me.

Did he give you the words? I shoved the thought aside.

"There must be some kind of mistake. Check again. Call him. I was just here not a few days ago. Surely, nothing has changed."

How the hell had he kissed me goodbye like that, then banned me from the hotel? What had happened?

My brain kept trying to offer a myriad of unhelpful scenarios. But I refused to believe them. He did care about me. No way he could fake that. Hell, I’d met his friends. They'd enveloped me as part of their team. Part of the plans.

There was no way this was happening. No way in hell. I knew him.

Are you sure about that?

He wouldn't have given me that kind of access to the people he loved the most in the world. He trusted me. We trusted each other. I believed him when he told me about the Elite, and what had happened in the past. This was a mistake. It had to be.

When I realized that security was, in fact, coming for me, I sighed. "There is no need for all of that. I'll just keep calling him."

They formed a lose semi—circle around me. Not too tight as to alarm me, or to draw attention, but enough so I could see them positioned strategically, in case I decided to cause harm or do damage.

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

I put my hands up. "Fine. I'm leaving."

The concierge gave me that tight smile again, bowing even lower. "Madam."

His effusive smile irritated me. "So, just out of curiosity, if I was staying here, could you boot me?"

His smile was easy enough. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss Kincade, but we're all booked for the evening. If you prefer, try and make an online reservation."

I nodded. "Nope, it won't be necessary. I understand."

This was a mistake. It had to be. As I frantically staggered back out onto the streets of Soho, the people bustling around me, the sounds of the car horns, the din of the city fading into the background, and a numb, icy silence overtook my body. He'd done this on purpose. He'd blocked me. Between last night and this morning, something had changed. What the hell have happened?

Or, everything he’d told you was a lie. He doesn't actually care about you. He told you what you needed to hear, to get what he wanted.

I leaned against the stone exterior of the hotel. I had no choice. Because I couldn't breathe. There was no way East would cut me off like this. There was no way he wouldn't talk to me.

Well, he did. So, what are you going to do now?

My head swam. My brain refusing to believe what was right in front of it. Refusing to acknowledge that not only had I been cast aside, but in the most painful way possible.

East was done with me. But instead of talking to me, this morning when he'd kissed me and told me how much he cared for me. All along, he knew what he was planning to do. He’d known that he was done. He knew that I was blindly falling for him.

My automatic reaction was to fight back. Hurt him just as much as he'd hurt me. Hurt him the way every other men in my life had hurt me. I wanted to. I wanted to make him bleed. But some voice inside me which was quiet before, spoke even louder in the numbness.

Think. This doesn't make sense. Follow your instincts. Your gut will lead you.

But my gut was wrong.

Figure out the pattern. Apply logic. This isn't right. Something else happened.

I ran my hands through my hair as I tried to piece it together. We’d kissed goodbye. The way he'd woken me up this morning, all sexy and lazy smiles and let—me—feed—you breakfast, 'Oh wait, here's my cock instead.' Kissing goodbye at his car. The way he watched me go down the stairs at the Tube. And then I'd gone to Amelia’s. What could possibly have happened between then and now?

Nothing. You just got fucked and fucked over by the billionaire. You weren’t the first and you certainly won’t be the last.