6. Brie

CHAPTER 6

Brie

The wait feels endless. Every quiet tick of the clock on the wall is a countdown to disaster. My palms are sweating, but I keep them in my lap, not wanting to leave telltale palm-prints on the polished table, and channeling everything I observed from Terry about showing power through stillness.

I wish I hadn’t dragged Sophie into this. It was stupid of me—of course they’d check—and now she might be in danger because of me?—

The door opens, and Larry’s man pushes Sophie Johnson into the conference room. My heart sinks, and then sinks further. She looks terrified, glasses slightly askew, hair escaping from her usual meticulous bun. She’s trembling like a leaf. What have they?—

The air in the room shifts. The hair on the back of my neck rises.

And there she is.

Nik Kusek slips silently into the room directly after Sophie and her escort, gun trained directly at Larry’s head.

My heart lurches painfully. I told her to stay away, dammit…

But I’m so relieved she’s here.

Sophie makes a small, frightened sound and presses against the wall as Nik advances past her with the gun. Her eyes dart between Nik’s weapon and Larry, who surges to his feet with a curse, drawing his own weapon.

And I think of Terry bleeding out in his office, of how quickly violence can shatter everything.

“You better fucking—” Larry’s voice is ugly with rage.

“Everyone stop.” I put every ounce of authority into my voice that I can carry. “We’re not going to have a firefight in the goddamn conference room. Put the guns away before someone does something stupid.”

“She better get the hell out,” Larry snarls, his finger twitching near the trigger. I hear Frank’s sharp intake of breath, see Vince tensing beside me, weighing up his options. “What the fuck is she even doing here?” Larry goes on, looking at me.

“For goodness’ sake, Larry, what else did you expect? She’s my bodyguard. Where I go, she goes, even if you don’t like it.” I let my lips curl into a slight smile. “And even if I don’t, apparently.”

Vince actually chuckles at that, settling back in his chair like he’s watching a particularly entertaining show. His amusement only serves to infuriate Larry more, and I catch Sophie flinching at Larry’s growing rage.

She knows, just like I do, how dangerous wounded male pride can be.

“Oh, sit down , Larry,” Frank snaps, his patience wearing thin. The vein in his forehead is bulging out—never a good sign.

“Not unless she puts that gun away.” Larry’s jaw is set, his cloying aftershave growing stronger as he starts to sweat.

I meet Nik’s eyes across the room, finding strength in that steady blue gaze. God, how does she do that? How does she make me feel so safe with just a look? “Nik, I’d like you to comply.”

She holsters her weapon immediately, smooth and professional, but her voice is hard when she says, “I’m not leaving this room.”

I already knew she was loyal, down to her bones. But this, I think, could be something more than loyalty.

Something deeper.

Larry opens his mouth to argue, but Frank cuts him off. “It doesn’t matter. Breezy will be going straight to Juno Bianchi’s suite after this meeting anyway—as you promised, Larry.” The reminder makes Larry flush deeper.

“You! Sit down,” he barks at Sophie instead, trying to salvage some authority. She jumps, and I see Nik’s hand twitch toward her holster again. “Let’s get on with this.”

Frank dismisses the guard with a wave, then turns to Sophie with exaggerated gentleness. “It’s alright, sweetheart. We just want you to tell us what you know.” His tone is pure condescension, but at least it’s better than Larry’s threats.

Sophie looks like she might faint, going ashen with fear. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. I see the moment panic starts to overwhelm her—the slight widening of her eyes, the way her breathing gets shallow.

She looks at me, and I give what I hope is an encouraging nod.

“Listen here—” Larry starts shouting, half-rising from his chair again. The movement makes Sophie cower, and I see tears gathering in her eyes.

This ends now.

“Quiet down, Larry,” I snap. “You’ll give yourself a coronary.” I turn to Sophie, keeping my voice warm and steady. “The men just want to hear about that night we went out for drinks after work. Remember? The night?—”

“Shut it,” Larry growls. “No leading the damn witness.”

But I already see understanding dawn in Sophie’s eyes—sharp, quick, beautiful to behold. And I see the moment she pushes her fear aside, the moment she chooses to be brave.

“Yes,” she says softly, and then again, “Yes,” her voice gaining strength. I see her reading the room in a micro-second, observing, understanding. “Mrs. Colombo and I went out for drinks after work one night.”

Vince leans forward, eyes glittering. “What night was that exactly?”

Sophie doesn’t even hesitate. “The night Mr. Colombo was murdered.”