Chapter Two

NATALIA

I didn’t think far enough ahead when I called in the tip earlier today. I should’ve known I might come face to face with my family’s rivals. Obviously, I knew they’d be involved—I’m the one who reached out to them, after all. But I could’ve timed my escape better. Or planned for the fact that I’d end up sitting next to Jace.

Jace doesn’t seem all that bad, though. Not for a mobster, anyway. He’s kind—gentler than I expected—and there’s a calm confidence in him that feels nothing like the chaos I grew up with. He’s nothing like my family. Nothing like my father. Jace would never be involved in something as horrific as the trafficking ring my dad started.

What’s stranger is that I actually feel safe with him. The way he talks, the way he moves—it’s as if nothing in the world could touch me while I’m near him. I don’t think it would matter if he knew who I was. But I’m not ready to test that theory. Not yet.

Since we got in the car, he hasn’t said a word. He just sits there, solid and steady, like an anchor I didn’t realize I needed. And somehow, I’m calmer now than I’ve been in years. Everything feels less sharp, less terrifying, simply because he’s here.

When the car finally stops in front of a gleaming high-rise, Jace breaks the silence. His voice is soft but resolute.

“Let’s get you upstairs,” he says, glancing at me with those steady, unreadable eyes. “You’ll be safe here, I promise.”

I let him help me out of the car, his hand tight around mine as he leads me through the lavish glass doors. We get onto an elevator, and he nods at the concierge at the front desk. Once we’re inside the elevator, he looks me over. I’m worried that he might see some resemblance between me and my father.

Jace surprises me by asking, “Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?”

I blink at him, relief rushing through me. I say, “I’m okay now,” and I mean it.

A part of me wants to tell Jen. Up until now, I considered her my closest friend. We shared everything—our secrets, our lives, our fears. Then, she confessed something dark to me, something I couldn’t unhear. She said she’d been leading girls into our families’ safehouses for the sole purpose of being trafficked. I wanted to scream, throw up, rage…but instead, I made the call that would change everything. So no, I can’t tell her about Jace.

“Good,” he says firmly, grabbing my hand again and squeezing it softly.

We step off the elevator and into the penthouse. It’s fancy, but in a way that feels understated—everything is sleek and modern, but not gaudy. The furniture is high-end, the kind that’s comfortable but clearly expensive. There aren’t many decorations, just enough to tell the story of a place someone uses more for sleeping than living.

Jace leads me to the white couch, plush and inviting. He lingers, almost reluctant to let go of my hand. His fingertips brush against my palm when he finally pulls away. Then, he crouches down in front of me, his presence no longer as imposing. He rests his large hand on my cheek, and for a moment, I almost flinch from the heat of his touch.

“I’m going to grab you something hot to drink,” he says, his voice low and soothing, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. “You look like you’re freezing.” He pauses, his eyes searching mine. “Then, I’ll ask you a few questions.”

I open my mouth, but the words don’t come right away. I swallow hard, trying to steady myself. My eyes flutter shut as the warmth of his touch sinks deeper.

“I don’t…” I start, my voice shaky. “I don’t want to answer any questions.”

I hate lying to him. Even though I don’t have any reason to tell him the truth, it feels like I’m starting this... whatever this is between us, based on lies. But then again, is there even a relationship? We’ve barely spoken, yet every look we share, every subtle shift in the air, tells me there’s something there. Chemistry. And when I look into his honey-brown eyes, I swear I can see a future.

“It’s nothing intense,” he promises, his voice gruff, like softness isn’t something he’s used to giving. I feel something warm curl in my chest. Special.

But then he pauses, like he’s holding something back, like he doesn’t want to push any further.

“I don’t want to go home,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them, wondering if that’s what all of this is leading to.

“Then I don’t have any questions for you,” he replies, standing up straighter, the resolve in his voice shifting. “Well, I do have some, but they’re not as urgent. Our guys can figure out what I need to know.”

With that, he turns toward the kitchen, his touch still lingering on my cheek even after he’s out of the room. I hear the soft sounds of him moving around—water running, cabinets opening and closing, the hum of a kettle boiling. A few minutes later, he’s back, holding a steaming mug in his hands.

He doesn’t say anything right away, just watches as I sip the drink, the warmth spreading through me. Once I’ve taken a few swallows, he speaks again, his voice as soft as I think it can be.

“Can you tell me how you ended up there? Or who took you?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, and even though it’s not a full lie, it feels like one. A lie by omission.

He hums thoughtfully, settling beside me. His legs fall open, and his thigh presses against mine. I lean into it, the contact grounding me but also sparking something deeper inside. Encouraged, he rests his hand on my thigh. His fingers brush lightly over me, the touch both tender and possessive, making my pulse race.

“So, what happened in there?” he asks after a few moments of silence.

“They were keeping the girls in cages,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. At least this is something I don’t have to lie about. “It was awful, Jace. They… they were in handcuffs. They were so scared.”

“They’re safe now,” he promises, his voice firm, as he wraps his arm around me. “And so are you. You’re safe now, Natalia.”

I nod, the words sinking into me, even though part of me doesn’t feel like I deserve this comfort. But I’ll take anything he gives me. Maybe it’s greed, or maybe I’m just used to getting what I want. But I want him to want me, and from the way he’s looking at me, it seems like he does. And I won’t do anything to make him change his mind.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I say, my voice small and fragile, and I hate how weak it sounds.

I’m scared. I’m terrified of what he’ll do when he finds out who I really am. I’ll lose him, that much I’m sure of. I’m afraid of what my father will do when he finds out I’m with someone like Jace. And I don’t even want to think about what’s going to happen when Jen finds out I was the one who called in the tip.

God, I’m in hot water, aren’t I?

“How about I let you sleep in my bedroom?” he says, squeezing me tighter against his body. “My guest room isn’t made up yet. I’ll take care of that once I get you settled.”

I nod, letting him take the cup from my hands and pull me to my feet. I’m led through the penthouse, and it feels like this place never ends. It’s even bigger than I initially thought it was.

I’m led into a lavish bedroom, though it doesn’t feel lived in. The only sign that anyone actually spends time here is the ruffled pillows on the bed. It’s sterile, almost too perfect. He gestures for me to sit, then moves to the dresser to pull out a pair of sweats. He hands them to me and turns away.

“You can stay,” I say, not wanting to be alone.

He nods, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary before he turns his back. Suddenly, I feel like I’m under a microscope. Every inch of me feels exposed, and the heat in my face burns even brighter. I don’t have a lot of experience with this. With him.

I turn away quickly, fumbling to change, my pulse quickening as I feel his gaze follow me. It’s not just discomfort—it’s something else. Even though I’m self-conscious, I can’t deny the thrill of knowing he’s watching me. There’s a pull inside me, a desire to be seen by him, to be more than just a passing moment in his life. I want him to see everything.

I keep that to myself though. Instead, I gratefully pull on his clothes, warm and wrapped in his scent. A sense of safety washes over me as the soft fabric of his shirt slides along my skin.

“These are comfortable,” I tell him, turning to face him. I catch his gaze drifting up from my hips, and instantly my cheeks are hot.

“They look good on you,” he says, a smirk on his face. “I could get used to the sight of you wearing my clothes.”

I giggle, unable to come up with a good enough response. His gaze is fiery, simmering on my flesh. Somehow, it’s too much and not enough. I don’t know how to put what I want into words, but after a few minutes of heavy silence, Jace shifts his body. He takes a step backward without breaking eye contact. He’s backing up towards the door, but I don’t want him to go. I don’t want to be alone again.

“If you need me, I’ll be right–”

“Stay,” I blurt, the word escaping my lips before I can process what it means.

Jace blinks a few times, just as surprised by my request as I am. It’s impulsive, and stupid probably, but after everything I’ve been through…I can’t bring myself to take it back. Jace schools his face after a few beats, and then he’s crossing the room with soft steps on the carpet. He rubs his hand across his jaw before pulling back the comforter for me.

Once I’m settled, he changes into sweats, too. I’m enjoying the sight of his back muscles rippling as he pulls his clothes off, a sight for sore eyes. I wonder what they’d feel like under my fingertips. I curl my hands into fists under the sheets. Ugh, what am I doing? What am I thinking? A part of me is longing to be touched by him, to be touched by love and tenderness rather than pity and aggression. That’s not too much to ask for, is it?

Jace joins me in bed, scooting in close until his body heat wraps around me. I let him pull me into his chest, his warmth completely enveloping me. I tilt my head up, searching for his face, and find that he’s already looking down at me, his eyes heavy, hungry.

Time seems to slow as his gaze lingers on my lips. The air between us thickens, charged, as we drift closer together. Then, in an instant, time snaps forward. He closes the gap, and our mouths meet. A surprised sound slips from my throat, but I pull myself closer, returning the kiss with everything I’ve got.

Before the kiss even deepens, I know exactly where this is heading. His mouth is a promise, a spark against mine. Anticipation floods my veins, and the exhaustion that weighed on me just moments before seems to vanish, replaced by a burning energy that thrums through me.