Chapter 8
Kaycee spent the morning pacing the villa. She explored every room, touching his books, his clothes. She was imprinting herself on his space.
Around noon, her phone rang.
Aldo.
The name on the screen made her blood run cold. The warm, fuzzy feeling from the morning evaporated instantly.
She took a deep breath, changing her posture. She slumped her shoulders, relaxed her face into a bored expression. She answered.
"Hey, babe," she said, her voice pitching up an octave into a whine.
"Where the hell are you?" Aldo's voice was sharp. "Corrine said you flaked last night. Did you get the money from Gallagher?"
"Ugh, don't start," Kaycee sighed, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "He was being such a jerk. He wouldn't even see me. I had to crash at my dad's place because I was so upset."
"You're useless, Kaycee," Aldo spat. "We need that cash. The investors are getting antsy."
"I'm trying, okay? He's just… difficult."
"Well, try harder. Listen, there's a dinner tonight at the Ritz. The Blackwood Group investors will be there. I need you to come. Wear something… appealing. We need to charm them."
Kaycee's eyes narrowed. In her past life, this dinner was where she had been groped by a sixty-year-old banker while Aldo laughed and looked the other way.
"Of course, baby," she cooed. "I'll be there. I'll look stunning."
"Good. 7 PM. Don't be late."
He hung up.
Kaycee lowered the phone. Her expression shifted from vapid doll to cold assassin.
"I'll be there," she whispered to the empty room. "And I'm going to burn your little world down."
She needed to get back to the city. She needed to prepare.
She drove back to the Serrano estate, taking the curves fast. She spent the afternoon plotting. She raided her closet, bypassing the skimpy dresses Aldo preferred.
She chose a dress she had bought years ago and never worn. It was a high-necked, long-sleeved navy blue gown. It was modest, elegant, and screamed 'old money.' It was armor.
She retrieved the folding knife from her clutch and strapped it into a discreet thigh holster, the cool metal a comforting weight against her skin.
Before the dinner, she made a detour.
She drove to Gallagher-Sterling Tower. She walked past the security guards who tried to stop her, her chin held high.
She took the elevator to the top floor. Liam Vance, Hunter's assistant, looked up in alarm as she stepped off the elevator.
"Miss Serrano? Mr. Gallagher is in a meeting-"
"I know," she said, smiling sweetly. She placed a brown paper bag on his desk. "This is lunch. Make sure he eats it. He skipped breakfast."
Inside was a sandwich she had made before leaving the villa. It was simple. Ham and cheese. But she had cut the crusts off, just the way he liked it.
"And Liam?"
"Yes, Miss?"
"Don't tell him I bought it. Let him wonder."
She winked and walked away, leaving a bewildered assistant in her wake.
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