Naomi paced her bedroom floor, worrying about eating at her like a canker worm. She had been awake all night, unable to sleep or even get any work done. Alex was still missing, and she had a feeling that it was her fault. Maybe she should have listened to her brother and dropped the project. Naomi's breathing became erratic by the minute as her mind conjured up every possible thing that could have happened to him. The last time she'd seen him, he was on his way to Professor Stella’s home to collect some evidence. He was supposed to meet her that night, and that was two nights ago. His location was off, and so was his phone. Something had definitely happened, but the problem was what? She was trying to be patient with Jeremy, but her gut told her she needed to be investigating too. Professor Stella was her prime suspect. And she needed to investigate herself. She hadn't asked about him, and he was supposed to be her lover. Something was wrong. She knew s

Jeremy stood there with his fists clenched, and the chilly air around him did little to calm the fire that was burning in his veins. The man who had tried to kidnap Naomi had been taken to one of the estate's underground rooms, where he was blindfolded, battered, and gagged. Jeremy didn't bother to go down there personally. Not yet. He didn't trust himself not to break every bone in the man's body before they had the information they needed. Jeremy told his guys in a quiet, deadly voice, "Get it out of him." "I want names." Who sent him, why, and how the heck did he get so close to her? I need answers. Now. "Yes, sir." "And bring Naomi back." Right away. I don't care if she complains. Jeremy went back to the main house while his guys ran away. His heart was hammering like a battle drum in his ears. Ariel was already there, sitting quietly in the lounge. Jeremy, who was still rattled by the attempt on Na

The night of the celebration came like a storm wrapped in silk. As Jeremy got out of the sleek black automobile, he adjusted his black suit jacket. Amy strolled next to him, her arm gently looped in his, and her long emerald dress sparkled with every step. She muttered, "You look good," and smiled at him from the side. He said, "You're not so bad yourself," but he was distracted. His heart raced, not because of Amy or the event, but because of the person he was about to meet. The FBI. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and sparkled, throwing gold-tinted light across the crowd of beautiful people. There was jazz music playing in the background, and the sound of champagne flutes clinking made a pleasant hum. From the outside, it seemed like a normal high-society party with champagne, whispers, and money. But Jeremy knew better. He saw Agent Larkin standing next to a big marble column at the other end of the

Jeremy thought the walls were closing in on him. The room was dimly lit and smelt like old cigars and expensive fragrance that tried too hard to cover up something darker underneath. The movie flickered on the screen again, showing his nude body, weak and confused, in moments he could scarcely recall. Another shot shows him leaning over a glass table with a neat line of white powder going up his nose. His skin crawled. "What the hell is this?" He said, his voice hoarse and his eyes jumping between the projector and the stone-faced men sitting across from him. Nobody said anything. Instead, they sat still and silent, like judges. Augustus, who was sitting next to him, was the only one who dared to move. He carefully clasped his hands in front of him. The projector stopped working. The room was full of silence, like a vice. Jeremy jumped up. "Who made that recording? You gave me drugs? You set me up? You- A voice said, "Sit down." It's cold. Und