"We should go to a regular store," Martin said as Taylor dragged him toward the boutique's gleaming glass doors. "This place looks expensive."Taylor stopped and turned to him, hands on her hips. "Ryan, Mr. Luther already gave us the money. Why should we settle for cheap clothes when we can afford better?""It's not about affording it. It's about...""About what? Your pride again?" She grabbed his arm. "Come on, we need to look professional for the job. First impressions matter."Before they reached the entrance, a security guard stepped in front of them. His eyes swept over Martin's worn clothes and unkempt beard with undisguised contempt."Hold on," the guard said, blocking their path. "Do you two know where you are?"Taylor frowned. "We're here to shop."The guard chuckled. "Shop? This is Belmont Boutique, not a thrift store." He looked Martin up and down. "Do you even have money to shop here?"Martin's jaw tightened but he said nothing."Excuse me?" Taylor's voice rose. "What kind

Martin sat at a corner table in the company canteen, picking at his lunch. The food was decent, better than what he'd been eating for months. But it tasted like ash in his mouth.Everything tasted like ash now.The door opened and Taylor walked in, scanning the room until she spotted him. Her face lit up and she headed straight for his table.Martin watched her cross the canteen. She looked different and professional. The clothes they'd bought yesterday fit perfectly. Her hair was styled, and she carried herself with confidence.She looked like she belonged here. "Hey!" Taylor set her tray down across from him. "Finally found you. This place is huge."Martin forced a smile. "Yeah. It's big." "How was your morning?" She dug into her food eagerly. "Mine was insane. They threw me into meetings right away. I barely know what I'm doing." "You'll figure it out." "I hope so." She took a bite, then looked at him. "What about you? How's the cleaning going?" "It's fine."Taylor frowned

Taylor blinked and looked again. The figure had moved. Or disappeared. Or maybe she'd imagined it. "Taylor!" Cole called from the entrance. "Are you coming?"She hurried to catch up, but her mind raced. Had that been Ryan watching them? How would he even know where they were?Inside, the maître d' greeted Cole like an old friend. "Mr. Luther! Your usual table?" "Yes. The private room in the back."Private room.Taylor's pulse quickened. "Actually, can we sit in the main dining area? I'd prefer..." "I prefer privacy," Cole interrupted smoothly, his hand finding the small of her back. "When I'm dining with someone special."He guided her through the restaurant. His hand pressed firmly against her back, too low, too intimate. She wanted to pull away but his grip was strong.They entered a small private dining room with elegant décor, expensive paintings, and a single table set for two. And most importantly, a door that closed behind them shutting them off from the rest of the world

Martin checked the clock on the wall. Twelve twenty, Cole was at lunch with Taylor as usual. The security guards had just entered the CCTV room. He had maybe thirty minutes to do what he had planned.Two weeks, that's how long he'd been studying Luther Enterprises. When employees arrived. When they left. Which cameras covered what angles. When the blind spots appeared. He'd written everything in a notebook hidden in his locker. Security shift changes at two PM. Cole's lunch schedule, always the same restaurant everyday. The names of businessmen Cole met with. Patterns everywhere.His memory flickered more each day. Last night he'd dreamed of signing contracts in that office. The week before, he remembered the conference room at twelve. Faces came back in pieces, but names stayed just out of reach. But the big questions remained buried. That hunting trip. The betrayal and why they wanted him dead. He'd searched everywhere for answers. Storage rooms. Archives. Old filing cabinets in th

Taylor, wait..." "No." She backed toward the door. "I need space. I need to think. I need to not be in this room with you right now." "Where are you going?" "I don't know! Anywhere!" She reached for the door handle, then stopped. Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Are you dangerous?" The question hit Martin like a punch to the gut. "What?" "Are you dangerous?" Taylor turned to look at him, and for the first time since he'd known her, he saw fear in her eyes. Fear of him."You said someone tried to kill you. You said you don't remember who, but what if they had a reason? What if Martin Luther was a bad man? What if whoever tried to kill you did it because you deserved it?" "I didn't deserve to die." "You don't know that, you said so yourself that your memory is incomplete!" Tears streamed down her face now. "I pulled a man from a river. A man with bullet wounds. A man who was left for dead. And now you're telling me that man was a billionaire CEO who someone w