RICO
He had been in worse situations.
Worse wars.
Worse betrayals.
Worse bloodshed.
So why the hell was one moment stuck in his head like a wound that refused to close?
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Rico stood alone in his room long after Bella had left.
The silence should have helped.
It usually did.
But tonight, it didn't.
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He pressed his fingers against the edge of the table, steadying himself.
A mistake.
That was all it was.
A lapse in judgment.
A reaction.
Nothing more.
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But his mind replayed it anyway.
The way she looked at him without fear.
The way she spoke like she wasn't standing in front of a man people avoided in rooms.
The way she didn't move away when she should have.
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And the kiss.
His jaw tightened.
"That was nothing," he muttered to himself.
But even he didn't sound convinced.
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Rico Zander did not lose control.
He didn't slip.
He didn't react.
He calculated.
Always.
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But Bella Collins…
She didn't fit into calculations.
That was the problem.
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His gaze darkened.
She was a tool.
A connection.
A necessary piece in a larger design.
That was all she was supposed to be.
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So why did it feel like something in him had shifted?
He exhaled sharply.
No.
He wouldn't allow it.
Not again.
Not after everything.
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Her father had taken too much.
Destroyed too much.
And Rico had spent years turning pain into structure, structure into power, and power into revenge.
He was not going to lose focus now.
Not for her.
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Still…
The memory stayed.
Unwanted.
Persistent.
Alive.
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BELLA
I couldn't sleep.
That was the honest truth.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my fingers lightly pressed against my lips.
As if that could erase what had happened.
As if my body hadn't already memorized it.
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It wasn't supposed to happen.
It was a mistake.
That's what I kept telling myself.
A dangerous mistake.
With a dangerous man.
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Rico Zander was not someone I should be thinking about.
He was cold.
Controlled.
Unreachable.
Everything I had already learned.
Everything I had already confirmed.
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But my thoughts refused to listen.
Because for a split second…
He wasn't cold.
He wasn't distant.
He was just… there.
Too close.
Too real.
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And I hated how my heart had reacted.
Hated it more than anything else.
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"This is not part of the plan," I whispered to myself.
My plan was information.
Escape.
Freedom.
Not confusion.
Not hesitation.
Not him.
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But then I remembered his eyes.
That flicker.
That moment where control almost failed.
Almost.
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And something inside me tightened.
Because I had seen something I wasn't supposed to see.
Not just power.
Not just danger.
But a crack.
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And cracks meant opportunity.
Or destruction.
Sometimes both.
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I turned onto my side, pulling the blanket closer.
"I just need information," I told myself firmly.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
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But even as I said it…
I wasn't sure anymore if I was convincing myself.
Or lying.
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Because somewhere between fear and curiosity…
Rico Zander had started becoming something far more dangerous than I expected.
Not just a man I needed to escape.
Not just a target.
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But someone I was starting to understand.
And that was the most dangerous part of all.