As he continued his walk through the hallway, he received a ssage from his assistant about the eting he had earlier that day, but he didn’t check it. He couldn’t help but feel that he had to get back to reality, to his logical way of thinking. The "voice" that Viktoria heard was probably nothing more than the ghosts of his past haunting him, which he didn’t have any business interfering with.
Finally reaching the guest suite, he gave way for Mateo to co in. "The maid left so pajamas for you on the bed. I’m right down the hallway if you need anything," he said.
Mateo gave him an odd look for a little boy, looking much older than his years. "Thank you, Mr. Nathan. You’re kind, even though you look at my mommy like you’re sad "
Nathan went still for a second, then forced a small, tight smile. "Get so sleep, Mateo."
He closed the door and leaned his back against the wood, the silence of the manor finally settling around him. For the first ti in hours, his heart rate slowed. He wasn’t a man who believed in miracles or resurrections. He believed in what he could see, touch, and sign into a contract.
He began to walk toward his own study, ready to bury himself in work until the sun ca up, determined to treat tomorrow as just another busy day.
#######
The sun shone through the dense silk curtains into the guest suite and made long, bright lines fall onto the bed. Viktoria’s eyelids started fluttering and she forced herself to open her eyes despite the glaring light coming through. The first thing she saw were the intricately designed moldings on the ceiling but her mind was totally blank.
Viktoria sat up carefully and massaged her temple. There was no sharp, burning pain but only an ache behind her eyes. Around her, she found the luxurious decor and unfamiliar antique furnishings. Beside the bed stood a dical monitoring device, an advanced one.
"Where..." she whispered hoarsely
The door creaked open, and Nathan stepped in, already dressed in a sharp charcoal suit. He paused, his hand still on the brass handle, his eyes searching hers for any sign of the woman who had been screaming about voices and "treatnts" just hours ago.
"You’re awake," he said, his tone carefully neutral—professional, even. "How are you feeling?"
Viktoria pushed her hair back, looking genuinely confused. "A bit groggy. To be honest, Mr. Keith, I’m incredibly embarrassed. The last thing I rember is being in the VIP room and... did I faint?"
Nathan studied her. There was no terror in her gaze, no recognition of a "ghost." She looked exactly like the composed, formidable business partner he had t at the start of the week.
"You collapsed," Nathan explained, stepping further into the room. "The doctor said it was severe exhaustion. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard with the rger preparations."
Viktoria let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh. "I suppose I have. I’m so sorry for the drama. It’s not like to be so... fragile. Where is Mateo? Is he alright?"
"He’s in the dining room with Dr. Aris, having breakfast," Nathan replied, feeling a strange mix of relief and a lingering, quiet disappointnt. The "Fiona" he thought he saw last night was gone, replaced by the woman he was supposed to be doing business with. "He was worried, but he’s doing fine now."
Viktoria nodded, already swinging her legs out of bed, her business-first instincts kicking back in. "Good. Then if you’ll excuse , I’ll get dressed. We have a lot to cover before the board eting this afternoon. I don’t want my ’fainting spell’ to be the headline of the day."
Nathan watched her move toward the ensuite bathroom with perfect poise. Whatever had happened on that balcony—whatever blur of voices she had heard—seed to have vanished with the morning mist.
#####
In her private penthouse, the air was thick with the scent of expensive lilies and Natasha’s simring rage. She paced the floor, her heels Marcus stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, refusing to look at her.
"One simple job, Marcus," Natasha hissed, spinning around to face him. Her face, usually a mask of sculpted perfection, was contorted with fury. "One. Simple. Job."
Marcus finally turned, his eyes flashing with a spark of defiance. "The plan changed the second you told to kill a woman and a child. That wasn’t the deal, Natasha. We agreed I’d spike Nathan’s drink at the gala, get him to a hotel room tucked away from the press, and leave him there for you to ’find’ him. It was supposed to be a setup, not a bloodbath."
Natasha let out a sharp, mocking laugh that set his teeth on edge. "A setup? The ’setup’ died the mont that ghost walked into the room! Did you see his face? He wasn’t looking at a business partner; he was looking at her."
"I don’t care who he was looking at," Marcus snapped, stepping toward her. "I’m a professional, not a hitman for your hallucinations. I had the vial ready, I had the room booked, but then the woman collapsed and Nathan went into protective mode. There was no window to get close to his glass without being seen by his security."
Natasha’s eyes turned cold and predatory. She stepped into his personal space, her voice dropping to a dangerous, jagged whisper. "So, let get this straight. Did you get it done? Did you put him in that bed where he belongs?"
Marcus remained silent, his chest heaving.
"No!" Natasha scread, the sound echoing off the glass walls. "You didn’t! You’re fucking useless! I pay you to handle the variables, not to grow a conscience the mont things get complicated."
She grabbed a crystal decanter from the side table and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, soaking the expensive wallpaper in amber liquid.
"The money, Marcus," Natasha said, her voice dropping from a scream to a deadly, vibrating hum. She stepped toward him until she was inches away, the sll of her expensive perfu clashing with the sharp scent of the spilled liquor. "I paid you an absolute fortune to ensure Nathan was in that hotel room by midnight. I paid for a scandal, a sedative, and a clean exit."
Marcus shifted his weight, his jaw working. "The situation shifted. I told you, the woman—"
"I don’t give a damn about the woman!" she shrieked, slamming her hand onto the marble console. "I paid for results, not excuses! You didn’t deliver him, you didn’t spike the drink, and you let him slip through your fingers like a rank amateur."
She reached into her silk clutch, pulling out a slim, gold-plated phone and waving it in his face. "That wire transfer I sent to your offshore account? I want it back. Every. Single. Cent. You didn’t do the job, so you don’t get the payday."
Marcus’s eyes darkened. "I put my neck on the line following them to the estate. I’m not giving back a di for a night spent dodging Nathan’s security."
"Then you’d better start praying," Natasha hissed, her eyes narrowing into slits. "Because if that money isn’t back in my account by the ti the banks open, or if you don’t find a way to fix this disaster at the manor today, I’ll make sure the police get an anonymous tip about who really arranged that ’accident’ two years ago. We can go down together, Marcus, but I have much deeper pockets for a legal defense than you do."
She pointed a trembling, manicured finger toward the door. "Get out. And don’t co back until Nathan is under my thumb or that woman is gone. Useless is a kind word for what you are right now."
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