Kira’s POV
I arrived at Damien Wellington’s penthouse at exactly 6:43 AM, just as the city was beginning to wake up. The building was one of those sleek, modern high-rises buildings in the wealthy part of town - all glass and steel, the kind of place that scread "I can feed you and your generation."
Security knew by now. I flashed my ID at the front desk - Kyle Raymond, Head of Personal Security - and they waved through without question.
The elevator ride to the penthouse level was still and silent, giving ti to check my appearance in the mirrored walls. My chest binding was secure, my short hair perfectly styled, my masculine jawline enhanced with subtle contouring. Kyle stared back at - broader shoulders thanks to padding, flatter chest, more angular features.
You got this, Kira. Just another day of pretending to be a dude.
The elevator dinged softly as it reached the top floor. I stepped out into a private hallway with only one door - Damien’s penthouse.
I used my key card to enter, imdiately scanning the space of any signs of danger. Living room clear. Kitchen clear. No signs of disturbance or unauthorized entry overnight.
The penthouse was mind blowing as usual. Floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of the city. Everything was decorated in shades of gray and black - very masculine, very expensive, very Damien.
I heard water running from the master bedroom. He was in the shower.
This was my routine every morning: arrive before Damien was ready, sweep the premises for security threats, check all entry points, review the day’s schedule, and prepare the vehicle.
But today, I had an additional agenda.
Liv’s voice echoed in my mind from our conversation over the weekend: "Damien keeps staring at weird. Find out what his deal is."
I moved quietly through the penthouse, my eyes scanning for anything unusual. Damien was always careful with everything, no clutter, no ss. But that also ant any deviation from normal would stand out.
His ho office door was open - unusual. Damien always closed it.
I glanced toward the master bedroom. Water still running. I had maybe five minutes.
I slipped into the office, careful not to touch anything that would leave evidence of my snooping. His desk was neat - laptop closed, a few files packed on one corner, a pen holder, a photo fra facing away from .
Curiosity got the better of . I tilted the fra slightly to see the photo.
It was Damien and Maxwell, younger - maybe college age - with their arms around each other’s shoulders, big smiles on their faces. Before their present faces now that rarely smiled.
I turned my attention to the files. The top one was labeled "Jackyln Acquisition" - probably business. I carefully lifted the edge to peek at the one beneath it.
"Dubai project." was all I could make out before I heard the water shut off.
Shit.
I quickly repositioned everything exactly as it had been and slipped out of the office, closing the door to the exact angle I’d found it.
By the ti Damien erged from his bedroom five minutes later, I was standing by the window in the living room, apparently checking my phone.
"Good morning, Kyle," he said, his voice a little rough.
"Morning, sir." I turned to face him, maintaining my deep Kyle’s voice. "Everything’s clear. No security concerns overnight."
Damien was wearing expensive loungewear - designer sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt that showed off his athletic build. His dark hair was still damp from the shower, and he looked... well, breathtakingly hot. If he wasn’t involved in shady shit and making my best friend uncomfortable, I might have appreciated the view more.
"Coffee?" he asked, heading toward his espresso machine.
"Already had so, thanks."
He started making his coffee the way he usually did. "What’s on the schedule today?"
I pulled out my phone, consulting the calendar his assistant had shared with . "You have a 9 AM executive eting at Wellington & Sons. Lunch eting at 12:30 with the Sutton Group representatives. And a 3 PM conference call with the Thailand office."
"Sounds like a typical Monday." He took a sip of his espresso, studying over the rim of his cup. "You settling in well? It’s been what, one week now?"
"Yes sir, everything’s been smooth."
"Good." But there was sothing in his eyes - a weird look, like he was trying to figure sothing out about .
It was the sa look Liv had described him giving Oliver. Intense. Calculating.
Don’t let him see anything. Be Kyle. Just be Kyle.
"I’ll bring the car around while you get dressed," I said, breaking eye contact. "What ti do you want to leave?"
"8:15. That should get us to the office with ti to spare."
I nodded and headed for the door, feeling his eyes on my back the entire way.
Twenty minutes later, I was waiting in the underground garage, standing beside his classy black rcedes S-Class. I’d already checked the vehicle - no tampering, no tracking devices beyond the ones we’d authorized, everything secure.
Damien ca down at exactly 8:15, now dressed in a black suit that suited his figure perfectly. He looked every inch the powerful executive - polished, confident, intimidating.
I opened the back door for him. "Sir."
He slid into the backseat, and I closed the door before taking my position in the front passenger seat. Another security detail, Greg, was driving today. It was protocol - one person focused solely on driving, another on threat assessnt.
As we pulled out of the garage and into morning traffic, I kept my eyes moving, scanning pedestrians, other vehicles, anything that seed out of place. It was second nature now, this constant vigilance.
But part of my mind was still on the fact that I’ll have to snoop more if I wanted to find anything on my boss.
"Kyle," Damien’s voice ca from the backseat.
"Yes, sir?"
"Do you know Oliver Hopton? Maxwell’s assistant?"
My heart skipped a beat, but I kept my expression calm, my eyes still scanning the street. "I’ve t him briefly, sir. At the engagent party and at the hospital in Chicago."
"What’s your impression of him?"
Careful, Kira. Very careful.
"He seems competent and dedicated, sir. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious." But there was sothing in his tone that suggested more than re curiosity. "There’s sothing off about him. Can’t quite put my finger on it."
My hands clenched slightly in my lap. "Off how?"
"Just... sothing doesn’t add up. The way he moves, the way he talks sotis. Little inconsistencies."
Oh God. Does he know? Has he figured out Liv’s secret?
"Maybe he’s just nervous around the Wellington family," I suggested, keeping my tone casual. "From what I understand, your brother can be really intimidating."
Damien laughed. "That’s one way to put it. But no, it’s not nervousness. It’s sothing else."
He paused for a while, as if deep in thought, before finally speaking up. "Do a favor, Kyle. When we get to the office, I want you to observe Oliver if you see him. Tell if you notice anything unusual."
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
"Of course, sir. Though I’m not sure what I’d be looking for."
"You’ll know it when you see it. Trust ."
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