Page 68 of Forged

I watch him carefully. “When do we tell Zara?”

Enzo drags a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell her this evening.”

Kelly Kavanagh standing beside Falco wasn’t random. And Falco leaving that camera intact wasn’t accidental. I run scenarios through my brain to assess every angle that Falco could be playing by making it known he’s connected to Kelly and why he’s so friendly with Zara’s dead brother’s widow.

Enzo nods once to Rowan. “Send the full file to my secure server. Keep your eyes on the routes and Cormac, increase presence on the streets.”

Rowan closes his laptop and the display on the wall goes dark. “Understood.”

Falco didn’t just test a shipping lane, he sent a personal message.

And he did it on purpose.

The doorto my penthouse closes behind me with a quiet seal.

From the living room, the familiar cadence of announcers drifts through the space—voices dissecting hands from the International Professional Poker Tour. I loosen my tie as I step inside, letting the sound guide me.

Memories of those first few nights in Austin surface—Neomi at the table, her sexy, calm demeanor, her calculating eyes. The way she lets men think they’re reading her correctly only to take them down. The way she glanced at me over a stack of chips like she already knew how the hand would end.

I tug the tie free and drop it onto the island, shrugging out of my jacket.

When I round the couch, she’s curled beneath a blanket, hair spilling over one shoulder, gaze fixed on the screen. The sight ofher here—comfortable and settled in our home—does something to my chest that I’m still getting used to.

She looks up when she senses me.

“You’re home.” A soft smile touches her mouth. “How was your meeting?”

I sit beside her and reach for the blanket, pulling it away and setting it to the side. My hands settle at her hips as I guide her onto my lap. She comes willingly, thighs sliding around mine, fingers tangling into my hair.

I close my eyes for a second. The weight of her soothes me. It’s a new feeling for me, having someone here when I get home. Her warmth and the quiet reassurance that she’s here allows the stress of my day to start dissipating.

“It wasn’t great,” I admit, opening my eyes to meet hers. I brush a strand of hair back from her face. “But this helps.”

Her hips shift against me, and I breathe out slowly through my nose, fighting the reflex to flip her onto the couch and have my way with her.

She presses a trail of kisses along my jaw. “Can I help you unwind?”

I huff a quiet laugh and lift her chin with two fingers so she looks at me. “Just you being here does that.”

I nod toward the television over her shoulder. “Watching a tournament?”

She glances back. “Yeah. I already know who wins, but I wanted to see how they played down to the final table.” She tilts her head toward the kitchen. “There’s food in the oven if you’re hungry.”

I rest my hands at her waist, thumbs brushing slowly along her sides.

“I was thinking,” I say, “do you want to go out tonight?”

Her eyes brighten.

“I would love that.” She bounces in my lap, energy lifting. “I’ve been feeling a little cooped up.”

I lean forward, brushing my mouth along the curve of her throat, feeling her pulse beneath my lips.

“Get ready,” I whisper against her skin. “Wear one of your devastatingly sexy dresses.”

She smiles, that sharp, curious edge returning to her eyes.

“Where are we going?”