"He did." Her smile softens, the tension around her eyes easing into something gentler, and for a moment she looks at the bookshelves surrounding us with something like wonder. Her fingers trail reverently along the spine of a nearby volume, a caress so tender it borders on intimate. I watch her chest rise with a deep, satisfied breath, as if she's trying to inhale the reality of this place, commit it to memory through scent alone. Then her eyes sharpen, snapping back to me with the kind of perception that makes her dangerous in her own right. One brow arches slightly, and I recognize the look. She's spotted weakness and is coming in for the kill. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something."
"Oh?" I shift my weight, angling my body toward the window, a subtle retreat she doesn't miss if the slight narrowing of her eyes is any indication.
"Sienna." The name hangs in the air between us like smoke from an extinguished candle. Drake's former assistant, who helped me as well, vanished without a trace a few weeks ago undercircumstances none of us have fully explained. Katriana's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, a flash of something, guilt maybe, or concern, flickering across her features before she smooths it away. "You need a replacement."
I lift a shoulder in disagreement, rolling the empty champagne flute between my fingers. "I'm handling things fine on my own."
"Mm-hmm. Yeah. No you're not. The guys might not say anything, but you're drowning." Her tone is matter-of-fact, not unkind, her head tilting slightly as she studies my face with unsettling accuracy. Her gaze traces the shadows I know live beneath my eyes, the tension I can feel carved into the lines around my mouth.
"I can see it written all over your face and the way you've been snapping at everyone who crosses your path. You need help, Luca. Let me help you."
I drag a hand down my face, the scrape of my beard against my palm grounding me. "You're the second person who's told me I look like shit today."
She presses a light touch to my elbow, her fingers warm even through the fabric of my jacket. The contact is brief but deliberate, a gentle anchor meant to pull me out of the spiral she can clearly see me circling. "Stop it. The whole pity party born out of stubbornness is kinda cute, but it's getting irritating too." Her lips quirk into a half-smile, softening the admonishment, but her eyes remain serious. Steady.
I love her directness. It's one of the reasons Drake fell so hard for her and why the men and I would give our lives to protect her. Well, that and she's made it a point to care about each one of us. How can you not give that level of caring back? We've becomefamily and that is why she feels comfortable pushing me on this topic, I guess.
I consider arguing, but she's not wrong. The administrative burden of running intelligence operations for the Syndicate while also managing Redthorne's legitimate business interests has been crushing me slowly for weeks. I just haven't cared enough to do anything about it.
"What did you have in mind?"
"Glad you asked. She's a who, actually. A friend of a friend." Katriana sips her champagne, watching me over the rim, her narrowed gaze calculating in a way that reminds me she's not just Drake's pretty fiancée, she's just as much of a shark as any one of us.
"Okay."
"I'm going to keep this real so you know what you are dealing with."
"I wouldn't expect anything else."
Her smile is sweet but I've learned to not be caught off guard by it the hard way. Last time I underestimated that smile, I ended up agreeing to three things I had no intention of doing.
"Luna Moone knows someone who's trying to get out from under her father's thumb. She has a business degree, communications training, and she's smart enough to handle whatever you throw at her. You could use her help."
Luna Moone. The name from Ilona's membership file at Scarlet Thorn. The friend who helped her slip into the club undetected. My pulse kicks up a notch, but I keep my expression neutral.
"Got a name for me?" I think I already know the answer, but I have to ask.
Katriana scoffs as if I've insulted her. "Of course I do. Her name is Ilona."
The floor drops out from under me.
I don't move. Don't breathe. Don't do anything that might betray the way my heart has just stopped beating and restarted in a completely different rhythm. The champagne glass suddenly feels impossibly heavy in my hand, the cold condensation dripping down my fingers like ice water.
Ilona. Trying to get out from under her father's thumb.
It can't be coincidence. Fate isn't that kind. But she could be that cruel.
"Give her my number." The words come out steady, which is a fucking miracle. "I'll set up an interview for Monday."
Katriana’s expression morphs from determination to surprise. "Just like that?" Her brows lift, disappearing beneath the soft waves of her brown hair. "You're not going to ask about any of her qualifications? Her references?"
"You said your friend Luna vouches for her?"
Katriana nods. "I've known Luna for a few years. She's good people to have when you want to…accomplish impossible things."
I cock a brow. "I'll ask for that story later but for now, you trust her, I trust her. That's enough for me." The universe just handed me a second chance. I'm not letting it slip away.
I drain my champagne in one long swallow, the bubbles burning my throat, using the motion to hide the trembling in my hands. "What's her last name?" I already know, but damn it I need to hear it. The odds of this friend of a friend not being my Ilona is slim to none, but my heart needs to confirm out of the five thousand Ilonas in this city, she’s the one.