Prologue
Two years ago,
Rory (18), Gideon (31)
Rubber wheels, seemingly attached to a bicycle, jutted awkwardly from the dense green hedges—light blue, almost mint in color, and glaringly out of place against the manicured chaos of the perimeter of the Kessler’s estate. It’s too bright and stuck out like a sore thumb.
The Mercedes’ tyres crunched against the gravel on its approach to the towering iron gate of Carlton Kessler's estate, nestled deep in the wooded sprawl of upstate New York. The ornate gate stood like a sentinel, wrought iron, anchored to tall red brick walls that stretched into the dense tree line. Ivy clung to the stone like veins, and thick hedges pressed in from all sides.
Gideon's eyes narrowed. Something was off.
His hand moved instinctively to the weapon holstered beneath his jacket. His position, his power among the deadliest force on his planet meant an ambush here wouldn't be unexpected.
His guards, seated in silence among his presence, mirrored the motion, their dominant hands slipping beneath their jackets.
Who would be foolish enough to strike him here, in broad daylight?.
"At ease," he ordered in a deep rumbling baritone.
From the bushes emerged a girl, no more than a shadow at first, then fully visible in the SUV's tinted glare. Light honey hair framed her face, wild and untamed. She pulled the hood of a jacket over her head, clearly trying to make herself smaller and invisible to them.
But there was nothing forgettable about her.
Even in the shade of the tall pines, he caught a clear glimpse, just enough to burn her into his memory.
Emerald eyes, flecked with gold and sapphire, framed by thick, dark lashes. A tall, elegant nose. Pink, plump lips that looked soft even from a distance. And, skin shining like porcelain.
She was simply beautiful.
His vision tunneled, the backdrop fading quietly behind her. She stood bathed in white and gold light. He could only see her, and his heart, once a cold, dark place untouched by love, started to beat.
To bleed.
Warmth surged through his veins, melting the walls he'd built around himself. Even from this distance, with her, his heart, mind body and soul knew it felt right.
Now, she had his full attention.
She dragged the bicycle beside her, its mint-blue frame clinking softly against the gravel. Using the bulk of the SUV as cover, she crept along its side, deliberately avoiding the front gate's security camera.
Gideon watched her curiously like she’s a newly discovered speciman needed to be put under a microscope.
As the iron gates rolled open and the Mercedes moved forward into the estate, the girl kept pace, tugging her bicycle alongside the vehicle, clinging into its shadows.
Gideon's chest rumbled with low laughter as realisation struck. Clever little thing. She used his convoy as a shield, slipping past the estate's security under the cover of his presence.
It was bold and reckless, but thoroughly entertaining.
That was a first. Oh the irony...
Gideon Torres was not a man others used. He was the one who pulled strings, who bent people to his will. A tyrant cloaked in tailored suits and bloodstained power. He took what he wanted without apology and without hesitation.
Empires whispered his name. Governments turned a blind eye. Nations bowed, not out of respect, but fear. He didn't just profit from war, he helped orchestrate it, supplying weapons to both sides and watching the world burn from his throne.
And now, a girl with honey-blonde curls had used him to slip through Kessler's gate. An innocent bit of mischief, he was sure of it. If she had any idea what hid behind the tinted glass, she’d be running for the hills.
He smiled to himself.
What an interesting little thing.
This day had just gotten better..
The Mercedes halted in the courtyard and the girl had slipped behind it. She hopped on her bike, peddling towards the two door garage on the other side of the estate.
She disappeared behind the building but her presence remained etched into his memory.
His eyes refused to be torn away from where she disappeared in hopes to catch a glimpse of her again.
"Sebastian," he said, "Find out who that girl is and what connection she has to our old friend Carlton."
Speak of the devil.
Gideon spotted the man waiting on the cobbled steps, a wide, delightful grin already plastered across his face. Carlton Kessler, his broker, the one who handled the majority of his contracts across North America and Europe.
He was short, with a round belly that strained against his vest and an unfortunate wart perched above his left eyebrow. His cheeks were plump and ink-pink, and Gideon could already picture the awful jokes the man was going to tell.
This was going to be a long meeting.
There were other brokers whom were more polished and more tolerable but none as effective.
Beneath the awkward charm and forced humor, Carlton was sharp. Cunning. A man who knew how to navigate the shadows of power with a smile and a handshake.
He got the job done.
And in Gideon's world, that was the only thing that mattered.
He stepped out of the Mercedes, the door shutting with a heavy thud behind him. As he buttoned his suit jacket and made his way toward the entrance, his gaze drifted, unwilling, almost out of desperation, back to the spot where she'd vanished.
He couldn't tear his eyes away.
He wanted to see her again. To breathe the same air she had touched. Because, right now, the hole in his chest felt hollow in her absence.
Who was she?
And what kind of spell had she cast on him with nothing more than her presence?
Not edited.
