Page 39 of Falling for the Grump Billionaire

“It’s not up for debate, Eva,” he snaps. “This could be dangerous.”

“That’s never stopped me before,” I fire back. “You said it yourself—I’ve found more in a few hours than your team has in weeks. I’m part of this, whether you like it or not.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking,” I mutter, grabbing my coat. “Let’s go.”

The drive to the warehouse is tense, the silence between us heavy with unspoken fears. The city lights fade behind us, replaced by the dark, sprawling industrial district. The warehouse looms ahead, a hulking shadow against the night sky. Adrian is waiting for us near the entrance, his face set in grim determination.

“This is the place,” he says, leading us toward a side door. “Security cameras are down, but we’ve got a heat signature inside. Could be Conrad. Could be someone else.”

Dominic nods, his expression unreadable. “Stay sharp.”

The air inside the warehouse is stale, heavy with dust and the faint scent of oil. The faint hum of machinery echoes through the space, but it feels abandoned—too quiet, too still. My pulse quickens as we move deeper into the building, every shadow and sound setting my nerves on edge.

Adrian stops in front of a metal door, his hand hovering over the handle. “Heat signature’s strongest in here,” he says quietly. “Ready?”

Dominic nods, and Adrian pushes the door open.

The room beyond is small and cluttered, filled with old equipment and dusty furniture. In the center of the space, a laptop sits on a rickety desk, its screen glowing faintly in the darkness. Dominic approaches cautiously, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of movement.

“No one’s here,” Adrian says, his voice low. “But this setup… it’s deliberate.”

I step closer, my gaze fixed on the laptop. The screen displays a single message:

“Welcome to phase two.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I whisper, my stomach twisting.

Dominic doesn’t answer. He’s already at the desk, typing furiously as he tries to access the laptop’s files. The tension in his shoulders is palpable, and I can feel my own nerves unraveling as the seconds tick by.

“Anything?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Encrypted,” he mutters, his jaw tightening. “Whoever set this up knew what they were doing.”

Before I can respond, a faint sound cuts through the silence—a soft click, like the sound of a door closing in the distance. My blood runs cold, and I glance at Dominic, who’s already on high alert.

“Adrian,” Dominic says sharply. “Check the perimeter. Now.”

Adrian nods, his expression grim as he slips out of the room. I stay frozen in place, my heart pounding as the silence stretches on. Dominic moves closer to me, his presence steadying even as my mind races with worst-case scenarios.

“Stay behind me,” he says quietly, his hand resting on the small of my back as he guides me toward the door.

The hallway outside is empty, but the tension in the air is suffocating. Every creak of the floorboards, every flicker of movement in the shadows feels like a threat. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched, that whoever left that message is still here, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

When Adrian returns, his expression is grim. “No sign of anyone, but there’s fresh tire tracks outside. Whoever was here left in a hurry.”

“Too much of a coincidence,” Dominic mutters, his fists clenching at his sides. “They wanted us to find this. They’re leading us somewhere.”

“But where?” I ask, my voice shaking despite my efforts to stay calm.

Dominic doesn’t answer right away. He stares at the laptop, his expression dark and unreadable. Finally, he says, “Wherever it is, we’re going to make damn sure we’re ready.”

The determination in his voice sends a shiver down my spine, but it’s not enough to drown out the fear. Whoever’s behind this is always one step ahead, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re playing right into their hands.

Dominic’s phone buzzes, breaking the silence. He glances at the screen, his expression hardening as he answers. “Adrian,” he says. “What’ve you got?”

Adrian’s voice crackles through the line, tense and urgent. “You’re not going to believe this, but we’ve got a hit on Blackwell. He’s in Chicago.”

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