Page 14 of Falling for the Grump Billionaire

My fingers hover over the keyboard as I consider my next move. Eva’s digging into something far bigger than she realizes. Something that could get her killed. And if she’s connected to these leaks—intentionally or not—I need to know before it spirals further out of control.

Later that evening, I park my car a few blocks from her apartment building. It’s modest, tucked away on a quiet street that speaks more of budget-conscious practicality than reckless ambition. The lights in her window glow softly against the evening sky.

Guilt flickers in my chest. What I’m about to do feels invasive. But I push the thought aside. This isn’t about her—it’s about protecting everything I’ve built.

She leaves the building a little after seven, dressed casually in a leather jacket and jeans, her bag slung over one shoulder. I watch from the shadows as she hails a cab, then follow at a safe distance, blending into the stream of evening traffic.

Her cab weaves through the city, finally stopping in front of a nondescript building downtown. I park a block away and watch as she disappears inside.

Minutes tick by. My patience wears thin as I wait for her to reappear. Through the frosted windows, I catch glimpses of her silhouette. She’s leaning forward, her gestures animated, her posture stiff. Questioning someone. Pushing for answers.

When she steps back onto the street, her movements are brisk, her shoulders tense. Whatever happened inside left her rattled. She hails another cab, and I follow once more.

This time, the cab stops outside an upscale apartment complex. I park nearby, my instincts on high alert. She disappears inside, the doorman letting her through without a second glance.

For the first time tonight, I hesitate. Following her into a building like this isn’t just crossing a line—it’s erasing it. But something about her urgency keeps me rooted in place. She’s chasing something.

When she finally emerges, it’s nearly midnight. Her expression is tight, her stride purposeful. She’s holding something in her bag, clutching it like it holds the answers to everything she’s been searching for.

As her cab disappears into the night, I linger in my car, my thoughts racing.

Back in my office, I pour a glass of whiskey and settle behind my desk. The surveillance footage from earlier loads on my screen.

The grainy feed shows Eva sitting at a corner table, leaning forward as she speaks to a man whose face is partially obscured. My stomach tightens. I recognize him instantly: James Heller.

Heller’s exit from Kane Enterprises was messy—paranoia, unfounded accusations, a trail of burned bridges. I zoom in, watching as he hands something to Eva—a folder. She flips through its contents, her expression sharpening with each page.

I pause the video. Whatever Heller gave her, it’s significant.

The email lands in my inbox at 2:00 a.m., its subject line chilling in its simplicity:

“Your empire is crumbling, Kane. Time to watch it burn.”

Attached is a single image: Eva leaving the bar.

The message is clear. They’re not just watching me—they’re watching her, too.

I set the glass down, my resolve hardening. Eva Stone may be reckless, but she’s also smart. Resourceful. And if I can use that to my advantage, she might be the key to exposing who’s behind this.

But first, I need to keep her alive.

The photograph in the email blurs slightly as I stare at it, the edges of the image glowing faintly on my screen. Eva is walking out of the bar, her posture rigid, the bag on her shoulder slung like armor. Whoever took this picture was close enough to see the determination in her stride. Too close.

I set the glass of whiskey down, its weight suddenly clumsy in my hand. The familiar bitterness of the drink doesn’t cut through the tension coiling tighter in my chest. This isn’t just a game of corporate sabotage anymore. This is calculated. Precise. Personal.

My phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up with Adrian’s name.

“What now?” I ask, my voice clipped.

“There’s more,” Adrian says, his tone grim. “The email you just received—its origin was masked, routed through multiple layers of encryption. But we managed to trace one of the relay points to a server in Eastern Europe. The same server was flagged in a previous attack on our Dallas data center.”

My jaw tightens. “So, whoever sent this is connected to the breaches.”

“Likely,” Adrian confirms. “But there’s another complication. We’ve intercepted chatter suggesting Eva Stone is being watched by more than just us. Someone’s flagged her as a person of interest.”

“Who?” I demand.

“We’re still working on that. But the pattern matches what we’ve seen before—this isn’t just about you or Kane Enterprises. They’re using her to get closer to us.”

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