Page 524 of Rage

“Call it intuition.” He pauses, his eyes searching mine. “Be careful where you tread, Wynter.”

“Is that a warning?”

“Consider it friendly advice.”

I step closer, the distance between us shrinking. “Why do you care?”

His jaw tightens ever so slightly. “Maybe I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Or maybe you’re trying to protect your own interests.”

He smiles faintly. “Believe what you will.”

Without thinking, I reach out and place a hand on his arm. The contact sends a jolt through me. “What aren’t you telling me?”

For a moment, vulnerability flashes across his features. “Some truths are more dangerous than lies.”

Before I can respond, he leans in, his lips brushing softly against mine. The world seems to halt, and the only sensation is the warmth and softness of his kiss. It’s brief but filled with an intensity that leaves me breathless.

My hand is mid-air and reared back, ready to strike, when he grips my arm around the wrist. He pulls me closer to him while turning my arm so it’s behind me along with his. My fist bunches and pounds into his chest. His very hard, muscular chest.

He leans down to my height and takes my lips again, this time much more forcibly. His tongue prods at my lips for entrance, and I grant him that. I taste expensive champagne on his tongue as he twirls his around mine with expert precision. He grips my ass in one of his large hands after releasing his hold on my wrist. While pulling me closer, he lifts me off the ground enough that even in the heels I’m wearing, I can barely touch it with my toes.

He pulls back, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and longing. “Goodnight, Wynter.”

Before I can process what’s happened, he’s gone, disappearing through the terrace doors and back into the crowd.

My fingertips touch my lips, still tingling from the unexpected kiss. Confusion and desire swirl within me, complicating everything.

What does he know?

Chapter Six

Iwake the next morning to a flood of emotions. Last night’s encounter with Romello has thrown me off balance. Part of me wants to believe there’s more to him—that perhaps he’s not the villain I imagine. The other part of me thinks he’s trying to distract me from getting the information I want.

Determined to find answers, I dive back into my investigation. At a local café, the aroma of freshly baked pastries mingles with the rich scent of coffee. I spread out my notes, and the soft murmur of patrons provides a comforting backdrop.

As I sift through the documents, a particular file catches my eye—an internal memo with Romello’s signature. My eyes scan the lines, each word sinking like a stone in my stomach.

“Initiate Project Eclipse. All research and prototypes related to the contraceptive drug are to be terminated effective immediately. Ensure all data is secured and personnel are reassigned.”

Staring at the page, I feel a sense of disbelief giving way to a crushing sense of betrayal. He’s been orchestrating the suppression all along.

The café suddenly feels stifling. I gather my things hastily, needing fresh air. I shove everything into my messenger baghaphazardly, with crumpled pages and all. Outside, the city buzzes around me, oblivious to my turmoil. My world is spinning with rage. I want to turn green and smash everything within sight.

My phone rings—it’s Mia. I know it before looking because I have our favorite song set as her ringtone. This month it’s “Rain” by that masked man that has the world guessing his real identity. I wait until the beat drops then answer the call.

“Hey, are we still on for lunch?” she asks brightly.

I swallow hard. “Actually, something’s come up. Can we raincheck?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just work stuff.”

“All right, but don’t overwork yourself,” she chides gently.

“Talk soon.”

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