Page 198 of Scattered Glitter

Her.

Her fingers keep moving, steady, grounding, until finally, I give in completely, letting sleep take me in her arms.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Novalee

Nicholas’s breathing finally evens out beside me.

I wanted to fuck him into a good sleep, but it seems as though head scratches were just as effective.

His face is softened by his slumber, and he looks so damn handsome. I let my fingers brush his cheek, lingering for a moment. Guilt stirs in my chest, faint but insistent, as I watch him. This was supposed to be a job. Just another mark. I’ve played this game—had sex with random men, got close, took what I needed, and walked away without looking back.

Something about this feels different. I don’t know when it started, maybe under the stars, the way he looked at me or maybe earlier. Maybe it’s the way he’s always made me feel like I could forget everything for a little while.

Like I could be myself with him.

My hand hovers over his, drawn to his warmth, and for a second, I let myself stay there, caught in that moment. Then I pull away, forcing cold determination to settle into place.

This isn’t about me.

I have a job to do, a job bigger than him, bigger than me, bigger than whatever this thing between us could have been.

Sliding out of bed as quietly as I can, I grab my purse from the floor and make my way out of the bedroom. My heartbeat thunders in my ears as I step into the dark hallway and let my eyes adjust to the faint light. Each step feels louder than it should, the sound echoing in my head, but I keep moving.

Veronica’s office has to be somewhere in this maze of a penthouse.

Opening one door after another, I peer inside each room. A bathroom. A guest room. A storage closet. With each wrong room, my nerves tighten, my hands trembling as I close the doors as quietly as possible. Finally, I reach a door at the end of the hall and press my ear against it, straining for any sound inside.

Silence.

I twist the knob and step into a room lined with dark, polished wood and expensive-looking furniture, with a large desk taking up one corner. My breath catches in my throat.

This has to be it.

Pausing near the wall, I pull my phone from my purse and unlock it, fingers trembling as I open the thread with Sylus. The most recent message from him stares back at me:

Don’t forget to think about me.

I swallow hard, my thumb hovering over the screen, then quickly type a response.

I’m in. Starting now.

His text comes almost instantly, the bubble popping up as if he’s been sitting there, waiting.

Good girl. You’ve got this. I’m ready to go.

Crossing to the desk, I quickly scan for her laptop, relief flooding through me when I spot it, open but in sleep mode. I reach into my purse and pull out the USB Sylus gave me, his words echoing in my mind.

“One minute. All I need is one minute.”

My fingers tremble as I try to slide it into the port, but it doesn’t go in.

Of course.

I flip it over and try again. Still nothing. A quiet curse slips from my lips as I flip it back to the original side, and this time it slides in smoothly, the screen flickering to life, and I tense, expecting a password prompt. One does appear briefly before the screen flashes back to black, a quick glitch you’d miss if you weren’t watching intently. The program takes over, bypassing the security exactly as Sylus promised.

I let out a shaky breath, tension coiling in my stomach as I glance around the room, feeling more exposed with every passing second.

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