Page 19 of Silence and Surrender

“Oh please.” Julia leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Maybe before. But in the past month…I saw how he jumped to your defense in yesterday’s board meeting when Harrison questioned your department’s authentication process. That’s not distrust, that’s...” She lifted her eyebrows suggestively.

“That’s him protecting bank interests.” But the memory of his fierce defense made something warm curl and settle in my chest.

“He could have let his team handle it. Instead, he personally spent three hours preparing a detailed response. And then stared at your ass in the elevator after delivering it.” She grinned. “Face it, Isabella. Colton Moreau has a thing for you lately.”

“A thing for making my life difficult, maybe.” I turned back to my work, but the manifests blurred into memories of last night—his hand on my shoulder, his cologne mixing with my perfume.

“You know,” Julia said thoughtfully, “I’ve worked here for five years. Never seen him break a single rule. Never placed a toe out of line. But lately...” She studied me over her own coffee cup. “Lately he’s been different. More intense. More of a wildcard.”

“We’re both just doing our jobs,” I said firmly. “Auditing some irregularities.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Julia stood, her expression softening. “But Isabella? Maybe some ‘irregularities’ are worth exploring. You’ve been alone the entire time I’ve known you. Maybe it’s time for you to open up a bit. But, it’s your life.”

I couldn’t tell her that work had become my shield after my father died. That burying myself in cases and clients meant I didn’t have to face another loss. Dating meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant pain. Every relationship had an expiration date; I’d learned that along the way. It was simpler to focus on what I could control: canvas and brushstrokes.

She left me with that thought, and with memories I couldn’t shake. Colton’s voice in the low light of his office. His promise to keep me safe.

A message popped up on my screen, Rodger requesting an urgent meeting about recent acquisitions. My stomach tightened. More and more, his questions felt pointed, dangerous.

“Miss Delacroix?” Sari appeared in my doorway. “Mr. Moreau asked me to deliver these files personally.” She handed over a thick folder, then hesitated. “He also said to remind you about your promise.”

My promise not to investigate certain leads alone. Not going to Rotterdam. Of course he’d send a messenger rather than come himself after last night.

“Tell Mr. Moreau his concern is noted but unnecessary.” I took the files without looking up.

“He’s in a meeting with the board all morning,” Sari continued. “But he said to call him if you find anything in those files.”

Since when did Colton Moreau ask people to call him? The man usually required everything in writing, and in triplicate. Always a digital paper trail.

I waited until Sari left before opening the folder. Inside, nested between legitimate bank documents, was a handwritten note in Colton’s precise script: “Watch your back with Rodger. Something’s not right.”

The warning made my heart race. Not just because it confirmed my own suspicions about Rodger, but because Colton had risked writing it down.

For me.

“Well, he’s finished up with the board meeting,” Julia said, reappearing with fresh coffee. “Practically lived at the bank since you started that auditing project.”

“He’s dedicated to his job.”

“To you, you mean.” She sat again, ignoring my glare. “I’ve worked with plenty of lawyers, Isabella. None of them transform themselves into James Bond for ‘bank interests.’”

I thought of his changed physique, his new intensity. The way he moved now, like he was preparing for something. “He’s just taking care of himself.”

“Right. And those private combat training sessions are just casual workouts?”

My head snapped up. “What combat training?”

Julia’s smile widened, obviously excited to share gossip that she’d been sitting on. “My brother works at that exclusive gym near Canary Wharf. Says our straight-laced chief counsel started showing up there months ago, training with some American instructor every morning. Quite the transformation from the man who used to consider golf strenuous exercise.”

I stared at the warning note, remembering how steady his hands had been last night. How confident his movements had been lately. How different from the rigid man who’d once relied solely on words and regulations.

“He’s different,” Julia said softly. “Question is, why?”

My phone buzzed again. It was Rodger, growing impatient. The screen showed three missed calls already.

“I have work to do.” I started gathering files, needing to escape this conversation. To think. To stop remembering how safe I’d felt when Colton’s hand brushed mine after we left the client viewing area the other day.

“Isabella.” Julia’s voice turned serious. “Whatever you two are investigating...be careful. People are noticing.”

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