Page 43 of Silence and Surrender

Colton checked the second rack while I examined the first. The vault was large, perhaps forty meters square, with floor-to-ceiling storage systems designed for paintings and sculptures.

“Isabella.” His voice was tight. “The Degas isn’t here either.”

“None of them are.” I moved faster now, checking case after case. “The vault’s nearly empty.”

A sound from outside made us both freeze. Voices in the corridor.

Colton moved silently to the door, peering through the small window. His entire body went rigid.

“Reznikov,” he breathed. “And Ross.”

My blood turned colder than the vault air. What was Rodger doing here at this hour? And with Anton Reznikov of all people?

“They’re coming this way.” Colton’s voice was barely audible.

“We need to—”

The vault door swung shut with a decisive click.

Darkness. Complete, absolute darkness. Just like the cellar. Fear spiraled through my body, constricting my breathing. The memories instantly came crashing back. The smell of wine and stone, my small fists pounding against wood, screaming until my throat was raw.

“Colton?” I hated how my voice shook; hated how weak I sounded.

“Here.” His hand found mine in the black. “Don’t move.”

The emergency lights flickered on, dim blue LED strips that cast everything in ghostly shadows. Outside, voices murmured. The vault’s security panel beeped.

“They’re resetting the access codes,” I whispered, fighting to control my breathing. “We’re locked in.”

“They don’t know we’re here. They’re trying to mask their own footprints.” His fingers tightened on mine when he felt my trembling. “Isabella? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t...” The walls seemed to press closer. “I don’t do well in sealed spaces. Not since I was a child.”

Understanding crossed his face. Then, softly: “Come here.”

Something in his voice—a sweet tenderness I’d never heard from the always-composed Colton Moreau—made my pulse quicken for entirely different reasons. I hesitated for just a moment, professional boundaries battling with panic and something else. Something that had been building between us since that first late night when he’d looked at me across his desk like he wanted to devour me.

When I stepped into his arms, it felt inevitable. His suit jacket was warm from his body heat, his cologne light but distinctly masculine. This close, I could feel the strength in him, not just the physical changes from his training, but something deeper. More fundamental. There was a raw, primal energy that radiated from him, ancient and masculine. It was in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the unwavering intensity of his look that claimed without touching. Something elemental, like earth and fire combined.

“Better?” His voice rumbled through his chest where I was pressed against him, and the sound vibrated straight through to my core.

I nodded, focusing on his heartbeat rather than the walls closing in. His arms tightened, one hand rubbing slow circles on my back. The gesture was oddly intimate for a man who I’d watched pull away countless times when our fingers brushed over documents or our bodies drew too close in elevator rides.

“We should conserve heat,” he said, though his voice had grown rougher. “Sit.”

He guided us to the floor, maneuvering until I was practically in his lap, his suit jacket wrapped around both of us. The position should have felt inappropriate, but instead it felt...right. Like something I’d been waiting for without knowing it. Like all those moments had been leading us here.

His body was solid behind mine, radiating heat and security in equal measure. When had I started noticing the power he contained behind those expensive suits? The way his hands could break concrete in training but touched papers so delicately during meetings? The contrast that made me ache to feel those hands on my skin?

“They’re still out there?” I whispered, as much to distract myself from both our proximity and my claustrophobia as anything else.

“Yes.” His breath stirred my hair, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. “But I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the muffled voices rather than the feel of his hand spanning my waist, the way his chest rose and fell against my back. Through the vault door, I caught fragments about cargo manifests and temperature controls. Then Ross’s voice grew clearer.

“The buyers in Dubai are getting impatient.”

Dubai? I felt Colton tense behind me.

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