Page 11 of Secrets in the Dark

His hand rose to cup my cheek, thumb brushing lightly across my lower lip. The touch sent electricity cascading through me, awakening sensations I'd forgotten existed. I leaned into his palm, pulse thundering in my ears.

"Nova?" Valentina's voice shattered the moment. "You down here? We need to reset for the finale!"

Roman stepped back immediately, professional distance reinstated between one heartbeat and the next. The transition was so smooth, so complete, that it only heightened my curiosity—and my arousal.

"You should go," he said, voice low. "Wouldn't want to keep the audience waiting."

"There is no audience," I reminded him. "Just empty seats and shadows."

Something like concern flickered across his features. "No seat is ever truly empty in this place, Nova. Don’t trust what you think you see. Remember that."

The cryptic warning raised goosebumps along my arms, but before I could question him further, the heavy clatter of approaching footsteps forced another retreat.

"There you are!" Val exclaimed, rounding the corner with a flurry of scarlet cape. She paused, taking in Roman's presence with raised eyebrows. "Mr. King. Interesting choice of break location."

"Just passing through," he said smoothly. "Your assistant was kind enough to point me toward the employee exit."

Val's skeptical look made it clear she didn't believe him for a second, but she merely shrugged. "Then we won't keep you. Nova, we need to reset. The doves are getting restless."

I followed her back toward the stage, acutely aware of Roman's eyes on me as we departed. The almost-kiss lingered on my skin like a promise—or a threat. I couldn't decide which was more dangerous.

The remainder of rehearsal passed without incident, though my concentration remained fractured. Every shadow in the wings seemed to hold potential watchers. Every unexpected sound made me flinch. By the time Val called the final cut, my nerves were stretched to breaking.

"You did well," she assured me as we walked backstage. "Tomorrow we add the live audience. Just remember—"

"They're watching my hands, not my face," I finished.

Val smiled. "Quick study. I daresay you'll survive yet. At least, I’m betting on it."

After she left, I made a final trip to my dressing room to collect my things. The confrontation with Roman had temporarily overshadowed my stalker fears, but as I approached my door, anxiety resurfaced. Would another rose be waiting? Another note with details that proved I was never truly alone?

The room appeared untouched, exactly as I'd left it. Relief washed through me as I gathered my bag and street clothes. Perhaps I'd earned a reprieve, however brief.

My phone—my real phone, not the burner—chimed with a message notification as I headed for the exit.

Unknown number. One attachment.

I hesitated before opening it, dread pooling in my stomach.

The photo loaded: me on stage, arms extended in the levitation pose from tonight's rehearsal. The image had been taken from the back of the theater. The timestamp showed it had been captured less than thirty minutes ago.

A text followed:Beautiful performance, Nova. I can't wait for our private show.

I nearly dropped the phone, ice replacing the blood in my veins. He hadn't just been watching. He'd been photographing. Documenting. Getting closer.

As panic threatened to overwhelm me, Roman's warning echoed in my mind:No seat is ever truly empty in this place.

How right he was. And how terrifying to realize that in a place built on illusion and deception, I couldn't even trust the darkness to hide me.

Chapter Four

Roman

The facial recognition software crawled at a glacier's pace.

I tapped an impatient rhythm on my laptop's edge as the program analyzed the grainy still frame I'd captured from the security feed. The snake tattoo on the man's ring finger filled the screen, the algorithm methodically comparing it against known markings in the LVMPD database.

Three a.m. in my cramped staff quarters wasn't ideal for intelligence work, but timing rarely respected convenience in undercover operations. The room itself barely qualified as living space—a twin bed, kitchenette, desk wedged against the window overlooking the employee parking lot—but it served its purpose. Temporary. Functional. Secure.

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