Page 31 of Secrets in the Dark

"We?" Roman's eyebrow arched again.

"I saw how you handled my panic attack. The breathing technique, the calm under pressure. You've had training." I leaned forward. "I don't know who you really are, Roman, and you don't know who I am, but I think we're both very good at what we do."

A faint smile touched his lips. "That's an understatement."

"Then help me. Just for tomorrow night. We set a trap, catch him in whatever act he's planning, and let security handle the rest."

Roman was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. I could almost see the internal debate playing across his features—weighing risks, calculating angles, considering contingencies.

"What exactly did you have in mind?" he finally asked.

I outlined the plan forming since my elevator confrontation. "I'll perform as scheduled. Val's already addedextra flash powder to the finale—she thinks it's just a precaution after the lighting rig incident. If Tommy makes a move, I'll have multiple escape routes built into the performance. But I need eyes on him from the audience."

"Front row is VIP seating," Roman noted. "I can arrange to be nearby. High-limit dealers often accompany special clients to the shows."

"Perfect. We'll need a way to communicate." I hesitated, then added, "Val has wireless earpieces for the performance. I could get you one."

He nodded. "Good. If I spot anything suspicious, I can warn you immediately."

"I'll have flash powder, the quick-release corset, and the trapdoor access beneath the stage," I continued. "Val's been drilling me on all of them."

"It's still dangerous," Roman warned. "Tommy Lace isn't working alone. He's got connections throughout the Jade Petal."

"Including security," I guessed, remembering Enzo's calculating eyes at the emergency meeting.

"Especially security," Roman confirmed. "Trust no one except Val and possibly Riley."

"And you?" I challenged softly.

His eyes met mine, the intensity of his gaze almost physical. "And me."

The moment stretched between us, charged with unspoken questions and the memory of skin against skin. Whatever lies existed between us, whatever secrets we kept, there was also a thread of genuine connection at the core, beneath all the deceptions. It was what I was holding onto, the only thing that could possibly get me through this alive.

"Tomorrow, then," I said, breaking the silence. "I'll have Val set up the extra flash charges and prepare the emergency protocols. You arrange to be near the VIP section."

Roman nodded, his expression shifting to something harder, more focused. "I'll be there. No matter what happens, Nova, remember—"

My phone buzzed, interrupting whatever he had been about to say. I glanced down, seeing Miles Thatcher's encrypted email address on the notification.

"I need to take this," I said, rising from the table.

Roman caught my wrist as I turned to leave. "Be careful. Every minute between now and tomorrow night is a vulnerability."

His concern seemed genuine, the heat of his fingers against my pulse point a reminder of our shared intimacy. I nodded once before pulling away.

Back in my dressing room, I opened Miles's encrypted email. A single scanned document was attached, secured behind multiple password prompts. The brief message read only:Confirmation of motivation. Take precautions.

The attachment was a court transcript—the same one I'd found online, but with one crucial addition. A handwritten note in the margin beside my name, in what appeared to be Vincent Licata's handwriting:Marshall woman found ledger. T—handle after verdict.

The coldness of the instruction, the casual ordering of what was clearly intended to be my elimination, sent a chill through me. This wasn't just revenge conceived after his conviction. This was premeditated. Vincent had instructed Tommy to "handle" me while he was still on trial, anticipating the possibility of his own conviction.

For over a year, Tommy Lace had been planning my destruction.

The knowledge should have terrified me further. Instead, a strange calm descended, replacing fear with crystalline resolve. Tomorrow night wasn't just a performance—it was a confrontation that had been inevitable since the moment I discovered Vincent Licata's shadow ledger.

I closed the email and began my preparations. No more running. No more hiding behind the Nova persona. Tomorrow, Celia Marshall would face Tommy Lace directly.

And only one of us would walk away.

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