Chapter 8
Time seemed to freeze in the confined space of the executive elevator. Damian’s words – hung in the air between them, heavy with accusation and something darker, more dangerous. His body caged her against the polished steel wall, one hand still braced beside her head while the other ghosted along her jaw in a touch that was both threatening and caress.
The familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around her like a noose, bringing back vivid flashes of their last night together – his hands on her throat, the betrayal in his eyes, the cold determination as he squeezed tighter. Victoria’s heart hammered against her ribs as past and present collided.
“I…” she forced her voice to remain steady, even as panic clawed at her throat. The baby moved again, stronger this time, and she used the sensation to center herself. “Mr. Blackwood, this is highly inappropriate.”
His fingers traced the line of her cheekbone, the touch achingly familiar. “Is it? There’s something about you, Victoria Cross – if that’s even your name. Something that’s been driving me mad since the moment you walked into my company.” His eyes dropped to her lips, then lower, lingering on the barely noticeable curve of her abdomen. “Something… hauntingly familiar.”
Using every ounce of training she’d received, Victoria ducked under his arm in one fluid movement, creating crucial distance between them. “I don’t know what happened with your wife,” she said, injecting ice into her tone. “But I suggest you remember your engagement to Ms. Kane before you make any more… questionable moves.”
She hit the emergency stop button again, releasing the elevator. The moment the doors opened, she forced herself to walk out with measured steps, her heels clicking against the marble floor in a steady rhythm that belied her internal chaos.
The executive floor ladies’ room had always been her sanctuary – Italian marble, soft lighting, and complete privacy. Now she barely made it through the door before her legs gave out. Her hands shook violently as she fumbled with her phone, sending the emergency signal to Elena.
The panic attack hit in full force. Her vision tunneled, breath coming in short gasps as the walls seemed to close in. Everything felt too bright, too loud, too much. Her grandmother’s voice echoed in her mind: “Fear is a weapon – either yours or theirs. Choose which.”
Elena burst in moments later, immediately activating a device to scramble any surveillance. “Talk to me,” she commanded, pressing a cold compress to Victoria’s neck.
“He knows,” Victoria gasped, her perfectly manicured nails digging into her palms. “Somehow he knows – my scent, Elena. Of all the things… The one detail we couldn’t change.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “And the baby… God, the baby moved when he was close. As if it knew him.”
“Breathe,” Elena ordered, kneeling beside her. “Deep breaths. Focus on my voice. He doesn’t know anything. He just suspects something’s familiar. That’s why we planned for this, why we have contingencies.”
Victoria leaned against the cool marble, forcing air into her lungs. One hand pressed against her abdomen, feeling the flutter of movement that had betrayed her. “The timing… It’s too soon. We’re not ready.”
“We’re never ready for everything,” Elena replied, helping her to her feet. “But you’re Kane. And Kanes don’t break – they adapt.”
Back at her desk twenty minutes later, perfect makeup restored and mask firmly in place, Victoria threw herself into the financial records she’d been secretly analyzing. The panic of the elevator encounter transformed into cold determination as patterns began emerging from the data.
“Look at this,” she murmured to Elena, who stood guard under the pretense of reviewing reports. Her finger traced a complex series of transactions. “The Lee Technology acquisition wasn’t just about destroying old alliances. They’re using it to launder money through a network of offshore accounts.”
The numbers told a story of systematic corruption. Funds moved through shell companies, disappeared into tax havens, and emerged cleaned in legitimate-looking investments. But there was something else – a pattern that seemed hauntingly familiar.
“These account structures,” Victoria highlighted a series of transactions, “they’re almost identical to ones my grandmother flagged years ago. In her private files, the ones only family could access. But these are recent – within the last three months.”
Elena leaned closer, examining the data. “Someone’s using her old investigation as a template. But who would have access to —”
A crash from the hallway interrupted them. Victoria looked up to see a maintenance cart hurtling toward her glass-walled office, its wheels spinning at an impossible speed. She had barely registered the danger when strong arms yanked her aside, pulling her away from her desk seconds before the cart shattered the glass partition.
She found herself pressed against Damian’s chest, his heart thundering under her palm as he shielded her from the falling glass. The position was achingly familiar – how many times had he held her like this before? But now each point of contact felt like a brand, dangerous and electric.
“Are you alright?” he demanded, his voice rough with what sounded like genuine concern. His hands moved over her, checking for injuries in a way that sent unwanted heat through her body. “That cart was secured. Someone removed the brake.”
“I’m fine,” Victoria managed, trying to step back, but his grip tightened almost imperceptibly. His cologne enveloped her, bringing unwanted memories of passionate nights and tender moments – all lies, she reminded herself fiercely.
“This isn’t the first incident,” he said quietly, his eyes intense as they searched her face. “The coffee machine in the break room yesterday – it exploded minutes after you left. The loose wiring in your office lamp last week. Someone’s targeting you.”
Victoria’s mind raced. She’d assumed Selena was behind the “accidents,” but Damian’s expression suggested something else entirely. His thumb brushed glass dust from her cheek, the gesture intimate enough to make her breath catch.
“You’ve been watching me,” she accused softly, aware of how close they still stood, of his hand still resting possessively on her lower back.
“Something about you feels… important.” His voice dropped lower, meant only for her ears. “And I’ve learned to trust my instincts about important things.” His other hand came up to her face, fingers tracing her jaw in a way that was both threatening and caress. “Like how you flinch slightly whenever I touch your neck. Or how your hand keeps going to your stomach when you think no one’s watching.”
The baby chose that moment to move sharply, making Victoria gasp. Damian’s eyes darkened at the sound, his grip tightening fractionally. Before he could pursue that dangerous line of thought, security arrived, forcing them to separate.
Throughout the rest of the day, more incidents followed. A loose carpet on the stairs that nearly sent her tumbling – if Damian hadn’t caught her arm, pulling her against him with perhaps more force than necessary. A car that almost hit her in the parking garage, swerving away at the last second as Damian yanked her back, his body curving protectively around hers.
Each rescue brought them into closer proximity, each touch charged with dangerous electricity. It was like dancing on the edge of a blade, never knowing if the next moment would bring discovery or death.
By evening, Victoria’s nerves were raw. She’d uncovered more evidence of financial manipulation, each discovery pointing to a conspiracy larger than she’d imagined. The money trails led through a complex web of offshore accounts, many using structures that seemed lifted directly from her grandmother’s private files.
“These transactions,” she showed Elena, “they’re using the exact same shell company names my grandmother documented in her investigation twenty years ago. Names only family would know about.”
“Could Selena have accessed the files?” Elena suggested, but Victoria shook her head.
“The files were blood-locked – biometric security keyed to Kane DNA. I couldn’t even access them until after my sixteenth birthday when grandmother officially recognized me as her heir.”
The implications sent a chill down her spine. Someone with intimate knowledge of Kane family secrets was involved – someone who’d had access long before Damian entered the picture.
The drive home to her secure apartment was tense, every shadow potentially hiding another threat. Her security system showed no breaches when she entered, but something felt off. The air held a different quality, as if someone had recently been there despite leaving no trace.
She found the note on her bedroom pillow – expensive cream paper, handwriting that made her blood run cold:
“Leave now or history repeats itself.”
