CHAPTER 31 — Shadows Beneath His Name
Eva woke to the sound of rain tapping softly against the penthouse glass, a rhythm almost too delicate for the storm brewing inside her chest. The morning light was gray, muted, slipping between the curtains like a secret trying to stay hidden. Derek had left before dawn again.
No note.
No message.
Just absence—cold, crisp, and intentional.
She lay still, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the ache settling under her ribs. Lately, Derek's disappearances had become more frequent. His phone calls whispered behind closed doors. His eyes carried exhaustion he refused to admit. And that night—two nights ago—when she'd asked where he'd been… he'd lied.
She'd felt it the way you feel a shiver that doesn't belong to your skin.
She pushed off the sheets and stood, her feet sinking into the soft rug, but her resolve was harder than the floor beneath it.
Today, she would find answers.
Derek's secrets were no longer just shadows around him.
They were circling her too.
---
The Study
Eva wrapped a robe around herself and stepped into the hallway. The penthouse was quiet, the kind of silence heavy with unsaid things. Derek's study door was cracked open—a sign that felt deliberate. Derek never left doors open. Not even by accident.
She hesitated.
If she crossed that room's threshold, she crossed a line—one Derek had drawn not with words, but with the steel edge of his boundaries. But she needed to understand him. She needed to know what she was walking into every time she stepped into his arms.
She pushed the door open.
The study smelled like cedar, leather, and Derek—cool, masculine, controlled. Papers were neatly stacked, but one folder lay open on the desk, almost as if someone had been in a hurry.
Her pulse quickened.
Inside were contracts—ordinary at first glance. Business acquisitions. Corporate reports. But then—
A second set of documents.
Not labeled.
Not printed on Donovan International letterhead.
Different.
These weren't for the company.
These were for him.
Private accounts.
Unregistered subsidiaries.
Funds moving in and out of places she didn't recognize.
And a list of names she'd never seen—each with a number beside it, each number large enough to knock the air out of her lungs.
Millions.
Tens of millions.
Sometimes hundreds.
Her fingers trembled. Derek was wealthy, but this… this wasn't business. This was something darker. Something secret.
Her eyes caught on the last document. A photo clipped to the corner.
A man.
Tall, sharp-eyed, with a scar running from his jaw to his neck.
She'd seen him before.
When?
Her heart stilled.
At the gala.
Watching Derek.
Watching her.
A chill crept up her spine as she read the name.
Luther Kane.
The name felt like a curse.
Why was Derek tracking this man? Why was this man watching them?
Her breathing quickened. She reached for another page—until a sudden vibration cut through the silence.
Derek's phone.
Left on the desk.
That never happened.
Her pulse thudded as she picked it up. The screen flashed with an incoming message from an unknown number.
Only three words:
"She is next."
Eva froze.
She read it once.
Twice.
A third time, as if her mind was refusing to accept the meaning.
She is next.
Cold terror spread through her like poison.
"Who's next?" she whispered to the empty room, even though she already knew the answer.
Her.
It had to be her.
The message disappeared, replaced by a new one.
"Tell Blackwell he can't hide her."
Her blood turned to ice.
Hide her?
Derek knew.
Derek knew someone was after her.
And he hadn't told her.
Her chest tightened with fear, betrayal, and something sharper—rage. Rage at being kept in the dark. Rage at the realization she wasn't just part of Derek's world.
She was now part of his danger.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway.
Eva dropped the phone.
---
Derek
He appeared in the doorway, drenched from the rain, suit dark and clinging to his broad frame. His jaw was set, his shoulders tight. The moment he saw her, something flickered in his eyes—a flash of panic, quickly buried under steel.
"Eva."
Her name sounded like a warning. Or a plea.
She straightened, too shaken to pretend she hadn't seen anything.
"How long have you been standing there?" she asked, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.
Derek's eyes shifted. "Long enough."
His gaze fell to the open files on the desk, the phone, the message. The tension in the room thickened into something suffocating.
"You went through my documents."
"You left the door open," she whispered. "Your phone too."
He stepped closer, rain dripping onto the floor. His presence pulled at her, always magnetic, always overwhelming, but today it felt different—like two storms colliding.
"You shouldn't be in here."
"You shouldn't be keeping secrets that put me in danger."
Derek froze.
She'd never seen him freeze.
For a man who controlled everything, the stillness on his face cracked something inside her.
His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "What exactly did you see?"
Eva swallowed. "Enough to know someone is threatening me. Enough to know you've been hiding things. Enough to know this isn't just about a contract anymore."
Derek's eyes darkened—not with anger, but with fear. Gut-deep, bone-deep fear.
"You weren't supposed to find out like this."
"That someone wants to hurt me?" Her voice shook. "Or that you've been acting like you can protect me from something you won't even explain?"
His jaw clenched, muscle twitching. Rainwater dripped down his temple.
"Eva…" He reached for her hand.
She stepped back.
The hurt that flickered across his face was brief, but real.
"You promised me honesty," she said, her eyes burning. "You said you'd never use me. But you didn't tell me you were being followed. Or watched. Or that your arrangement includes men with scars sending you threats."
He exhaled sharply, hand dragging through his wet hair. "I didn't want you afraid."
"And what am I now?!"
Their voices echoed, sharp and raw.
He stared at her, chest rising with slow, careful breaths—as if he were holding himself together by force.
Finally, he spoke.
"Luther Kane used to work with my father."
Eva blinked.
"This goes back years," Derek continued, voice heavy. "Long before Donovan International. Long before you."
"What does he want?"
Derek's eyes shifted away, as if saying the truth might break something he'd spent a lifetime holding up.
"He wants me ruined," Derek murmured. "And he wants to use you to do it."
Eva's knees weakened.
Her voice cracked. "Why me?"
"Because," he breathed, stepping closer, "you're the first thing in years that matters to me. Really matters. And men like Kane… they destroy what they can't control."
Her heart stopped.
The air between them changed—charged, intimate, painful.
She didn't know what hurt more: that she mattered to him… or that it had put her in danger.
Before she could respond, Derek's phone lit up again on the desk.
Another message.
Eva's breath stuttered. Derek's eyes darkened as he read it.
His hand fisted. His jaw locked. His entire body coiled like a predator ready to strike.
Eva stepped closer, trembling. "What does it say?"
Derek lifted his gaze to hers.
"It says," he whispered, voice lethal, "that Kane isn't finished."
He turned the phone toward her.
"Check your balcony."
Eva's breath left her. She spun to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Rain blurred the glass, streaking down in silver trails. But behind the reflection—
Eva froze.
There was something on the balcony floor.
Small.
Dark.
Wrapped in black fabric.
Fear clawed at her throat.
Derek moved before she could, striding to the balcony, throwing open the door despite the rushing rain. He knelt, lifting the object with a slow, tense movement.
He unwrapped it.
Eva's hand flew to her mouth.
Inside the cloth was a single item.
A photograph.
Of her.
Standing in Derek's penthouse kitchen.
Hair loose.
Wearing one of his shirts.
Smiling at something he'd said.
A moment that was private. Intimate. A moment no one but Derek should have witnessed.
Eva backed away, heart racing. "Derek… how—"
"He was here." Derek's voice was ice. "Inside this building."
"Inside your penthouse?" Her voice cracked, horror rippling through her.
Derek looked up at her then, and something shattered in his eyes—something fierce, protective, terrifying.
"No," he said, stepping inside, rain dripping from his clothes, the photo trembling between his fingers.
"Not my penthouse."
His voice dropped lower, darker.
"He was inside yours."
Eva's breath broke on a soundless gasp.
The room tilted.
Derek dropped the cloth onto the floor and crossed the room in three strides, cupping her face with cold hands, pulling her close, his voice rough with fear he could no longer hide.
"He got inside your apartment, Eva. He walked through your things. He took pictures of you. He left this as a warning."
Her knees nearly buckled.
Derek held her tighter.
"You're not safe there anymore," he whispered, forehead pressing to hers. "You stay with me. Starting now."
Her voice shook. "And if I don't?"
His answer was a growl of raw, unfiltered emotion.
"I will burn this city down before I let anyone touch you."
Eva's breath caught.
Not because of fear.
But because she finally understood:
Derek Blackwell wasn't just hiding secrets.
He was fighting a war.
And now she was in the center of it.