Zoe
His lips are on mine and the world falls away, the parking garage, the fear, the weight of everything I have been carrying since I walked into his office, all of it disappears and there is only him, his mouth warm and demanding, his hand cupping my face like I am something fragile, something worth holding. I should pull back, I know I should pull back, because this is not real, this is a performance for the cameras, for Evelyn, for the lie we are both telling. But when his tongue brushes against my lips, when his other hand comes up to tangle in my hair, when he pulls me closer and I feel the hard line of his body against mine, I forget that I am supposed to be pretending.
I kiss him back, my fingers gripping his jacket, pulling him closer, and I hear a sound, something between a gasp and a moan, and I realize it came from me. He makes a sound too, low and rough, and his arms wrap around my waist and he backs me against the wall and I let him, I want him to, I want to feel his weight pressing into me, I want to forget that I am Lena Madaki, the liar, the weapon, the woman who sold herself to save her mother. I want to be just Zoe, the woman in his arms, the woman he kisses like she is the only thing keeping him alive.
But then he pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breath coming fast, his chest rising and falling against my own, and I open my eyes and I see something in his face that I have not seen before, something raw and open and terrified. "The camera," he says, and his voice is rough, and I remember, I remember why we are here, why I am in his arms, why his lips are swollen and his hands are shaking. I turn my head and I see the small lens in the corner of the room, the one Evelyn's people planted, the one that has been watching us this whole time.
I pull away from him, my legs unsteady, my heart pounding, and I press my hand against my chest and I try to breathe, trying to find the steel I have been holding onto since I walked into his office. "She has what she wants," I say, and my voice is steadier than I feel.
He looks at me for a long moment, and I see the mask slide back into place, the cold, controlled man who sat behind his desk and told me he knew who I was. But I saw underneath, just for a moment, and I know that what happened between us was not a performance, not for him, and not for me.
"She will want more," he says, and he walks to the window and stands with his back to me, the city spread out below him, and I watch the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands are clenched at his sides. "She will want the file. Your mother's life depends on it."
I think about my mother, about the private wing at Westbrook, about the treatments that started today. I think about the twelve million dollars that bought her life and sold mine in the same transaction. I think about the man standing at the window, the man who gave me back something I thought I had lost forever, and I know that I cannot stop now, cannot turn back, cannot let Evelyn win.
"I will get her the file," I say, and he turns, his eyes dark and unreadable. "I will give her what she wants. And when she thinks she has won, we will destroy her."
He walks toward me, and he stops close enough that I can feel the heat of him, close enough that I have to tilt my head up to meet his eyes. "We," he says, and his voice is low, almost a whisper. "You said we did."
I do not know what to say to that, because I did not mean to say we, I meant to say you, I meant to remind myself that this is his war, his revenge, his father's memory. But the word came out before I could stop it, and now it hangs in the air between us, and I see something flicker in his eyes, something that looks like hope or hunger or the beginning of something I am not ready to name.
"I should go," I say, and I step back, putting distance between us, trying to find the walls I built so carefully, the walls he keeps breaking down with a look, a touch, a kiss that was supposed to be a lie. "I need to see my mother. I need to tell her that everything is going to be okay."
He nods, and he walks to his desk and picks up a piece of paper, something he wrote while I was lost in the taste of him, and he hands it to me. "This is the file Evelyn wants," he says. "Old records, nothing incriminating, but enough to keep her satisfied for another week. You will give it to her tonight. And then you will come back here, and we will plan the next move."
I take the paper from him, and our fingers brush, and this time I do not pull away, and neither does he. We stand there for a moment, his skin against mine, and I feel something pass between us, something I do not have words for, something that makes my chest tight and my throat closed and my eyes sting with tears I refuse to let fall.
"Zoe," he says, and I look up, and his face is different now, softer, the mask gone, the man underneath looking at me like I am the only thing in the room. "Be careful tonight. Evelyn is not patient. If she suspects you are playing her, she will move against you. Against your mother."
"I know," I say, and I pull my hand away, and I walk to the door and I open it and I step out into the hallway, and I do not look back because if I look back I will see him standing there, and I will want to stay, and I cannot stay, I cannot let myself want anything more than my mother's life, because wanting more is dangerous, wanting more is how people like me get destroyed.
The elevator takes me down, and I watch the floors tick by, and I think about his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, the way he said we like it meant something. I step out into the lobby and the afternoon light is too bright, too warm, and I walk toward the doors and I see the man again, the one who was watching me before, and he looks at me and smiles, and I know that he saw everything, that Evelyn saw everything, that the kiss is already being delivered to her like a weapon we handed her ourselves.
I walk out into the street and I pull out my phone and I type a message to Evelyn, my fingers steady even though my hands are shaking. I have the second file. And something else. Something you will want to see.
She replies before I reach the corner, and her words are short and cold and satisfied. I saw. Meet me tonight. Same place. Do not disappoint me.
I put the phone in my pocket and I kept walking, and I did not let myself think about the taste of his lips, the warmth of his hands, the way he looked at me like I was something precious. I think about my mother, about the treatments, about the life I am fighting to give her. I think about the war I have chosen, the man I am fighting beside, the kiss that was supposed to be a lie and was not, and I know that I am already in too deep, and there is no way out except forward.