Kyle pulled up to the wrought-iron gates of the estate, the engine of his sedan idling softly as armed guards in crisp black suits eyed him through the tinted windows. The place sprawled like a fortress disguised as luxuryâhigh stone walls topped with razor wire, floodlights sweeping the manicured lawns, and what looked like sniper nests perched on the rooftops. Someone might mistake it for a military officialâs retreat, complete with helipad and armored vehicles parked discreetly in the distance. Kyleâs grip tightened on the wheel. How many such strongholds did Cleopatra own? This wasnât her main mansion; it felt like a backup lair, one of many in her web of hidden assets. He flashed the code Isabeau had texted him, and the gates swung open with a hydraulic whisper.
A guard escorted him inside, the manâs hand never straying far from his holstered pistol. The foyer gleamed with marble floors and crystal chandeliers, but the air hummed with securityâcameras in every corner, subtle alarms blinking red. Kyleâs pulse quickened; this wasnât a casual meet. As they approached a set of double doors leading to a private dining room, he braced for Isabeau. But when the doors parted, revealing a long oak table set for two under soft ambient lighting, it wasnât the French mafia head waiting. It was Cleopatra, lounging at the far end in a simple white robe, her dark hair damp and loose around her shoulders.
Kyle froze mid-step, the guard melting back into the shadows. Cleopatra looked up, her lips curving into a pleased smile that didnât reach her calculating eyes.
"Kyle. You came." She set down a glass of red wine, gesturing to the seat across from her.
"Iâm glad you took me up on the offer. Though I have to admit, I didnât expect you so soon," Cleopatra admitted.
He moved forward cautiously, lowering himself into the chair. The table held platters of fresh fruit, cheeses, and artisanal breadâsimple, elegant, like she hosted unexpected guests often.
"This isnât what I expected," Kyle said, scanning the room for exits.
"How many places like this do you have? It looks like a presidentâs bunker," Kyle couldnât help but ask her this all important question.
She chuckled softly, leaning back in her chair with an arrogant smirk, looking right at Kyle.
"Enough to stay ahead. Power demands options." Cleopatra boasted. The estateâs guards patrolled outside the windows, their silhouettes visible against the twilight. It screamed fortified wealth, not just a home but a command center. Kyle wondered if government ties explained the setupâbribes, alliances, or sheer influence making it untouchable. But he was beginning to understand why Nakamura was more cautious around her than the Mafia.
As he settled, the first thing that hit him was her scent: fresh, like citrus and clean linen, as if sheâd just stepped from a shower. Her skin glowed under the light, dewy and unmarked, no trace of the near-fatal ambush sheâd survived. She couldnât have known he was coming; the invite from Isabeau had been last-minute, and Cleopatra had only left that vague door open in their prior talk. Yet here she was, composed and ready, like sheâd anticipated every move.
Cleopatra met his gaze directly, her eyes sharp and unyielding. She showed no sign of someone whoâd dodged deathâ no tremor, no shadows under her eyes. It was her norm, this brush with violence, a life where hits and counterstrikes were Tuesdayâs agenda. Kyle hated to admit it, but she looked stunning without the dark gothic makeup that had defined their first meetings. Her natural face was striking: high cheekbones, full lips bare of color, skin flawless and warm-toned. No heavy eyeliner or pale foundation to hide behindâjust raw allure that drew his stare longer than intended. He blinked, forcing his focus back.
"Iâm surprised you came," she said, tilting her head. "Did things not work out with Ella?"
Kyle frowned, caught off guard. "What do you mean by that?"
She leaned forward slightly, her robe shifting just enough to hint at the curve beneath. "Donât play dumb. I know you want to fuck my sister," Cleopatra said in a knowing tone. It was obvious from the footage she had gotten from the CCTV camera, there was sexual attraction between those two.
He paused, the words hitting like a gut punch. His mind flashed to last night: Ellaâs body arching under him, her nails raking his back as he thrust deep, the flashback was intense considering he could recall every little detail meaning he could relive the moment right down to the feelings and sensation it incurred.
Cleopatraâs grin widened, predatory and knowing. She leaned in closer, elbows on the table, her voice a teasing whisper. "Or... have you already?"
His silence stretched a beat too long, answering for him. She sat back, satisfied, but Kyle cleared his throat, steering hard.
"Thatâs not why Iâm here. I met Viktor. He tested meâattacked, like sizing up a threat but I think I might have messed up," Kyle paused briefly.
Cleopatraâs expression shifted to confusion, her brows knitting.
"Viktor? A head family reaching out to you? Thatâs odd. Why would he bother with something so silly?" Cleopatra blurted out.
Her eyes narrowed, interest piqued, but before she could probe, her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen, then stood with fluid grace.
"Excuse me a moment." She excused herself smoothly, slipping through a side door, her robe trailing like a whisper. Kyle couldnât help but sneak a peak ay her round buttocks walking away wondering how someone so evil could have this physique.
Kyle waited, tension coiling in his gut. He had no clue why sheâd left, but unknown to him, it was the call with Isabeauâplotting in hushed tones about his approach as they were still in league, her secrets teetering on exposure.
And it became clear Isabeu had asked Cleopatra to keep him here but what was the agreement they reached?
She returned shortly, composure intact, sliding back into her seat as if nothing happened. "Now, where were we?"