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Chapter 10 - Cold Currents, Warm Eyes

Lilith stared at the black card in her hand long after Arnold had left. It was heavier than its size justified—like it carried something unseen. A promise, maybe. Or a warning. She wasn't sure which.

She tucked it into her wallet and stood, suddenly aware of how empty the café felt now. The background noise—the espresso machine hissing, the murmur of conversations, the clink of cups—had returned. But it all sounded distant. Detached. Like she'd stepped into a different world and couldn't quite find her way back.

She tried to focus on wiping down tables, restocking napkins, anything to stop her thoughts from spiraling. But one question kept echoing:

How had he found her?

She'd been careful. After the group, after the deal, after disappearing… she'd kept everything low-profile. Changed her name legally. Opened her shop under a shell name. Paid for digital scrubbing services. No social media. No tags. No trails.

So how?

And if Arnold had found her…

Then maybe that's how Victor had, too.

That thought sent a chill racing up her spine.

Meanwhile, across the city, Arnold Blaze leaned back in the leather seat of his car, his mind unusually quiet.

"Drive," he told his driver, not specifying where.

His jaw was clenched, fingers drumming slowly on the armrest.

Victor Sterling.

That was a name with weight. Power. Old money. And a ruthless streak that didn't play well with others.

But what was his connection to Lilith?

Arnold wasn't sure yet. And that bothered him.

He didn't like unknown variables.

Not in business. Not in people.

Not in her.

The next few days passed in a blur of half-slept nights and carefully guarded glances.

Lilith didn't call Arnold.

But she thought about it more than she wanted to admit.

Each time she passed her wallet, her eyes drifted toward the card. Just knowing it was there did something strange to her chest—something tight and unspoken.

She kept telling herself it was about survival. Safety.

But a part of her—the reckless part—wondered if it was something else.

Something warmer. Something dangerously close to longing.

Then, one morning, just as she was unlocking the front door of The Reading Nook, she saw it.

A sleek, familiar car was parked across the street. Engine off. Windows tinted.

Lilith's pulse quickened.

Before she could fully decide what to do, the passenger door opened, and Arnold stepped out.

He was in another one of those razor-sharp suits, dark blue this time, with a coat slung over one arm and a phone in hand.

Purposeful. Measured. Like he'd planned every step before taking it.

Lilith tried to steady her breath. She didn't want him to know he affected her. She wasn't even sure why he did.

He approached with that same unshakeable calm.

"Good morning," he said smoothly.

Lilith forced a polite smile. "Morning. I wasn't expecting—"

"A meeting came up nearby," he lied effortlessly. "I thought I'd grab a coffee."

She didn't believe that for a second.

But she nodded and stepped aside to let him in.

Inside, the café was still quiet, not yet open to customers.

Arnold glanced around the space with the faintest hint of curiosity. His gaze paused briefly on a framed photo near the register—Lilith, smiling with two older women who looked like regulars.

"Nice place," he said.

"Built it from scratch," she replied, brushing her hands on her apron.

He looked at her then, and for a heartbeat, she saw something flicker in his eyes. Something like... approval.

But it vanished just as quickly.

"I didn't just come for coffee," he said finally, setting his phone down on a clean table. "I came to ask if you'd consider a business proposition."

Lilith blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You have a good presence. Charisma. Resilience," Arnold said matter-of-factly. "There's a philanthropic wing launching under my parent company. Focused on women-owned businesses, literacy, and rehabilitation programs. You'd fit the image."

Lilith's lips parted, but no words came.

Was this really about helping?

Or was this about keeping her close?

Arnold continued, his tone cool and professional. "I'm assembling a public-facing board. Names, faces, stories that matter. I want you on it."

Lilith crossed her arms. "Why me?"

He tilted his head slightly. "I already told you—you have something most people don't."

"Which is?"

"Real pain," he said softly. "And the ability to hide it."

Lilith felt that like a punch to the chest.

He didn't flinch as he said it. Just stared at her like he was reading a blueprint—calculating risk, projecting outcomes, slotting her into some larger strategy she couldn't see yet.

And still... a part of her wanted to say yes.

Later that evening, after the café had closed, Lilith sat alone with a glass of wine, the lights dimmed, the city humming outside.

She replayed everything—his offer, his gaze, his voice when he said "Real pain. And the ability to hide it."

She hated how much that had shaken her. How deeply he'd seen her without even trying.

She could feel herself falling—and not just into fear anymore.

Falling into the quiet mystery of Arnold Blaze.

But the worst part?

She didn't think he was falling with her.

Not even a little.

And that made it all the more dangerous.

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