Chapter Ten – The Game
Annabell had never been more aware of her heartbeat.
It pulsed in her throat as she held Tony Barlow's calculating gaze across the candlelit table. Every instinct told her she was sitting opposite a predator—one who liked to toy with whatever he planned to devour.
She couldn't let him see her unease.
Michael's words echoed in her mind: You're still mine.
That thought steadied her spine.
Tony steepled his fingers under his chin, studying her. "So, Miss Parks. Tell me why I should trust you."
She drew a careful breath. "Because I specialize in identifying gaps—oversights that could become liabilities. My job isn't to expose them publicly. It's to help you close them quietly."
His mouth curved into a sharp smile. "You sound practiced."
"I am," she lied smoothly.
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "You know, there are some men who would see a woman like you and think you're too…delicate for this work."
Annabell let her expression go cool. "Then those men underestimate me."
He laughed softly. "I can see that."
A server arrived with a bottle of wine, and Annabell used the moment to glance discreetly at the papers in front of Tony. She spotted a company logo—Durant Holdings—which she remembered from Michael's list of suspicious shell corporations.
Her pulse jumped.
"You have an interest in Durant?" she asked lightly.
Tony's smile didn't waver. "Among other things."
"Perhaps I could review your arrangements with them," she suggested. "That's precisely the sort of contract that sometimes has hidden exposure."
For a flicker of a second, something shifted in Tony's eyes—something wary. Then it was gone, replaced by that same effortless charm.
"Of course," he murmured. "I'll consider it."
Annabell sipped her wine, fighting the urge to look away. She was here to gather evidence, not to bolt the moment she felt out of her depth.
When the server withdrew again, Tony's gaze settled on her more intently.
"You know," he said, voice soft, "I do admire a woman who isn't afraid to take risks."
Her heart beat faster. She forced herself to lift her chin.
"I'm not afraid," she said evenly.
His smile grew. "We'll see."
He reached across the table, his hand brushing her wrist—a light, deliberate contact that made her skin crawl.
You're still mine.
Michael's words were her anchor.
Annabell smoothly pulled her hand away under the guise of reaching for her bag. "I'll send you a preliminary analysis in the morning," she said, her voice steady. "If you find my approach useful, we can continue."
Tony inclined his head. "I look forward to it."
She rose, feeling her legs tremble as she moved. He watched her all the way to the stairs.
Only when she stepped out into the cool night did she let herself exhale.
She took out her phone with shaking fingers.
Annabell: He has Durant documents. I think you were right.
The reply came almost instantly.
Michael: Did he touch you?
She swallowed, heart tripping.
Annabell: Yes. Just my wrist.
There was a pause. Then:
Michael: Come back now.
Her chest squeezed tight. She could almost hear his voice in those words—low, dangerous, possessive.
As the car pulled away from the curb, Annabell pressed her hand over her fluttering heart.
She should have been terrified of how fiercely he wanted to claim her.
Instead, she only felt anticipation.
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