Chapter 12 Nikolai
The security report landed on my desk at two AM.
I'd been awake anyway, working through contracts I didn't care about and doing my best not to think about Marlena's face in the car.
The way she'd flinched when I touched her.
The way her voice had cracked.
I'd seen pure fear in her eyes but she'd refused to open up about it.
I shoved the thought away and opened the report.
SECURITY ALERT: Unauthorized surveillance detected on subject M. Rousseau.
My jaw clenched as I read further.
Someone had accessed the building's main security camera system.
They'd looped footage from Marlena's floor, created a blind spot lasting approximately four minutes.
This was professional work – it was too clean to be amateur and the timestamp said tonight. While we were at the Kensingtons'.
"Fuck."
I pulled up my own security feeds, scrubbing through the footage frame by frame.
Then I found it. A glitch in the hallway camera outside Marlena's room. Three seconds of static.
Someone had been here on her floor.
My hand tightened around the mouse until my knuckles went white.
I switched to the internal feed from her room, the one she didn't know about.
The timestamp showed 11:47 PM. Twenty minutes ago.
Marlena sat on the floor, her back against the door, phone clutched in shaking hands.
Even through the grainy footage, I could see her shoulders heaving. She was crying.
Not delicate tears – full-body sobs that made her whole frame shake.
Something twisted in my chest – a feeling I didn't find quite comfortable.
I told myself it was just strategy. A compromised asset was a useless asset but for some reason, I couldn't look away.
She kept staring at her phone, then trying to call someone. The same number, over and over.
Luka, probably.
Each time it went to voicemail, she crumpled a little more.
Then she just sat there, knees pulled to her chest, making herself small in that massive room I'd given her.
She looked exactly like what she was: terrified and alone.
I should have felt satisfaction. This was the point – she was supposed to be scared, dependent and useful.
Instead, I felt something dangerously close to guilt.
I picked up my phone and called Anton.
He answered on the first ring. "Sir?"
"I need a protection detail on Luka Rousseau. Full coverage, twenty-four seven. Hospital staff vetted and replaced if necessary. No one gets near him without clearance." I said coldly.
"Understood. Should I inform Miss Rousseau?"
"No." I leaned back in my chair. "She doesn't need to know."
"Sir, if I may – if someone is targeting her brother, wouldn't it be better to –”
"Are you questioning me, Anton?"
Silence. Then: "No, sir."
"Good. I also want building security upgraded. Full sweep for surveillance equipment. Anyone who accessed the system tonight, I want their identity and location by morning."
"Yes, sir." He said.
I hung up and switched back to the feed.
Marlena hadn't moved. She was still sitting there, staring at nothing.
I should go down there and ask her what happened. I should demand to see whatever was on that phone that made her fall apart but I didn't.
Because if I went down there now, I'd do something stupid – like care about her.
Marcus showed up at eight AM with coffee and questions I didn't want to answer.
"You look like shit," he said, setting an espresso on my desk.
"Good morning to you too."
"Did you sleep?" he asked.
"No."
"Let me guess – Viktor?"
"Always Viktor." I took the coffee, burning my tongue on the first sip. "What do you want, Marcus?"
"Just checking in." He settled into the chair across from me, too casual. "You've seemed... distracted lately."
"I'm not distracted."
"You've rescheduled three meetings this week. You snapped at the board yesterday. And –" He gestured to the monitors behind me. "You're watching security footage at eight in the morning instead of prepping for the Goldman call."
"The Goldman deal can wait." I said.
"Since when?" He studied me with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. "What's going on?"
"Nothing."
"Bullshit." He leaned forward. "Is it her? Your contract wife?"
My hand tightened on the coffee cup. "Marlena is part of the plan. Nothing more."
"Right. The plan." Marcus's tone was skeptical. "The plan that has you watching her on cameras and increasing security and – Nikolai, are you developing feelings for her?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Then what's with the protection detail on her brother? The upgraded building security? The way you looked ready to murder someone when Vivienne cornered her last night?"
I said nothing.
Marcus laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Holy shit. You actually care about her."
"I care about the plan working." I said, rubbing my knuckles.
"The plan doesn't require you to protect her brother. The plan doesn't require you to give a damn if she's scared or upset or –"
"Enough." My voice came out cold enough to stop him "You have a point, make it."
Marcus was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Be careful, Nikolai. Women like her – they get under your skin. Make you forget why you started this in the first place."
"I haven't forgotten anything."
"Haven't you?" He stood, straightening his suit. "Because from where I'm sitting, you're treating her less like bait and more like something you want to keep."
He left before I could respond.
I sat there, staring at the security feed.
Marlena had finally moved. She was in bed now, curled on her side, still fully dressed from last night.
She looked small, nothing like the woman who'd stood up to Vivienne or challenged me in the hallway.
Marcus was wrong. I hadn't forgotten the plan.
Viktor Rousseau had destroyed my family and I was going to get revenge.
I couldn't afford to care about Marlena Rousseau.
She was a tool. A means to an end, but even as I told myself that, I knew something had shifted.
The way my chest had tightened watching her cry.
The way I'd wanted to go to her, to fix whatever had broken her.
The way I'd immediately ordered protection for her brother without even questioning why.
These weren't strategic decisions. These were reactions.
I pulled up Viktor's file again, forcing myself to focus.
This was what mattered. Not Marlena's tears or her fear or the way she'd looked at me in that hallway like maybe I was someone worth knowing.
Viktor. The plan. Revenge.
Everything else was just noise.
But my eyes kept drifting back to the monitor and her small void and I realized, with uncomfortable certainty, that Marcus was right.
Marlena was becoming more than just bait.
She was becoming a complication I hadn't planned for and I had no idea what to do about it.