Chapter 153 Shadows in the Daylight
Valentina
The sun hadn’t even peaked over the palms before I claimed my perch.
Second-floor balcony. Cushioned teak lounge. Binoculars on one side, coffee on the other. Legs tucked beneath me like I was settling in for a casual morning, not a stakeout.
But this wasn’t casual.
This was calculated.
The obsidian yacht bobbed lazily just beyond the marina gate, so close it might as well have been a stage—and I had front-row seats. I didn’t even need the binoculars to see the comings and goings. The boat was close enough that I could track movement with the naked eye. The lenses were only for faces. For catching expressions, glints of recognition, power dynamics in posture and proximity.
I wasn’t looking at a boat. I was dissecting a kingdom.
And waiting for its tyrant to step off the throne.
The sliding glass door behind me whispered open.
Tess’s bare feet padded softly across the tiles. She set a tray beside me—a salad, two cold bottles of water, a slice of mango tart so pretty it looked like a bribe.
“You know,” she said, squinting toward the docks, “if you sit here any longer, you’re going to start photosynthesizing.”
“Good,” I muttered. “I could use a new talent.”
Tess plopped into the chair beside me with a groan. “Are you seriously going to stay in this exact spot the entire time we’re here?”
“Yes.”
She blinked. “You’re not even gonna pretend to explore the island? Dip a toe in the ocean? Go to the spa?
“No. This isn’t a vacation.”
She let out a dramatic sigh. “At least eat the tart while you spy on your mortal enemy. You’ll look less homicidal.”
I ignored the fork she offered and reached for the binoculars again.
Tess gave up. “Fine. What exactly are you even looking for?”
I adjusted the zoom, scanning the edge of the gangplank. “Several things, really.”
“Such as?”
“Who’s going on and off the ship. What kind of people. Do they bring anything with them? Do they leave with bags or nothing? Are they armed, nervous, flirty, scared?” I tilted the angle, following a man in a crisp linen suit who seemed to be directing a delivery crew. “And if Bexley himself happens to leave—”
“You’ll follow him?”
I lowered the binoculars and gave her a look. “I’ll track where he goes. Not personally follow. That’s what Matteo’s men are for. I’m just logging patterns.”
Tess blinked. “You’ve been up here all morning logging patterns?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Her voice dropped, quieter now. “Are you hoping you’ll see her?”
I didn’t answer right away.
The truth was sharp in my chest. Always there, just under the skin.
“I’m watching for any girls,” I said eventually. “Any women, really. But especially one who looks around thirty. Probably dark hair. Maybe my nose. Maybe my eyes. Maybe neither.”
Tess was silent.
Then, gently, “That’s a long shot.”
I didn’t argue.
Because I knew it was.
But I also knew what long shots felt like when they hit.
“I won’t miss her,” I said, voice steady. “Not if she’s right in front of me.”
Tess leaned back in her chair, sunlight painting her lashes gold.
“I hope she’s here,” she said quietly.
“Me too.”
Tess was mid-bite when I bolted upright in my chair.
“Whoa,” she said, mouth full. “Did someone jump overboard or something?”
“No,” I whispered, already reaching for the binoculars. “Someone just got off.”
My heart kicked hard in my chest as I zeroed in.
It was a man and a woman.
The man—Bexley. No doubt in my mind. Arrogant gait, perfectly pressed shirt opened just enough to scream rich sleaze, and a glinting chain at his neck I remembered all too well.
The woman beside him was tall, slim, long dark hair cascading down her back. She wore oversized black sunglasses and a white halter maxi dress that fluttered in the breeze like a damn movie entrance. She kept her face turned away as they descended the gangplank.
I couldn’t see her eyes.
Couldn’t see her face.
Couldn’t breathe.
“Tess,” I snapped, already rising to my feet. “Get Matteo. Now.”
“What—why—”
“Just get him!”
She jumped up and ran for the hallway as I kept the binoculars trained on the pair walking toward the end of the dock. Bexley said something and the woman laughed—head tilting back just slightly, a graceful tilt of her shoulders as she slipped her hand into his.
That laugh.
That posture.
Could it be?
Footsteps pounded behind me.
“Valentina?” Matteo’s voice was already edged with concern.
I turned to him. “Bexley’s on the move.”
His body went taut.
“He has a woman with him,” I continued. “I can’t be certain, but it might be her. She’s tall, thin, dark hair, sunglasses. I need a closer look.”
He stepped beside me, peering out the window. “You want me to have the men follow—?”
“Yes, of course,” I cut in. “Tail him. Discreetly. But I’m going too.”
He turned to face me fully, arms folding. “You’re not going near that dock.”
“I’m not asking your permission, Matteo.” My voice was low, firm. “He doesn’t know who I am. For that matter, he doesn’t know who you are either.”
He stared at me for a beat. Then two. Then three.
And sighed.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Let’s go.”
I was already moving.
We were halfway down the stairs when I turned and called back to Tess, who was hovering at the top.
“Stay here,” I ordered. “Keep watch from the balcony. If they come back or if anything looks off, you call me immediately. Understood?”
She nodded quickly. “Got it.”
“Call me even if your gut feels weird,” I added. “I don’t care if it turns out to be a tourist in a bad wig. You tell me.”
“Got it,” she said again, this time more firmly.
I didn’t wait for another reply.
Matteo was already ahead of me, pulling out his phone and murmuring instructions in rapid Italian.
As we slipped into the waiting car, I cast one last glance at the yacht through the tinted window.
Bexley had already disappeared into the maze of streets.
But I would find him.
And if the woman with him was who I thought she might be…
Then this trip was about to change everything.