ADELINE

My back hits the ground hard, and I groan. Ouch!

I roll on my side and press a cold palm to my spine. Ugh! That was precisely what I needed to wake up.

I have been trying to connect the dots between the bullets, Windsor's death, and the anonymous intruder since this Saturday morning.

After countless attempts, I decided to be the bigger person and sleep on it. It seems to my dismay that another disadvantage to being 5'4 is that you cannot be the bigger person.

I woke up only a few hours later by falling down the king-sized bed. How can you fall out of a king-sized bed? I am advancing every day I see.

With a groan, I roll on the cold floor till I reach the small media console with the TV on it. I press the power button, and the screen comes to life.

The face of America's most-known talk show TV host, Norman Fisherman, takes over the screen. I have enough to deal with, and the last thing I want to hear is that ancient man talking about politics.

With another groan, I roll back to the bed to retrieve the remote, but Norman's rich voice stops me. "The death of Michigan's beloved Senator was unfortunate." I turned to look at the TV.

Fisherman continues, "We lost two of our best leaders in less than a month, Rachel. How do you explain that?" The camera switches to today's guest.

"I don't think it is a coincidence, Norman; I think someone with great power must be responsible for both deaths." I sit upright and wait for her to elaborate, but the camera switches to Fisherman.

"But you saw the medical report, Rachel. Millis's death was caused by a stroke." Rachel smiles and starts explaining her theory.

"There are unlimited ways to kill a man, Norman. Instead of asking ourselves, how? We should ask ourselves why." Fisherman frowns at her.

"It is well-known how supportive Senator Millis Johnson was of Joe. If the intelligence was true and Windsor was a double agent, wouldn't it make sense to target the entire circle of potential spies?"

Is she accusing the United States Federation of assassination?

"Windsor was given a fair trial. If they wanted to kill him anyway, why did they wait that long?" He is right. If the government wanted Joe dead, he would have been long ago.

"Do you know what it would mean to the government to not only be fooled by the Russians but also to learn that the betrayal reached one of the country's most important ministers?"

"If Windsor was a traitor, can you imagine how much our enemy knows about our Army, our weapons, and our plans? It is a disaster, Norman. If anything, Windsor's death saved us all."

"So you are saying?" Fisherman risks a glance at the camera. "The government killed Windsor after proving he was innocent because if he had died a traitor, it would have affected the peace of the American people."

Rachel nods, and I turn off the TV. Another politician? That quickly. Maybe the Senator did die naturally, but if he has a history with Windsor and is a potential spy, then I must look into it.

I grab my phone immediately to call my boss and ask for information about The Senator's death, but I place the phone back as quickly as I took it.

They won't let me get information. They barely give me data about Windsor. This won't work any longer. I need access to everything fast.

But how could I convince them to give it to me? It is a disaster, Norman. If anything, Windsor's death saved us all.

If what Rachel says is true and they did all this drama to not look bad and upset the public, then they would do anything if the public strongly demanded it.

I know what I have to do.

⟺

I take the stairs to my office on the second floor. Not for any particular reason, but just because I could. Also, I saw The Chairman riding the elevator.

I still have to write the weekly report, and I spent the weekend doing everything but that. I was hoping I could get it done now and submit it in an hour or so.

I reach the second floor and unlock the door to my office. The office is not big, but it is cozy. There is a wooden desk in the middle of the room, a tall library on the left, and a small couch with a coffee table on the right.

What I like most is the big window behind the desk. It has a view of The Pentagon's courtyard.

There is a small tourist site in that courtyard too. A hot dog stand that was targeted by two Soviet ICBMs due to unclear satellite footage. They call it 'Cafe Ground Zero.'

I chuckle as I sit at my desk and start working on my weekly report. I mention everything about Joe's history and the bullets found in the building.

I don't include the fact that not a single employee used their guns in the three days before or after the death of Joe, nor do I include anything from my interview with Amy.

After what I found about the government freezing Joe's account, my suspicion grew, but that is not why I am holding back information.

I am holding back because any smart person could see my plan from miles away if I mention all that I know.

Writing it down makes it all clearer and easier to explain to the public. That is, if The Chairman decides to share it with the public.

Before I could add my theories about how Windsor was killed to the report, the office door swings open, and Greyson walks in. Oh great.

I was about to sarcastically ask him to get out and knock, but the words die in my throat when he locks the door. Shit! What is he doing?

He turns to me, and for a second, I forget who he is. Black turtleneck, heavy coat, polished shoes, and black dress pants.

His blond hair falls on his forehead in waves that only make him look more out of your league. He looks like a book character, and he is mad.

"Mr. Ledger!" I say it a bit too enthusiastically with a smile. "How can I help you-" he cuts me off.

"I talked with Oliver." Oh well, double shit. It would feel like a success if I wasn't trapped in my own office by a 6'4 male who is watching me like a predator about to launch at his prey.

"What did he say?" I try to sound interested. As if Oliver reporting back to Greyson is something I would love to hear about,

"What do you think he said?" He raises an eyebrow at me and steps forward. "Oliver is a kind man. I am certain he said something nice."

He takes lazy steps toward my desk, but even though he is moving slowly, it only makes the hair on my arm stand on end. I instinctively stand up. My hands are on the desk. It is the only barrier between me and him.

"Nice wasn't necessarily a part of the conversation." Okay, what is my plan B? Act fool. Yes, the perfect excuse.

"That is odd." I frown a bit and make an effort to look as clueless as possible.

"Is it?" His fingers gently brush the surface of the few files on my desk. "Listen, Adeline." Oh my god, I am sure I corrected him before.

I don't like the way he says my name. It sounds seductive, sinful, and very wrong of me to want him to repeat it. "Miss West." I force my voice to sound neutral.

"Since you are staying here, there are two things you need to know." He places both his hands on the desk and leans forward.

"One, I will go out of my way to eliminate you if you break the rules." He leaned in until I could feel his breath on my face. Move away, Adeline! Move! But my body freezes, and my legs stay rooted to the ground. "Two." He pauses for a second, taking his time to explore my eyes. If I didn't know better, I would say he likes them, but I know better.

"I don't like lies."

His biting tone reminds me who he is all over again. An Asshole. This is what I meant by knowing better. He hates me.

Before I can come up with more lies, he steps back and grabs one of the heavy armchairs in front of my desk. He moves it swiftly with one hand.

I might have underestimated how strong men like him are. It would be fascinating to watch if the circumstances differed. He sits down and crosses his legs. One hand on his knee and the other on the armrest.

Dominant is one word to describe the way he sits. It's like he owns the place—elegant, slow, and dangerously calm. 'The silence before the storm' sort of calm.

"Sit." He demands. I can't help but get offended. He may be someone with authority, but that doesn't give him an open invitation to boss me around.

"Excuse me?" He balances me with the same glare he gave Matheo last Friday. With a sigh, I sit back down in my seat.

"Tell me, Adeline. How was your trip to The White House?" Oliver did a lot of talking, I see.

"Fruitful." I bite my lips. He still calls me by my first name, even though I have corrected him three times. His gaze shifts to my lips for a split second before he meets my eyes again.

"I heard." He starts tapping impatiently on the armrest. "What did you find that made Oliver take three days to report back to me?"

Oliver must have had an eternal crisis this weekend. I will make a point of apologizing to him later. I can't risk Oliver's career because of my disregard for the rules.

I have a feeling Greyson isn't here to fire me. He just wants a confession. One thing I have learned is that whatever Greyson wants, Greyson gets.

I take a deep breath. My brave posture from earlier is no longer present. My shoulders fall, and I lean on the backrest. "It was only a few people."

A smirk breaks out on his face, and he crosses his arms. His eyes sparkle in amusement as he gets comfortable on the chair. It is like I am telling him an interesting story.

"I wasn't allowed to do anything! I couldn't get the data I wanted or the camera footage I needed! What's the point of the evidence if I can't use it?" I take a deep breath to calm myself down.

"I just wanted to interview a few people. No classified information was shared." I manage to say in a calm tone. To my surprise, he starts laughing. "What else did you do?"

It was so unexpected of him, and for a second, I was glad I leaned on the chair. His laugh lights up his face and turns him from harsh and calculating to soft and cuddly.

Somewhere in my mind, I have associated Greyson with the angry color of the clouds before a storm, but maybe I misjudged him.

It is these few seconds that make me wish I was Scarlet. Then I would remind myself that I would never fully see that side of him; I don't want to.

I started to answer the question when I remembered that I had broken another rule. My eyes shift momentarily to the red rose on the edge of my desk.

"Nothing." He must have caught my little movement because he turned to look at the rose. A ghost of a smile on his lips. He doesn't address it, though.

Maybe he doesn't notice; maybe he was just looking around. Of course, why else would he not say anything?

"I want a detailed report on everything you did by eleven hundred hours. Or The Chairman will know."

He rises and fixes his already flawless coat. Softly, he touches the red rose's petals. "Nice flower, Adeline."

He knows. He definitely knows. I don't even have a chance to correct him for the fourth time today before he walks out.

Angrily, I hide my red face in my hands and start silently screaming. Why can't he just call me Miss West? Ugh, he is tormenting me! Calm down, Adeline. Inhale. Exhale.

I run a hand through my hair and take off my blazer. It is getting very hot in here. After a few minutes of stretching, I continued working on my report.