Page 49 of The Hunter's Empire

When I glance over my shoulder, Domenico is unbuttoning his shirt with the same calm focus he seems to apply to everything else in life. His movements are unhurried, completely unconcerned by my presence.

My gaze lingers for a second too long before I look away again.

But of course, he notices. “You can look, you know.”

The arrogance in his voice makes me roll my eyes immediately. “I wasn't looking.”

A low chuckle reaches me from across the room. Neither of us believes that.

I turn back toward him anyway, prepared to deliver another cutting remark, but the words die before they can leave my mouth.

Not because of his tattoos. Not because he is shirtless. Because my attention catches on the small device attached beneath his left arm.

The glucose monitor. The same one security stopped him downstairs for. Something about it suddenly feels wrong.

I study it more carefully. “You don't have diabetes.”

Domenico follows my gaze. “No.”

The answer comes so easily that I stare at him. “Then why are you wearing it?”

Instead of answering, he reaches up and removes the device. I watch him carefully.

A second later, the casing opens. My surprise must show immediately because he looks far too amused with himself.

Hidden inside are two tiny communication devices. One of them ends up in my hand.

I stare at the earpiece, then at him. “That is what security would find.”

“That is what they were supposed to find.”

For the first time that evening, genuine admiration slips through me. It is clever. Annoyingly clever. The monitor. The alias. The friendships. The stories people keep telling about Lucien. Nothing about this identity feels temporary. Lucien has existed here for years.

I study the tiny earpiece for a moment. “You really thought of everything.”

Domenico slides the second earpiece into his own ear. “Almost everything.”

The confidence in the answer should sound arrogant. Instead, it sounds factual. The conversation fades naturally after that. The tension is still there, lingering beneath the surface, but it feels quieter now.

Domenico disappears into the bathroom first, leaving me alone with the files, the silence, and far too much time to think. By the time he emerges half an hour later, dressed entirely in black, I have finally managed to force my attention back toward the reason we are here.

I take the earpiece and disappear into the bathroom myself, spending the next half hour getting ready. By the time I finish, the sky outside has turned completely dark.

The black lace dress feels appropriate for the evening. Elegant enough for a room full of old money and powerful people, but simple enough not to attract unnecessary attention.

When I step back into the bedroom, Domenico is waiting near the windows, his gaze lifting briefly as I enter. The look lasts less than a second before his attention returns to the watch resting against his wrist.

“Ready?”

I nod.

Neither of us comments on the fact that we are about to walk into a room filled with people capable of destroying entire lives with a single decision.

Together, we leave the room.

The manor feels different at night. The quiet elegance from earlier has disappeared beneath the steady hum of conversation and movement.

Staff move through the hallways carrying trays of drinks while guests drift between rooms in tailored suits and expensive gowns. Soft music echoes from somewhere deeper inside the house, blending with the low murmur of voices.