Page 49 of The Viper
“You’re thinking,” I said.
“Habit.”
“Bad one?”
“Depends what the thoughts are.”
I traced circles on his shoulder. “So, tell me one.”
He hesitated, then: “That you don’t belong in a world that chews people up for headlines.”
I smiled faintly. “I helped build that world.”
“And you hate it,” he said, not asking.
My throat tightened. “Sometimes. I love the work. The stories. The part where I get to disappear into someone else. But the rest …” I shook my head. “The noise, the scrutiny—it’s like living in a house made of glass. Even when you close the curtains, you can feel the eyes.”
He listened, really listened. “Then maybe you need to find the places where the glass doesn’t reach.”
“Those exist?”
He nodded once. “There are villages in the mountains of Nepal where no one would recognize your face. Islands in the Pacific that don’t have cell towers. I could take you there.”
I laughed softly. “You sound like a travel brochure for witness protection.”
“I’m serious.” His eyes were dark, steady. “You deserve to be just Lexi. Not the version they edit.”
Something in me broke a little then—not painfully, just open. “And what about you?” I asked. “Where do you get to be just Lucas?”
He stared at the ceiling for a moment before answering. “I don’t remember.”
I waited.
He exhaled. “Before this, I was halfway through an operation in China. The kind that doesn’t make headlines because it’s not supposed to exist. They pulled me mid-mission, told me my new assignment was stateside. No details, just a city and a name.”
“Noah,” I said quietly.
He nodded. “Didn’t know what I was walking into. Then the gig with the film showed up.”
“Lucky me.”
His voice softened. “What I didn’t expect was you.”
I swallowed hard. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I didn’t plan to fall for you.”
The words landed like heat—slow, spreading, undeniable. “You are falling for me,” I said, not quite a question.
He met my gaze. “Yeah.”
My pulse skipped. “Good. Because I’m falling, too.”
For a moment, neither of us breathed. Then he reached over, brushed his thumb along my jaw, and smiled faintly. “You sure it’s me you like? Not the mystery? Not the bodyguard fantasy?”
I smiled back. “Maybe a little of both.”
“Honest woman.”
