Raw Intel

Elena arranged the spinach salad with surgical precision, her fingers trembling just enough to notice. Across the granite countertop, Marcus watched her with that hungry intensity that had made her fall for him three months ago. Tonight, that hunger felt different—predatory.

"You seem distracted," he said, swirling his wine. The overhead pendant light caught the silver at his temples. He looked distinguished. Expensive. The kind of man who paid for loyalty.

"Work." Elena forced a laugh. "The fiber optic merger is a nightmare." That part was true. As a senior analyst at Corinth Cable, she had access to everything—internal memos, financial projections, the classified bid data that would make or break the hostile takeover. Everything Marcus's firm would kill to see.

What Marcus didn't know: she wasn't just sleeping with him. She was the spy his competitors had planted in his bed.

"Corinth's stock is undervalued," Marcus mused, testing her. "Rumor is, they're sitting on a revolutionary encryption technology."

Elena's heart hammered. He was fishing. "Maybe." She served the salad, watching his reaction. "Or maybe it's just cable infrastructure. Boring stuff."

"Boring doesn't triple market cap in six months." His phone chimed. He glanced at it, eyebrows raising. "Interesting." He stood, crossing to where his laptop sat open on the dining table. "My firm just acquired a stake. Effective immediately."

The room tilted. Elena gripped the counter. If Marcus's firm owned Corinth now, the merger documents she'd leaked yesterday weren't just trade secrets—they were evidence of insider trading. Her phone, still in her purse, contained the encrypted emails that could destroy them both.

"You okay?" Marcus moved behind her, hands on her shoulders. His touch was warm, possessive. "You look pale."

She turned to face him, searching for any sign that he knew. Had he played her? Had his firm used her intel to acquire Corinth, knowing she'd take the fall if regulators investigated? Was that why he'd pursued her so aggressively at that industry conference in April?

"Spinach," she whispered. "Is there—" She gestured to her teeth, buying a second to think.

Marcus smiled, reaching to thumb her lower lip. "Clean." His fingers lingered. "Beautiful."

His eyes held something she couldn't read. Pride? Pity? The satisfaction of a man who'd closed a deal?

"What happens now?" she asked, and they both understood she wasn't talking about dinner.

"Now," Marcus said softly, "we eat." He pulled her toward the table, toward the laptop glowing with confidential documents, toward whatever came next for two people who'd fallen in love while lying about everything else. "And then I suppose we find out if we're on the same side after all."

Elena sat. The spinach salad waited, untouched. Somewhere, servers were syncing. Evidence was uploading. Outside her control, beyond both of them now.

She picked up her fork. "Tell me about the encryption technology," she said, and let herself fall, just a little deeper.