First Rule: Don't Fall For The Enemy

CHAPTER 3

MIRA’S POV

THREE WEEKS LATER

"You're home late again." Jesse's voice cut through the darkness as I slipped into our shared apartment at nearly midnight. He was sitting on the couch, still fully dressed, a cup of cold coffee in his hands.

"Adrian had me reorganizing his entire filing system," I said, dropping my purse and kicking off my heels. Three weeks into this job, and staying late had become as routine as breathing. "The man is obsessive about organization."

"This is the fourth night this week, Mira." Jesse stood, his concern evident in the set of his shoulders. "What's really going on up there?"

I wanted to tell him about the tiny surveillance device I'd finally managed to plant behind Adrian's bookshelf, or how I'd memorized the combination to his private safe. Instead, I said, "He's a demanding boss. You knew this wouldn't be easy."

"Demanding is one thing. This feels different." Jesse moved closer, his voice dropping. "The other guards are talking. They say he's never kept an assistant this long, never worked this closely with anyone."

"Maybe I'm just better at the job than his previous assistants."

"Or maybe he's playing a different game entirely."

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a text from Adrian: “Need you in early tomorrow. 7 AM sharp. We have work to do.”

Jesse saw me reading it and shook his head. "See what I mean? It's like he owns you."

"He's my boss, Jesse. Of course he has expectations."

"This isn't about expectations, and you know it." His frustration was palpable as he began pacing across the small living room. "I see the way he looks at you when you think no one's watching. This isn't just business for him."

I wanted to deny it, but the memory of Adrian's dark eyes tracking my every movement, the way his voice changed when we were alone, made Jesse's words ring uncomfortably true.

"You're being paranoid," I said, but my voice lacked conviction.

"Am I?" Jesse stopped pacing and turned to face me fully. "Mira, I know you. We've been together for two years. I can tell when something's changed."

"Nothing's changed."

"Bullshit." The word came out harsher than intended, and he ran his hands through his sandy hair in frustration. "You come home every night looking like you've been through an emotional wringer. You barely talk to me anymore unless it's about work. And when you do look at me, it's like you're seeing through me."

"That's not true—"

"Isn't it?" He moved closer, his blue eyes searching my face. "When's the last time we had dinner together? When's the last time we actually talked about this mission? You don’t even talk to me about it anymore. It’s just as if it means nothing to you anymore."

I opened my mouth to answer and realized I couldn't. The past three weeks had been a blur of Adrian's intense presence, late-night conversations that felt too intimate, and moments that made my pulse race in ways that had nothing to do with fear.

"See?" Jesse's voice was quieter now, hurt creeping in. "You can't even remember."

"Jesse, this job is consuming. You know how important it is—"

"More important than us?" The question hung in the air between us like a loaded weapon. "Because that's what it feels like, Mira. Like you're choosing work over me."

"I'm not choosing anything. This is just work."

"Is it?" He stepped closer, close enough that I could see the pain in his eyes. "Because the way you say his name doesn't sound like work. The way your face changes when you talk about him doesn't look like work."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "What are you saying? That's ridiculous." But even as I said it, I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. "He's the target, Jesse. Nothing more."

"Then prove it."

"How?"

"Kiss me." His hands found my shoulders, his touch gentle but insistent. "Kiss me like you mean it. Like I'm not just some consolation prize."

I stared at him, this man who'd stood by my side through two years of dangerous assignments, who'd held me when nightmares kept me awake, who'd never once questioned my ability to do my job. Until now.

"Jesse—"

"Please." His voice cracked slightly. "I need to know that whatever's happening up there, whatever hold he has on you, that you're still mine. That we're still us."

The desperation in his voice broke something inside me. This wasn't fair to him. None of it was fair. He deserved better than a girlfriend who came home every night thinking about another man's voice, another man's touch, another man's dark eyes that seemed to see straight through to her soul.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, reaching up to cup his face. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For making you doubt us. For letting this job get so complicated." I leaned closer, close enough to smell his familiar cologne, to see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes.

"Mira," Jesse breathed, his hands tightening on my shoulders.

"You don't have to compete with anyone," I said finally, and leaned up to kiss him.

The kiss was desperate, almost fierce, both of us trying to reclaim something that felt like it was slipping away. Jesse's arms came around me, pulling me against him with a desperation that matched my own. For a moment, I let myself get lost in the familiar comfort of his embrace, the way his lips moved against mine, the steady beat of his heart under my palms.

But even as I kissed him, even as I tried to pour all my love and reassurance into that contact, a traitorous part of my mind wondered what it would feel like to kiss someone else.

Someone with dark hair and darker eyes, someone whose presence made my skin burn and my pulse race.