Iris & Dominic Pov
Iris wakes at 3 AM to shouting.
She sits up in the cream-walled guest suite, her heart racing. The penthouse is supposed to be soundproof. The walls are supposed to be thick. But Anthony Moretti's voice carries through them like a weapon.
She can't hear the words clearly. Just fragments. Just rage. Just the sound of a man demanding blood.
She shouldn't get out of bed. She knows this. She should stay in the guest suite and pretend she doesn't exist. But something pulls her toward the hallway. Something she can't name or control.
Iris moves quietly through the penthouse. The hallway that leads to Dominic's office is dark. The only light comes from underneath his office door. She can hear Anthony's voice more clearly now, though the words still come in pieces.
woman exposed us
destroy her
weakness
Then Dominic's response. Ice. Pure ice.
"I make strategy decisions. Not revenge decisions. She's valuable. Her skills are worth more than her death."
"Her skills?" Anthony's voice rises. "She destroyed our structure. She killed eight people today. She started a war. And you want to keep her alive?"
"I want to use her to find the traitor bleeding us dry," Dominic says. "Marco is the real problem. That woman just exposed what he started."
There's a silence. Long enough that Iris holds her breath.
"You're compromised," Anthony finally says. His voice is quieter now. Colder. More dangerous. "I can see it. You brought her here instead of handling her. That's not strategy, Dominic. That's weakness."
"It's neither," Dominic says. "It's survival. We use her. We find Marco. We stop the war. Then she disappears. Clean. Simple."
"Nothing about this is clean," Anthony says. "But this is your operation. This is your decision. Just remember, nephew, that decisions have consequences. For all of us."
The line goes dead.
Iris hears the silence that follows. It feels heavier than the shouting. More final.
Then footsteps. Fast. Angry. The office door swings open.
Dominic emerges and stops cold when he sees her standing in the hallway.
For one second, his expression is unguarded. She sees everything. The anger at his uncle. The exhaustion beneath the control. The conflict that's tearing him apart.
Then he rebuilds the wall. His face becomes stone again.
"You shouldn't be here," he says.
"I shouldn't be alive," Iris shoots back. Her voice surprises her with its steadiness. "Neither should those eight people in Manhattan. But we are. So what now?"
Dominic studies her. He steps closer until there's maybe three feet between them. Close enough that she can see the tension in his shoulders. Close enough that the air between them feels charged.
"Now you tell me how you identify lies," he says.
He leads her to his office.
The room still smells like anger. There's a glass on the floor, water spreading across the marble tiles. He ignores it. He sits behind his desk and gestures for her to take the chair across from him.
But Iris doesn't sit. Not yet. She walks to the window instead and looks down at Manhattan below them.
"How many people did you just risk for me?" she asks.
"That's not relevant," Dominic says.
"It is relevant. Your uncle was right. You're compromised. Because of me."
Dominic is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is different. Less controlled. "My uncle is never right about people. He only understands fear and force. He doesn't understand strategy."
Iris turns to face him. "What strategy is keeping me alive?"
"The one that gets us results," Dominic says. He leans back in his chair. "Sit. You said you'd explain how you identify lies."
Iris sits. She feels the weight of what just happened settling onto her shoulders. Dominic just refused his uncle's direct command. He just chose her. He just started a chain reaction that could destroy everything he's built.
And he's acting like it's nothing.
"Eye contact," Iris begins, and her voice feels small in the massive office. "Most liars break eye contact. But some do the opposite. They overcompensate. They stare too hard, trying to appear confident. The difference is in the comfort level. An honest person maintains natural contact. A liar performs it."
Dominic listens without interrupting.
Iris continues. She explains stress behaviors. The way guilty people touch their faces. The way liars often touch their torsos like they're protecting something vital. The microexpressions that flash across a face before the person can control them. The way body language fights against words when someone is deceiving.
She talks for two hours.
Dominic doesn't move from behind his desk. He just listens. And something about his complete attention makes her feel seen in a way that terrifies her.
"Voice patterns," Iris says, finishing. "Liars often raise the pitch of their voice. They speak faster or slower than normal. They use filler words. They avoid using contractions. They say 'I did not do that' instead of 'I didn't do that.' It sounds formal because they're thinking about the lie instead of living it."
"And you can identify all of this in a room full of people?" Dominic asks.
"I can identify patterns. I can narrow down suspects. I can't guarantee who's guilty. I can only tell you who's lying about something. Sometimes people lie about small things. Sometimes the lying means guilt."
Dominic nods slowly. He stands and walks to the window. He looks out at the city like it's a problem he needs to solve.
"Tomorrow you start with my inner circle," he says. "Twenty people. You'll attend operational meetings. You'll study them. You'll identify who's lying about money, about loyalty, about access to accounts. You'll find patterns. And you'll narrow down the list."
"And then?" Iris asks.
"And then we take it from there," Dominic says.
He turns to face her, and the morning light catches his eyes. They're different colors in the daylight. Darker. More human.
"You'll have everything you need," Dominic continues. "Security. Access. My trust."
Iris stands. She walks closer to him until there's only the space between them. Only the electric silence.
"What if I identify someone and you kill them?" she asks quietly.
Dominic goes very still. His entire body becomes stone.
"Then you'll have the blood on your hands, not mine," he says finally. His voice is low. Controlled. But underneath, something is breaking. "That's why I hired you instead of doing this myself. That's why I brought you here instead of following my uncle's orders. Because I need someone who can look at this situation and see people instead of assets."
He steps even closer. Close enough that Iris can feel the heat radiating from him. Close enough that she has to force herself to breathe normally.
"I need you to be the part of me that still sees people as human," Dominic says. "My uncle doesn't see them that way anymore. I haven't seen them that way in years. But you do. And if you're going to help me, that has to stay true."
Iris's breath catches. "That's a lot of pressure."
"I know," Dominic says. "That's why I'm telling you now. If you can't do this, if you can't maintain that perspective while identifying people who will probably die because of your identification, then tell me. Tell me now and I'll find another way."
He's giving her an out. He's actually offering to let her leave.
But they both know she won't leave. Because eight people are already dead. Because there will be more if she does nothing. Because her conscience already made this choice.
"I can do it," Iris says.
"You're sure?"
"No," Iris says. "But I'll do it anyway."
Dominic's expression shifts. For one second, his guard drops completely. She sees something underneath. Something that looks like gratitude and something darker. Something that looks like falling.
Then he rebuilds the wall.
"Get some rest," he says, stepping back. "Tomorrow morning, you meet the inner circle. They know you're here now. They know you're an analyst. They don't know why. Let them figure it out."
Iris nods and walks toward the door.
"Iris," Dominic says as she reaches it.
She turns. He's never used her first name before.
"Thank you," he says. "For staying. For choosing to help instead of choosing to run."
She doesn't know how to respond to that. So she just nods and leaves his office.
But as she walks back to her guest suite, she understands something that terrifies her.
She didn't stay because she wanted to save lives. She didn't stay because of moral obligation. She stayed because she couldn't leave him. She stayed because somewhere between being kidnapped and being offered a contract, she started wanting this man to see her as human.
And that's the most dangerous lie she's told herself yet.
Because in his world, attachment is a weakness. And weakness gets people killed.