Chapter 6: Secrets and Silk

The bathroom adjoining the master bedroom was a testament to luxury that made Nicole's modest apartment seem positively spartan by comparison. Marble surfaces gleamed under soft lighting, and the shower could have comfortably accommodated a small party. Eva had insisted she use it, providing fluffy towels and expensive toiletries that smelled like jasmine and vanilla.

Now, wrapped in a silk robe that probably cost more than Nicole's monthly rent, she padded barefoot toward the sound of conversation and the rich aroma of coffee. Her reflection in the hallway mirrors showed a woman she barely recognized—hair tousled from sleep and passion, lips still slightly swollen from kisses, eyes bright with something she'd never seen there before.

She looked alive.

The kitchen was as stunning as the rest of the apartment, all granite countertops and professional-grade appliances. Bryce stood at an espresso machine that looked more like a piece of modern art than a coffee maker, his movements economical and precise. He'd pulled on dark jeans but remained shirtless, and Nicole found herself cataloguing the play of muscles across his back as he worked.

Eva perched on a barstool at the marble island, now dressed in a flowing emerald silk camisole and matching shorts that somehow managed to look both casual and devastatingly elegant. She was arranging what appeared to be a feast—fresh croissants, perfectly ripe fruit, artisanal cheeses, and delicate pastries that looked like they'd come from a five-star hotel.

"Good morning, beautiful," Eva purred as Nicole approached hesitantly. "Sleep well?"

Heat flooded Nicole's cheeks at the knowing look in Eva's eyes. "Better than I have in years," she admitted, accepting the cup of coffee Bryce offered her. The first sip was heaven—rich and complex with notes she couldn't identify but that spoke of quality far beyond her usual morning brew.

"This is incredible," she said, taking another appreciative sip.

"Bryce has many talents," Eva replied with a smile that made Nicole's pulse quicken. "Coffee is just one of them."

Bryce's answering look was heated but brief as he turned his attention back to the espresso machine. "I learned to appreciate the finer things during my travels," he said casually. "Amazing what you discover when money is no object."

The comment sparked Nicole's curiosity, reminding her how little she actually knew about these two people who had turned her world upside down. "What kind of travels?" she asked, settling onto the barstool beside Eva.

"Work takes me all over the world," Bryce replied, his tone carefully neutral. "Private security consulting requires a certain... flexibility."

Something in his voice made Nicole look up sharply. There was a guardedness there that hadn't been present during their intimate moments, a professional mask sliding into place. "What kind of private security?"

Eva's hand covered hers on the marble counter, warm and reassuring. "The kind that pays for apartments like this," she said lightly, but Nicole caught the warning look she shot Bryce. "The wealthy have unique security needs, and Bryce is very good at meeting them."

"How good?" Nicole pressed, her journalist instincts—dormant though they'd been since college—stirring to life.

Bryce set down his coffee cup with deliberate precision, those piercing blue eyes studying her face intently. "Good enough that my clients can sleep peacefully at night, knowing their threats have been... neutralized."

The word sent a chill down Nicole's spine. Neutralized. It was such a clinical term, but the way Bryce said it carried undertones of violence that made her suddenly aware of the scars decorating his torso. Those weren't from gym accidents or sports injuries—they spoke of a life lived on the edge of danger.

"You look worried," Eva observed, her thumb tracing soothing circles on Nicole's hand. "There's no need to be. Bryce would never let anything happen to us."

Us. The casual inclusion made Nicole's heart skip, but it also raised more questions. "What kind of threats require that level of protection?"

Bryce moved around the kitchen island with predatory grace, coming to stand behind Eva. His hands settled on her shoulders with possessive familiarity, and Nicole didn't miss the way Eva melted into his touch.

"The kind that come with extreme wealth," he said simply. "Corporate espionage, kidnapping attempts, assassination plots. People with that level of resources make enemies, and they need protection from professionals who understand how those enemies think."

"Because you think like them," Nicole said, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them.

Instead of being offended, Bryce smiled—a slow, dangerous expression that sent heat racing through her veins despite her growing unease. "Exactly. It takes a predator to catch a predator."

The admission should have terrified her. Should have sent her running back to her safe, predictable life where the most dangerous thing she encountered was aggressive traffic. Instead, it explained the aura of controlled violence that seemed to surround Bryce, the way he moved like he was constantly assessing threats and escape routes.

"My last deployment was in Montenegro," he continued conversationally, as if discussing the weather rather than what sounded like a military operation. "Three months protecting a tech billionaire who'd made the mistake of developing software that could expose certain government officials' financial irregularities."

"Deployment?" Nicole's coffee cup rattled against the saucer as she set it down. "You make it sound like you were in the military."

"Special Forces," Eva supplied when Bryce remained silent. "Before he went private sector."

Pieces began falling into place—the disciplined way he moved, the scars, the casual mention of neutralizing threats. Nicole had dated a few former military men, but none of them had carried themselves with Bryce's particular brand of lethal confidence.

"How long were you deployed?" she asked, though part of her wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Long enough," Bryce replied cryptically, his hands moving to massage Eva's shoulders. "But I'm home now, and that's what matters."

The tenderness in his voice when he looked at Eva was unmistakable, and Nicole felt something twist in her chest that might have been jealousy. These two had a history, a bond forged by experiences she couldn't even imagine. What place could someone like her possibly have in their dangerous, glamorous world?

"You're overthinking again," Eva said gently, turning on her barstool to face Nicole. "I can practically hear the wheels turning."

"It's just... this is all so far outside my experience," Nicole admitted. "I work in marketing for a mid-level company. I live in a studio apartment and worry about making rent. This—" she gestured around the opulent kitchen "—this isn't my world."

"It could be," Bryce said quietly, his intense gaze fixed on her face. "If you want it to be."

The simple statement hung between them, loaded with possibility and promise. Nicole thought of her cubicle at work, her beige walls, her predictable routine. Then she looked at the feast spread before them, the luxury surrounding her, the two magnetic people who seemed determined to pull her into their orbit.

"What would that even look like?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eva's smile was radiant. "Whatever we want it to look like. The beauty of our situation is that we have options most people can only dream of."

"Our situation," Nicole repeated. "What exactly is our situation?"

"Uncomplicated by conventional limitations," Bryce replied, moving to lean against the counter where he could see both women clearly. "I have more money than I could spend in several lifetimes. Eva has exquisite taste and the social skills to navigate any situation. And you..."

He paused, his gaze traveling over her with an intensity that made her skin flush. "You have something we've both been searching for without realizing it."

"What's that?"

"Authenticity," Eva said softly. "You're real, Nicole. Genuine in a way that's incredibly rare in our world. You haven't been corrupted by wealth or jaded by experience. You still have that capacity for wonder, for genuine emotion."

"We want to protect that," Bryce added. "To nurture it while showing you pleasures you've never imagined."

Nicole's phone chose that moment to ring, the sharp sound cutting through the intimate atmosphere like a knife. She glanced at the screen and felt reality crash back over her like a cold wave.

Work.

"I should answer this," she said reluctantly. "I was supposed to be in the office an hour ago."

"Let it ring," Eva suggested, her hand covering the phone. "What's the worst they can do? Fire you?"

The casual suggestion made Nicole's practical mind reel. "I need that job. I have bills, responsibilities—"

"We could take care of all of that," Bryce interrupted, his tone matter-of-fact rather than boastful. "Your rent, your bills, whatever you need. Money isn't an issue for us."

The offer should have been tempting. Instead, it made Nicole feel suddenly small and kept, like a pretty toy they wanted to add to their collection. "I can't just let you pay for my life. I barely know you."

"Then get to know us," Eva said simply. "Take a sick day. Spend time with us. Let us show you what your life could be like."

The phone stopped ringing, then immediately started again. Nicole stared at the screen, torn between the safety of her old life and the intoxicating possibility of something new. She thought of her cramped apartment, her mundane job, the endless cycle of disappointment that had become her existence.

Then she looked at Eva's hopeful face and Bryce's intense gaze, and felt that now-familiar flutter of excitement mixed with terror.

"One day," she heard herself say, letting the phone ring through to voicemail. "I'll take one sick day."

Eva's smile was brilliant. "That's all we need."

But as Bryce moved closer, his hand coming up to cup her cheek with surprising gentleness, Nicole wondered if one day would be nearly enough to satisfy the hunger they'd awakened in her—or if she was already in far too deep to ever find her way back to the surface.