The Hours Before
Paris never paused for private disasters.
Amaiyla stood at the vanity long after she should have finished getting ready, fingers braced against cool marble, staring at a reflection that looked composed enough to lie convincingly. The room smelled faintly of citrus polish and fresh linen—luxury so carefully curated it felt staged. A set. A performance space.
Dinner.
Tammy had said it like an invitation.
It wasn't.
It was a summons.
Outside the window, Paris slid toward night in gradients of gold and indigo. The city lights blinked on one by one, indifferent. Alive. The world continuing while hers tightened into something smaller, sharper.
She exhaled slowly, counting the breath the way she'd been taught as a child. Control the body. The mind will follow.
A knock came from behind her.
Not hesitant. Not loud.
Xander.
"Come in," she said, forcing steadiness into her voice.
He entered already dressed—black suit, tailored with ruthless precision, no tie. The mask was back. The one that made him unreadable to everyone except the people who'd learned what to look for.
Amaiyla noticed immediately.
It hurt more than she expected.
"You don't have to do this," he said.
She turned, studying him. "You're saying that now?"
"Yes," he replied evenly. "Because now I mean it."
She gave a quiet, humorless laugh. "You told my father no."
"I delayed him."
"That's not the same thing."
"No," Xander agreed. "It's worse. It tells him I'm willing to defy him selectively."
Amaiyla's stomach tightened. "And that puts you at risk."
His gaze sharpened, locking onto hers. "You think this is about me?"
She hesitated. "Isn't it?"
Xander stepped closer, lowering his voice. "John Hollingsworth doesn't punish men directly. He punishes proximity."
The words settled like frost.
"Connor," she whispered.
"Yes."
Her throat tightened around the name. "He messaged me."
Xander went still. Completely.
"What did he say?"
"That he's coming."
Something cold slid into Xander's expression, replacing calculation with certainty. "When?"
"He didn't say."
Xander exhaled slowly, controlled. "Then tonight isn't just about your father."
Amaiyla shook her head. "I never wanted this to be a war."
"Wars don't ask permission," Xander replied.
Silence stretched between them, thick with what they were both avoiding.
"I'm scared," she said finally.
He didn't dismiss it. Didn't soften it.
"So am I," he admitted. "That's how I know this matters."
Her breath caught. "You don't say things like that."
"No," he agreed. "I usually calculate instead."
He reached toward her wrist, stopping just short of touching.
"Whatever happens tonight," he said quietly, "you do not speak alone."
She nodded. "And if Connor shows up?"
Xander's jaw tightened. "Then I handle him."
"Carefully."
His mouth curved—not a smile. Something sharper. "I don't do careless."
Beat Two — Tammy Sets the Table
The restaurant hovered above the city, glass walls opening Paris like a living map of light. Candles flickered low and intimate. Tables spaced deliberately far apart. Privacy disguised as elegance.
Secrets lived comfortably here.
Tammy Veraga was already seated.
She looked relaxed.
That was never a good sign.
"Right on time," Tammy said, rising smoothly. "I was worried you'd reconsider."
Amaiyla forced a polite smile. "You don't seem worried about much."
Tammy studied her. "I worry strategically."
They sat.
Wine appeared without being ordered.
Xander didn't touch his glass.
Tammy noticed. "Still pretending you're immune to temptation?"
Xander replied calmly, "Still pretending you're neutral?"
Tammy laughed softly. "Touché."
She turned to Amaiyla. "How are you holding up?"
Amaiyla met her gaze. "Depends who's asking."
Tammy's eyes warmed—just slightly. "Fair."
The waiter vanished.
Silence followed.
Then Tammy leaned forward. "Your father called you today."
Amaiyla's chest tightened. "Yes."
"And?"
"He wants me back in England."
Tammy glanced at Xander. Then back to Amaiyla. "And do you want to go?"
Amaiyla hesitated.
Xander cut in, voice controlled. "This interrogation ends now."
Tammy's brow lifted. "I'm not interrogating. I'm clarifying."
"Clarifying what?"
"Whether Amaiyla understands what she's risking."
Amaiyla straightened. "I do."
Tammy tilted her head. "Do you?"
Amaiyla's voice steadied. "If I stay, my father retaliates. If I leave, I disappear."
Tammy smiled faintly. "Good. You see the board."
Xander's tone cooled. "Then stop manipulating her."
"If I wanted to manipulate her," Tammy replied, unbothered, "she'd already be in England."
Amaiyla's pulse jumped. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Tammy said gently, "you're not as powerless as you think."
Xander's jaw flexed. "You're enjoying this."
"Pressure reveals character," Tammy replied.
Amaiyla's heart pounded. "Then what do you want from me?"
Tammy leaned closer. "Answer one question honestly."
Amaiyla swallowed. "What question?"
"If your father wasn't watching," Tammy asked quietly, "who would you choose?"
The silence detonated.
Xander went rigid beside her.
Amaiyla's chest burned. "That's not fair."
Tammy smiled softly. "Neither is your life."
Amaiyla glanced at Xander.
Just once.
That was enough.
Tammy's gaze sharpened. "Ah."
"Conversation over," Xander said sharply.
Tammy leaned back. "Even your silence is loud."
Amaiyla's voice trembled. "Why are you doing this?"
For the first time, Tammy's expression shifted—something old, something real flickering beneath the polish.
"Because men like your father survive by convincing women they're alone," she said. "And I don't enjoy watching intelligent women shrink."
Amaiyla's breath caught.
"And because," Tammy added quietly, "you're standing where I once stood."
Xander looked at her sharply. "You don't know that."
Tammy met his gaze. "I know exactly that."
Beat Three — Connor Arrives
The elevator doors opened.
Amaiyla felt it before she saw him.
Connor Jackson stepped out like a man walking into judgment—suit immaculate, shoulders tight, eyes hollowed by weeks of pressure he hadn't been allowed to name. His gaze locked onto Amaiyla instantly.
Relief.
Then devastation.
"Amaiyla," he said, voice rough.
Xander stood immediately.
Connor's eyes flicked to him.
Something ugly sparked.
"So it's true," Connor said quietly. "You didn't even wait."
Amaiyla rose, heart racing. "Connor—this isn't—"
"What?" he cut in, pain sharp. "What isn't it? You disappear to Paris with him and I'm supposed to believe nothing happened?"
"Lower your voice," Xander said calmly.
"You don't get to command me," Connor snapped.
"I do," Xander replied evenly, "when you're in my space."
Connor stepped closer. "You stole her."
"Stop," Amaiyla said.
Connor's expression softened immediately. "I came because they're destroying me, Amaiyla. And I needed to see you before they finish."
Her chest tightened. "I didn't know how bad it was."
"Your father opened doors that should've stayed closed."
Xander's gaze hardened. "Careful."
Connor turned on him. "You're behind this."
"No," Xander replied. "You're behind this."
Connor laughed bitterly. "You think you're better than me?"
"I think you're emotional," Xander said coolly. "And emotional men make excellent leverage."
Connor's fists clenched. "At least I loved her before this became a transaction."
Amaiyla gasped softly.
Xander didn't flinch. "Love doesn't excuse recklessness."
"And control doesn't excuse possession," Connor shot back.
"Enough!" Amaiyla's voice cracked.
Both men froze.
"I am not something you fight over," she said, hands shaking. "I am not a prize. Or leverage. Or proof."
Connor's voice broke. "Then why does it feel like I'm losing you?"
"Because things changed," she said.
"Because you chose him?"
She hesitated.
Connor nodded slowly, devastation hardening into resolve.
"I see."
He turned to Xander. "Enjoy her. But men like you don't protect. You replace."
Xander stepped closer. "And men like you don't let go. They retaliate."
Connor's gaze flicked back to Amaiyla.
"If you need me," he said quietly, "I'll still come."
Then he left.
Amaiyla sank back into her chair, breath shattered.
Xander reached for her.
She pulled away.
"I need a minute," she whispered.
Beat Four — The Cost Settles In
Tammy surveyed the aftermath like a chessboard.
"Well," she said softly. "That escalated."
Amaiyla laughed weakly. "You think?"
"You handled that better than most," Tammy said.
"You knew he'd come," Amaiyla said.
Tammy didn't deny it. "I suspected."
"You used him," Xander said coldly.
"I revealed pressure," Tammy replied. "There's a difference."
Amaiyla stood. "I'm done being moved."
Tammy smiled. "Good."
Amaiyla turned to Xander. "I can't go back to England."
"I know."
"And I can't pretend nothing happened tonight."
"I know."
"So what happens now?"
Xander stepped closer. "Now your father makes a move that can't be undone."
"And you?"
His gaze held hers. "I make sure he doesn't win."
Tammy rose. "Welcome to the real game."
At the door, she paused. "Choose carefully. From here on—every choice costs someone."
She left.
Xander's voice was quiet. "You're not alone."
Amaiyla exhaled shakily. "I never was."
Outside, Paris burned bright.
The cage hadn't broken.
It had evolved.
And this time, Amaiyla chose to fight inside it.