The morning sun streamed through Arielle’s window as she prepared for another session with Julian Marcus. Her coffee sat untouched on the counter, her mind replaying the events of the previous evening. The audacity of that Maxern guy still irked her. Julian ’s men were as infuriating as the man himself.

As she grabbed her bag and headed out, Arielle resolved to confront Julian about it. She wasn’t going to let him or his minions intimidate her in her own home. She purposefully ignored the black tinted car she now knew belonged to Maxern , the man sent to watch her like she was a child.

The sterile hallways of the detention facility felt colder than usual as Arielle made her way to Julian ’s cell. The guards checked her in, and the heavy steel door creaked open, revealing the man who had become both her challenge and enigma, in just a couple of days.

Julian Marcus sat on the edge of his cot, his piercing ocean eyes locked on her the moment she entered. His relaxed posture belied the tension that seemed to hum in the air around him.

“Good morning, Dr. O’Neill ,” he greeted, his voice smooth and mocking. “To what do I owe the pleasure today?”

Arielle didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Marcus,” she began, placing her bag down with deliberate force. “If you’re going to send one of your lackeys to my home, the least you could do is teach them some manners.”

Julian ’s eyebrows shot up, genuine surprise flickering across his face. “My lackeys? Do elaborate.”

“Oh, I will,” Arielle said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Last night, a man named Maxern —one of your men, according to him—barged into my apartment uninvited. He broke the chain on my door, strutted in like he owned the place, and had the nerve to tell me he was there to ‘keep an eye on me.’ Care to explain?”

Julian leaned back, his lips twitching with amusement. “Ahh... Maxern . Not the smoothest operator, is he?”

Arielle threw her hands up. “That’s all you have to say? Do you realize how invasive and terrifying that was?”

Julian ’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, and then, to her astonishment, he let out a genuine chuckle. “You’re something else, Doc. Most people would be quaking in their boots after an encounter with Maxern . But you? You’re here ranting about his lack of etiquette.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “If you have an issue with me, address it directly. Don’t send your goons to do your dirty work.”

Julian ’s laughter faded, and he regarded her with a new level of interest. “Noted. Maxern ’ actions were… a bit too much. I’ll deal with him. I’ll also get him to fix your door chain.”

Arielle blinked, taken aback by his straightforwardness. “Good. Because if it happens again, I’ll report it. Also, I’m curious, but I don’t know if I want to know how you are able to communicate with your group, even while being locked up in here.”

“Duly noted, Dr. O’Neill ,” Julian said, his tone laced with mock seriousness.

The tension in the room dissipated slightly, and Arielle took a seat, pulling out her notebook. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s get to work. I have questions, and I’d appreciate straightforward answers.”

“I’ll try to be more cooperative,” Julian said, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

Surprisingly, he was. Though his answers were vague, they were more substantial than the evasions and riddles she’d gotten before.

“What motivates your syndicate’s activities?” she asked.

Julian ’s gaze darkened. “Motivation is irrelevant. Survival drives everything.”

“Survival?” Arielle probed. “Survival of whom? Your men? Yourself?”

He gave her a small, enigmatic smile. “Take your pick.”

She scribbled in her notebook, her mind racing. “And the organization keeping you here? What’s your take on them?”

Julian ’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, his carefully crafted composure cracked. “They’re hypocrites. Puppets of a corrupt system pretending to be saviours. That’s all I’ll say on that.”

Arielle noted the bitterness in his tone, the way his hands curled into fists. “Noted,” she said softly, sensing it was a sore subject.

The rest of the session flowed smoothly, Julian answering enough to keep her engaged but withholding just enough to maintain his air of mystery. As their time elapsed, he watched her gather her things.

“You’re odd, Dr. O’Neill ,” he remarked.

She paused, meeting his gaze. “Odd how?”

“You’re not afraid to push back, and you’re very determined,” he said. “That’s very rare.”

“Well, get used to it, Mr. Marcus,” she replied, her tone light but firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That evening, Arielle curled up on her couch with her phone, dialling Andy. As always, he picked up on the second ring.

“Arielle! Tell me you survived another day with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous.”

Arielle laughed. “Really? That’s your nickname for him? We’ll if you must know, I survived, but barely. You won’t believe what happened.”

“Oooh, spill it,” Andy said eagerly.

Arielle launched into a recount of her day, from her confrontation with Julian about Maxern to the surprisingly productive session that followed.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Andy interrupted. “He laughed? Like, a real laugh? Are we sure this is the same mafia Don who strikes fear into the hearts of men? This is so going in my drafts.”

“I know, right?” Arielle said, grinning. “It was unexpected. But I think I’m starting to get through to him.”

Andy’s tone turned serious. “Be careful, Nic. These people don’t play by the rules. If you’re feeling unsafe, dint hesitate to pull out. Your life isn’t worth this job.”

Arielle’s smile faltered. “I know, Andy. I won’t quit, at least not yet. Besides, the organization’s security is solid. I’m fine.”

“Famous last words,” Andy muttered. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”

“I promise,” she said, though the uneasy feeling from the previous night lingered in the back of her mind.

As their conversation shifted to lighter topics, Arielle felt her mood lift. Andy’s knack for turning everything into a joke was exactly what she needed. But the moment was short-lived.

A soft knock at the door interrupted their laughter. Arielle froze, her pulse quickening.

“Andy, I have to go. Someone’s at the door.”

“Be careful,” he urged. “Call me back if you need anything.”

Arielle hung up and approached the door cautiously. Peering through the peephole, she saw nothing but the faint outline of someone standing just out of view.

“Who is it?” she called out, her voice steady despite her nerves.

“Just me,” came a familiar, rough voice.

Arielle’s stomach sank. Julian ’s man was back. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to find Maxern standing there, looking as unbothered as ever.

“What now?” she demanded.

Maxern raised an eyebrow. “Relax. I’m not here to bother you. Just wanted to drop off a message.”

“A message from Mr. Marcus?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“In a way,” Maxern said cryptically. “He wanted you to know that your door will be fixed sometime tomorrow. Also, I thought I told you not to tell on me?”

Arielle frowned. “Are you here to fight back?”

Maxern smirked. “Nah. I very much like my head off the ground.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving Arielle standing in the doorway, more confused than ever. As she closed the door, sighed, exasperated.