“Wow,” I say, impressed. Damien had identified the original reporter who broadcast the story a while back, but the reporter had refused to reveal his source.

“It’s going to take a while. The camera’s focus is concentrated on a certain perimeter. But Arnold thinks he has a way to pop the focus on the background activity.”

“That will take time,” I agree. “Especially since we don’t know what day he might have met with the source.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right,” Damien says. “But we have a rough time frame, and at the very least he can start pulling prints and getting them to me. With luck, there will be someone I recognize.”

“Shouldn’t I look, too?”

“You should,” he says. “But the odds are good that whoever is doing this is trying to get to me. I have Ryan’s team investigating the players in a few particularly contentious deals I have brewing,” he adds, referring to his security guys.

“Distract you by harassing your girlfriend, and maybe you won’t be such a hard-ass in negotiations?”

“Something like that.”

“It might not be business,” I say. “You’ve slept with a lot of women, Damien. Even if you weren’t serious about them, that doesn’t mean they weren’t serious about you. And one of them might be the jealous type.”

“Agreed. And we’re pursuing that avenue, as well.”

“What about the anonymous letter that came to Stark Tower? Or the text I got in Munich?”

“Nothing yet,” Damien says. “But we haven’t given up.” He glances at his watch, then he pulls out his phone and makes a call. “Anything?” he says, then frowns as the person on the other end speaks. “Good thinking,” he finally says. “That just might work out well for us.”

“That was Ryan,” he says to me after he ends the call. “The cameras at the entrance and the parking garage caught our culprit. Tall, wiry. Completely covered in a black hoodie and sunglasses. Kept his or her head down, but Ethan says the gait looks to be male, and quite possibly a teenager.”

“A teenager? But—”

“I’m guessing someone hired him. Our perp loiters around the convenience store, asks a kid if they’d like to earn a few extra bucks.”

“Oh.” It makes sense.

“Fortunately, there are cameras in strip malls. We might get lucky.”

I nod. It’s a solid plan, but I’m not holding my breath.

“I’m going to assign someone from my security team to you.”

My head snaps up. “The hell you are. I’m not living my life under surveillance.”

“It’s necessary.”

“You don’t have the Secret Service following you around.” It’s one thing to stay with Damien, to take reasonable precautions with my life. It’s something else entirely to suddenly live in a glass jar like a politician or a celebrity.

“I have a team available when I need them. But there’s no indication I’m in danger.”

I start to say that I’m not in danger, either. But considering I’d just agreed to move into Damien’s house because of flying rocks, I can’t really backtrack now. As much as I don’t want some dude in a black suit with an earpiece monitoring my every move, I also don’t want to be stupid about this.

“Nikki,” he says gently. “Do you think I could survive if something happened to you?”

I draw in a breath because I know how he feels. If something happened to Damien, I am certain that I would shrivel up and die.

“All right,” I say. “But not someone who flanks me, and not an obvious tail. But if you want to have someone hang out at the office if I end up renting it, I won’t object. And I’m guessing you already have access to that tracking device we had installed in the car.”

“I could access it,” he says. “But not without some trouble. I’d rather install something I can monitor openly.”

“Done,” I say.

“And your phone,” he says.

I frown. “What about my phone?”

“I want to be able to track you with it. There are apps that will allow me to do that. I’m going to install one.”

“Just like that? No ‘Mother May I’?”

“No,” he says and holds his hand out for my phone.

I hand it over.

He downloads the app, fiddles with the settings, then gives it back to me.

The he takes his own phone out of his back pocket and repeats the process. A moment later, my phone buzzes. I glance at it, open the new app, and see a red dot indicating that Damien is right there in my apartment. “So you’ll never lose me, either,” he says.

“Oh.” I hold tight to my phone, still warm from his hand, and suddenly I’m speechless. Maybe it’s the stress of the evening, maybe it’s hormonal, but for some reason, adding that tracker to my phone is about the most romantic thing I can think of. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“I’m never letting you go, Nikki,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me close.

“I’d never forgive you if you did.”

The next morning I stand transfixed as Lisa spreads her arms wide to indicate the modest office space. “So?” she asks. She’s petite, but so poised that she seems to fill the room anyway. “What do you think?”

“I love it,” I say. The space comes furnished, and apparently the owner of Granite Investment Strategies has excellent taste. Not only is the desk large enough to spread out half-a-dozen projects, but it’s also sleek and modern with enough whimsy to be fun, but not so much that it lacks professionalism. The walls are bare, but that should be easy enough to fix.

The love seat is a bonus. The space is small enough that it would have made sense to only have the two molded plastic guest chairs. But the original tenant had managed to work the space well, and the small sofa that sits against the far wall seems to pull the room together instead of overwhelming the space.

“It’s available immediately,” Lisa says. “My client’s very eager.”

I run my fingertip over the desktop, tempted. I’ve been on the fence about leasing office space, but now that I’m actually standing in an office that could have my name on the door, I have to admit that it’s pretty heady stuff.

I slide my hand into my pocket and run my fingertip over the edge of one of the business cards that Damien presented to me this morning. Nikki L. Fairchild, CEO, Fairchild Development. I’d laughed when I opened the box, but there had been tears, too. Not just because I’m finally, really doing this, but because of the pride I saw in Damien’s eyes.