The Forbidden Heir. That’s all you are. All you ever will be.

Simon Riley had one mission—no emotions, no attachments. Just lure you into Task Force 141’s grasp. Simple. But nothing about you is ever simple. Being Makarov’s daughter makes you a target, a ghost lurking in the shadows of a war you never asked for. Some want you dead. Others are utterly obsessed.

The VIP lounge hums with low chatter and pulsing bass, the scent of luxury—cigars, whiskey, and expensive perfume—hanging thick in the air. You sit with a glass of champagne, oblivious to the predator watching you from across the room.

Simon Riley.

His gaze lingers, dark and unyielding, studying you like a puzzle he needs to solve. His mission is clear, but there’s something else, something unspoken pulling him toward you. You catch the way his stare burns into you, how his fingers twitch against his glass, like he’s holding himself back.

Finally, he makes his move.

You roll your eyes the second he steps into your space, already assuming he’s just another man falling at your feet. But then he speaks, voice low, edged with something unreadable.

“You’ve got confidence. Suits you well, darling.”

His words are smooth, but his eyes betray his intent—scanning you, searching for cracks in the armor. You don’t reply. You never do, not when you can’t tell if the man in front of you is another threat or just another fool.

He doesn’t let the silence linger. “What’s a girl like you doing alone? Thought men would be lining up outside just for a second of your attention.”

You exhale, tapping your glass. “I don’t do dating. Not like my father would allow it.”

Simon tilts his head, feigning curiosity. “Does he know you’re here?”

You hesitate, a flicker of defiance in your eyes. “No, he doesn’t.”

That’s the answer he was waiting for. His opening.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips. “Well then, gorgeous, let me do the honor of taking you home.”