RUTH

As we wandered through the gardens, the scent of blooming flowers mingled with the crisp evening air. The gentle rustling of leaves provided a soothing backdrop, yet my mind was anything but calm. I glanced at Dylan, his face partially shadowed by the setting sun, and couldn't hold back my curiosity any longer.

"Why would Dustin need your business files?" I asked, breaking the silence. "What's he planning to do with locations and all that—steal the drugs or something? I don't even know what you do in the underworld."

Dylan stopped walking and turned to face me, his expression a mix of surprise and contemplation. "It's complicated," he began, his voice steady but tinged with reluctance. "Dustin is more interested in leverage than the actual drugs. Information is power in our world. With those files, he could control territories, manipulate supply chains, and destabilise rival operations."

His explanation only raised more questions in my mind. "But what exactly do you do? I mean, in the underworld?" I pressed, my curiosity growing.

Dylan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I manage a network that oversees distribution and security for various commodities. It's not just about drugs. There are a lot of moving parts, and everyone has their agenda. Dustin thinks he can use my files to tip the balance in his favour."

As he spoke, I realised how little I knew about this side of his life. The gardens suddenly felt like a fragile sanctuary, threatened by the harsh realities of the world Dylan was entangled in.

We resumed our walk through the gardens, the evening air heavy with unspoken questions. I couldn't shake the unease gnawing at my mind, so I decided to probe further.

"How does he know which file to look for? Isn't it hard to identify which file has that information? You must have so many business files. Do the signature places indicate anything?" I asked, my voice tinged with curiosity.

Dylan's lips curled into a faint, almost rueful smile. "It's not that simple," he replied. "I keep different information in separate folders, categorised meticulously. But Dustin's not stupid. He must have come to my office when James led the meeting. I placed the file in the drawer right in front of him, thinking it was secure. He must have seen it there and remembered."

I frowned, trying to piece everything together. "So, enemies just come to meetings like that?" I asked, incredulity creeping into my voice.

Dylan shook his head, his expression serious. "Business and underworld sh*t are different. In business, you have to keep up a reputation. You can't just go at each other's throats openly. There are rules and unspoken codes. Meetings are neutral grounds where deals are made, and sometimes enemies sit across the table. It's a precarious balance, but necessary to avoid chaos."

As we walked, his words echoed in my mind, painting a picture of a world where power and respect were intertwined, a world where even enemies could share a table if it meant maintaining order.

We continued along the garden path, the gravel crunching softly beneath our feet. The weight of the conversation pressed on my mind, and I knew there was still so much more to understand.

"So, you and Dustin... You have to play nice even if you can't stand each other." I asked, glancing at Dylan.

He nodded. "It's all about keeping the peace. Open conflict is bad for business. If we let our personal grudges get in the way, it affects everyone in the network. It's a delicate balance."

I considered this for a moment before another question surfaced. "But how do you trust anyone in that world? It sounds like betrayal could happen at any moment."

Dylan's expression hardened slightly. "Trust is a rare commodity. Most of the time, you don't trust anyone fully. You make alliances based on mutual benefit and leverage. You always have to be prepared for the possibility of betrayal."

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought. "That sounds exhausting."

He sighed, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "It is. But it's the life I chose. Or rather, the life that chose me."

We walked in silence for a few moments, the tension between us growing heavier.

As the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the garden path, Dylan glanced around, a hint of caution returning to his eyes. "We should head back now," he suggested, his voice steady but carrying a sense of urgency.

I nodded, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin. "Yeah, it's getting late."

We turned and began retracing our steps through the winding paths. The once serene garden now felt like a labyrinth of secrets. Despite the heavy conversation, I could sense Dylan pulling back, his guard going up once more. My heart pounded, a mix of fear and unresolved hurt making my steps hesitant.

"Do you ever get tired of it?" I asked, breaking the silence. "All the secrecy and danger?"

Dylan chuckled softly, but there was no humour in it. "Every day. But it's not something you can just walk away from without consequences. I've made choices, and now I have to live with them."

I nodded and remained quiet. We went out of the place, each step full of unspoken words. The aroma of flowering flowers filled the air, providing a dramatic contrast to the conflict in my emotions. As we approached the car, the familiar sound of our footfall on the gravel added to the sense of finality.

We arrived at the location where we had parked our car, and the sun cast a beautiful, fading light over the scene. I looked at Dylan, hoping for any indication that he understood the fury roaring inside me, but he remained as inscrutable as ever.

The car ride was enveloped in silence, a stark contrast to the days before, filled with conversations and shared thoughts. He kept his eyes on the road, a serious expression etched on his face, not breaking the silence even once. I wondered what weighed so heavily on his mind, but I decided to leave him to his thoughts.

As we pulled into the driveway, I took a deep breath, relieved to be back at his house but anxious about what lay ahead. We stepped out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against our faces. Just as I reached for the front door, he stopped me with a gentle touch on my arm.

"Freshen up first," he said, his voice low but firm. "We need to go over the edits for the file, and I will look over them and explain what they contain." I nodded, taking in the exhaustion on his face. "Alright. I'll be quick."

I went to my room and quickly stepped into the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the unease that had settled in the pit of my stomach. Staring at my reflection, I couldn't help but wonder how things had come to this. Despite my reluctance, I found my gaze lingering on him, drawn to the effortless grace in his movements.

I knocked before going inside.''Come in'''said a cold, sharp voice.

Dylan leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled together as he regarded you with a thoughtful expression. "You know, I always keep a copy of every file at home, locked away safely. That way, I can make any necessary modifications without the risk of losing important documents," he explained, his voice calm but carrying an underlying urgency. "Once the changes are made, you can take them to Marcs. It will give him some exposure to the details without causing too many disasters on my end. I'll give it to you when it's done. It will only take a couple of hours. Until then, you can either wait on these documents or finish those pending files that I've been waiting on for the past few days. I hope you still have your iPad with you, or did you lose it in the middle of all the commotion?"

"Oh no, I didn't lose it at all. I have it here with me," I said as I took the iPad from my handbag and smiled a little.

"That's good," Dylan replied, a hint of relief in his voice. "You can sit here or wherever you're comfortable. Just make sure everything is in order."

I nodded and found a cosy spot near the window, where the sunlight streamed in and provided a pleasant warmth. Settling into the chair, I powered on the iPad and opened the files Dylan had mentioned. The familiar interface and the task ahead helped me focus, pushing aside the lingering anxiety from earlier events.

The hours passed quickly as I immersed myself in the work. The soft tapping of my fingers on the screen was the only sound in the room, occasionally interrupted by the rustle of papers as Dylan reviewed his own documents. The soft hum of the air conditioner provided a gentle backdrop, its cool breeze contrasting with the warmth of the sunlight streaming through the window.

As I navigated through the files, I occasionally glanced up to see Dylan deep in concentration, his brow furrowed as he meticulously went through his paperwork. His desk was a picture of organised chaos, with stacks of papers, sticky notes, and various office supplies scattered about. Despite the clutter, there was a method to his madness, with each item seemingly placed with purpose.

Every so often, Dylan would glance up, his eyes filled with a mixture of concentration and appreciation. He would give me a slight nod or a brief smile, acknowledging my presence and the progress I was making. It was a silent exchange of mutual respect and understanding, each of us engrossed in our tasks but keenly aware of the other's efforts.

I stole a few glances at Dylan as he worked, unable to resist the pull of my curiosity. He was deeply focused, his brow furrowed in concentration, but I couldn't help but notice how incredibly dashing he looked at the same time. I hate admitting it, but I can't deny the truth. His muscles were all tense and worked up, the sinews in his arms flexing with each movement. His shoulder blades formed the architecture of a perfectly built body, each contour and line a testament to his strength and dedication.

Despite my reluctance, I found my gaze lingering on him, drawn to the effortless grace with which he carried himself. It was maddening how he could be so absorbed in his task and yet so captivatingly attractive, which set immediate butterflies in my stomach.

Out of all the men I could possibly fall for, I fell for Dylan Fynder, and it might be the most reckless thing I have ever done. It feels so wrong on so many levels. Just a few weeks ago, my heart was filled with nothing but hatred for him. I could barely stand anything about him without feeling a surge of anger, fear, and resentment. Yet now, to my utter disbelief, the ice around my heart has started to melt, just a little. The walls I had so carefully built to keep him out are beginning to crumble, and it's terrifying. How did I go from despising his very presence to being unable to deny the growing warmth I feel whenever he's near?

The light from the window shifted gradually, casting elongated shadows that danced across the room as the sun moved across the sky.

I paused occasionally to stretch or to see the serene view outside. The garden was in full bloom, with vibrant flowers swaying gently in the breeze. The sight provided a momentary escape, a brief respite before diving back into the digital realm of spreadsheets and documents.

He would occasionally sigh or murmur to himself, which was a constant disturbance in the afternoon he worked on. At one point, he stood up and walked to the bookshelf before pulling out a huge book and skilfully flipping through its pages. He had on his face a contented look as if he had found what he wanted, marked the page by inserting a slip of paper, and went back to his table.

My concentration did not falter for long, and completing each task seemed like a major achievement in itself. The iPad showed one checkbox after another because of the motivation. That overwhelming feeling of contentment washed over me, as I knew my efforts had summed up the big picture.

Eventually, Dylan approached, holding a neatly organised stack of papers. "Here are the updated files," he said, handing them to me. His voice was calm and sounded tiring.

I held the file in my hands, carefully placing my iPad beside me. "Oh, perfect. I'll get this to him tomorrow," I said, my voice betraying a slight hesitation. "Is there anything specific I need to know or talk to him about?"

This was no ordinary file. It contained details of Dylan's underworld dealings—information that could get someone killed if it fell into the wrong hands. While he had stripped out most of the critical data, the remaining contents were still enough to keep Dustin satisfied. The weight of the responsibility began to settle in, and a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach.

"Not really," he replied, his tone steady and firm. "This is a sealed envelope. Your only job is to hand it to him. If he asks how you managed to get it without my noticing, you'll tell him that you took it when I wasn't in my office. Explain that the camera in my office glitches every 20 seconds, and you jammed the security feed for seven minutes—just enough time to print the file, replace the original, and cover your tracks. It's hacking, but subtle enough to avoid raising alarms. Got it?"

His eyes locked onto mine, an intense mix of fire and ice, as if daring me to falter. I nodded, swallowing hard as the gravity of the task pressed down on me.

THE NEXT DAY:

I woke up around 8 a.m., the weight of the day already pressing on my chest. The sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside me. I forced myself out of bed, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth of the sheets I had just left behind. Each step towardss the bathroom felt deliberate, as if I were marching towardss something inevitable.

The moment I entered, the familiarity of the routine began to take over. I splashed cold water on my face, the shock of it momentarily chasing away the lingering drowsiness. As I reached for the towel, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. There I was—hair slightly tousled, eyes sharper than they had any right to be this early in the morning. But beneath that sharpness lay a flicker of nerves, a hint of the anxiety that threatened to bubble up.

I stared at myself, letting the silence of the morning wrap around me like a cocoon. Today was crucial. I could feel the importance of it pulsing just beneath my skin. Whatever was coming, I had to be ready. I had to be my best. The plan was simple yet demanding: stay cool, stay calm, and stay collected. 

I took a deep breath, inhaling deeply, and then exhaled slowly, watching my reflection do the same. My heartbeat steadied as resolve began to replace the anxiety.

With one final glance in the mirror, I turned away, ready to face whatever the day would bring.

I retrieved the file Dylan had given me the day before, feeling its weight in my hands as I took another look at the contents. The information inside was critical, and I knew it could change everything. After a moment of mental preparation, I headed downstairs. The house was still and quiet, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts in my mind. I looked around for Dylan, hoping for a brief exchange before I left, but it seemed he had already gone to work.

With a sigh, I pulled out my phone and typed a quick message to Marcus: "Leaving now. I'll be there in 25 minutes."

The drive was tense, and the quiet hum of the engine did little to calm the nerves that were starting to build again. My mind raced, flipping through the details in the file, the potential outcomes, and what I needed to accomplish today. As I pulled up to the designated location, I spotted Marcus waiting by his car, his posture casual but his eyes sharp, scanning the area.

I approached him with the file in hand, feeling a mix of anticipation and anxiety. He watched me closely as I handed it over, his fingers brushing against mine for a brief second before he took it from me. He didn't open it right away, instead letting the silence stretch between us. When he finally did speak, his voice was laced with a taunting edge, but there was something else beneath it—fear, barely concealed.

"I didn't think you'd actually show up," Marcus said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He flipped through the file with an air of nonchalance, but I could see the tension in the way his hands gripped the papers. "Must've been a rough morning for you, huh? I bet you were debating whether to even bring this to me."

His words stung, but I kept my composure, refusing to let him see the unease he was trying to provoke. "I told you I'd be here, didn't I?" I replied, my voice steady. "I'm not the one you should be worried about."

Marcus paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me. For a moment, the taunting grin faltered, and I caught a glimpse of the fear he was trying to hide. He knew as well as I did that what was in that file could unravel everything.

"Guess we'll see about that doll," he muttered, closing the file with a sharp snap. He tucked it under his arm, his expression shifting back to that familiar mix of arrogance and dread. "But you'd better hope you're right. If this goes south, you're the one who's going to pay."

With those words hanging in the air, he turned and started towards his car, leaving me standing there with a mix of relief and apprehension. I watched him go, my thoughts still racing, knowing that this was only the beginning. The file was out of my hands now, but the consequences of what came next were still very much my responsibility.

After the tense exchange with Marcus, I pulled out my phone and quickly typed a message to Dylan: "Gave him the files. Heading home now." Hitting send, I felt a mix of relief and exhaustion wash over me. The day had taken its toll, but at least that part was done.

The weeks that followed blurred into a routine of constant vigilance and subtle anxiety. Each day felt like walking on a tightrope, never knowing when things might unravel. I delivered three more files to Marcus over the next month, each as nerve-wracking as the first. With every handoff, Marcus's demeanour remained the same—taunting, with that underlying fear always present, as if he was trying to convince himself he was in control.

The cycle of retrieving files, reviewing their contents, and handing them over to Marcus became almost mechanical. But beneath the surface, I could feel the tension building. Each delivery brought us closer to something inevitable, though I wasn't sure what it would be.