Chapter 272
A
170
Jade’s POV:
The private jet touched down at Moscow International Aliport with barely a whisper. Through the window, I could see an impressive line of black SUVs waiting on the tarmac, flanked by at least twenty men in suits and tactical gear. Typical Night.
As I descended the stairs, the cold Russian air hit at my face. Night stood at the bottom, arms wide open, his curly hair dancing in the wind. The moment he spotted me, his face lit up with an almost childish excitement.
“Welcome, sweetie!” he called out.
I ignored his theatrics, tossing my backpack at him as I walked past. He caught it effortlessly, unbothered by my coldness.
“Baby” Night’s voice was warm honey, trailing after me. “Did you miss me?”
“I’m hungry.” I replied flatly, continuing toward the lead SUV without breaking stride.
Night immediately perked up, hurrying to catch up. “Home it is! Everything’s ready–all your favorites,”
Night’s private estate sat on the outskirts of Moscow, a sprawling property that would make oligarchs jealous. The meticulous Russian gardens to the left, with their symmetrical pathways and carefully pruned trees. To the right, a private pool complex gleamed under the afternoon sun.
The SUV pulled up to the main house, where a line of staff stood at attention–the housekeeper, chef, and various assistants, all looking nervous except for the oldest man, Mikhail, who had served Night’s family for decades.
I stepped out of the vehicle and walked straight past them toward the dining room, familiar with the layout from previous visits.
I took the seat at the head of the table without hesitation. Night smiled and sat to my right rather than challenging my claim to his usual place.
“Wine?” he offered, already uncorking a bottle of what looked like obscenely expensive red.
“Vodka first,” I said, “then wine.”
e room. “Some things never change. He produced a frosted bottle of premium Russian vodka and poured
Night’s laugh echoed through the two shots.
The first course arrived–caviar on blini with crème fraiche. I took a bite and nodded in approval.
“Good?” Night asked, watching me intensely.
“Yes,” I admitted.
Night beamed. “Then don’t go back. I’ll keep this chef here just for you. Every day, whatever you want.”
12:31 Sat, Sep 27
Chapter 272
“How’s your
father?” I asked between bites of perfectly cooked venison.
“Better, thanks to you.” Night’s voice grew serious. He asks about you. We’ll visit him some day?”
“Like a pretty daughter–in–law meeting the in–laws,” he teased.
“Fuck off,” I replied without heat.
Night chuckled. “Remember that surgery you performed? Three years ago? When every doctor in Russia said his brain aneurysm was inoperable?” He shook his head in wonder. “They still talk about it in medical circles–the mysterious Dr. Blackwell who appeared, saved the great man’s life, then vanished.”
“Speaking of injuries,” I said, “shouldn’t you be worried about Chris?”
Night’s face darkened. “Jensen? What happened to him?”
“Kidnapped, Tortured.”
“Hell live.”
1 finished my wine and set down the glass. “My computer–you still have it?”
“Of course, in my room, in the safe. I charge it regularly, check it monthly. No one’s touched it but me.”
Later that evening, I sat cross–legged on Night’s bed, my old laptop open before me. The screen glowed with familiar code as 1 accessed the iris recognition program I’d created years ago.
“I need to implant
iris lenses,” I said without looking up,
“My original pattern needs to be accessible.”
Night, leaning against the doorframe, nodded. “Give me a timeline, and III arrange it.”
A week later, I stood in front of a mirror in Night’s guest bathroom, carefully examining my eyes. The surgery had been flawless–the implanted lenses containing my original iris pattern were undetectable, even to me. I blinked a few times, testing the feel.
My visit to Night’s parents had gone as expected. I’d checked his recovery, confirmed the aneurysm repair was holding, and updated my medical credentials while I was there.
The new Russian medical license in my bag read “Dr. Jade Morgan” now.
12:31 Sat, Sep 27
Badass in Disguise.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.

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