Chapter 30 - The Passion

Steve smiled as Heather made her grand exit, laying the groundwork for their deception with the skill of a seasoned actress. He marveled at her, this formidable grandmother of his, a woman of endless, surprising talents.

The heavy door clicked shut behind her, and Steve moved quickly. He found the remote and flicked the massive television on, scrolling until he found a Yankees game. He cranked the volume until the enthusiastic roar of the crowd and the crack of a bat filled the penthouse, a perfect blanket of white noise. He dashed into the bedroom, shucking off the ridiculously expensive suit and pulling on his familiar, comfortable jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He felt immediately more like himself.

Slipping out of the suite, he took the elevator down to the lavish hotel lobby. His destination was a small, overpriced boutique selling branded apparel. He bought a simple navy Yankees cap and the largest, most ridiculous pair of designer sunglasses he could find. He pulled the cap low over his brow and slid the glasses on, his reflection in the polished brass of the elevator doors becoming a anonymous stranger. Perfect.

Steve stayed in the shadow of the hotel entrance, his Yankees cap pulled low and oversized sunglasses obscuring his face. He nodded to the doorman, who raised a gloved hand to signal for a cab. The screech of tires on asphalt signaled its arrival, and Steve moved swiftly, sliding into the backseat like a ghost.

“Where to?” the driver asked, his voice a bored echo in the rearview mirror.

Steve gave him an address for the electronics store he’d spotted earlier. Better to play it safe, he thought, his eyes darting to the side mirrors, scanning for any sign of a tail. The humid street buzzed with activity—pedestrians, delivery trucks, and the occasional blare of a car horn—but nothing seemed out of place. Still, paranoia gnawed at him. How could he be sure no one was following?

The cab jolted forward, weaving through the chaotic New York traffic. Steve’s mind raced. We’ll need a security expert, he thought, his fingers drumming nervously on his knee. A good one—someone discreet who can scan for bugs and teach us how to evade anyone following us. He made a mental note to bring it up with Heather as soon as he got back.

The ride felt endless, every turn and stoplight amplifying his unease. Finally, the cab pulled over near the nondescript electronics store. Steve handed the driver a crumpled bill, slipped out onto the busy sidewalk, and melted into the crowd, his heart pounding like a war drum.

The transaction was swift and anonymous. Five cheap, pay-as-you-go burner phones, cash. He took the bag and left, the weight of them reminding him how weird his life had become so suddenly. The return trip was a study in paranoia; he watched reflections in shop windows, studying the faces of everyone he passed, half-expecting a hand to clamp down on his shoulder. But no one gave the kid in the baseball cap a second glance.

He slipped back into the hotel and up to the penthouse with the keycard. The baseball game was still blaring. He let out a long, pent-up breath, the tension in his shoulders easing. Phase one complete. He changed back into his suit, folding his old clothes neatly, and placed the bag with the burner phones at the bottom of the closet after opening and keeping one. He was just adjusting his tie in the mirror when the penthouse door opened.

Heather stepped inside, her expression a masterpiece of feigned frustration. She threw her hands up in a theatrical gesture. “They never showed!” she announced to the empty room, her voice pitched to carry. “I waited for an hour. Nothing. It’s infuriating! I can’t believe they got cold feet. Something must have gone wrong.” She let the door slam shut behind her, the sound echoing in the large space.

She turned to Steve, both walking out to the balcony, and her performative frown melted into a sly, genuine grin. “Well? Any trouble?”

“None,” he said, matching her smile. “The game provided great cover. Mission accomplished.”

“My brilliant boy,” she purred, crossing the room to him. She didn’t stop until she was right in front of him, her body just inches from his. Her fingers came up to straighten his tie, but the gesture was slow, intimate. Her green eyes searched his. “You handled that like a natural. It’s incredibly sexy, you know. Seeing you take charge like this.”

Her scent, a mix of expensive perfume and her own unique warmth, enveloped him. His heart, which had just settled from the clandestine mission, began to pound for an entirely different reason. He leaned in, his breath catching as he closed the distance between them. Her lips were soft, inviting, and when they met his, it was like the world stopped spinning. He kissed her gently, tenderly, pouring every ounce of the love and passion he felt for her into that single, electrifying moment.