Page 32 of His Vow

"Your turn." He nodded toward the bench. The black lace sat atop the pile, delicate against the tissue paper.

I looked at the lace. Looked at him. His expression was innocent. His eyes were not.

I picked up the pile, pressed my free hand flat against his chest, and pushed him toward the door. "Out."

He didn't move. His eyebrows rose. "I could stay." His voice was low, amused, his hands finding my hips again. "Quality control."

"Out, Nolan." I pushed harder. He let himself be moved, his hands lifting from my hips in mock surrender, the ghost returning to the corner of his mouth.

He straightened the navy jacket, buttoned it, and stepped through the door. He pulled it shut behind him. His footsteps moved away, slow and unhurried.

I stood alone in the fitting room. The mirror was still fogged. My reflection stared back — flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hair escaping every pin I'd put in that morning. I pressed my fingers against my mouth where his had been.

I was in so much trouble.

TEN

NOLAN

The Helios Partners payment was $187,000. Quarterly. Same routing number. Same subsidiary account. I scrolled through six years of records on my screen, the blue glow reflecting off the glass wall of my temporary office on Lattimore's fourteenth floor. No deliverables attached. No staff listed. No invoices, no contracts, no correspondence. Just money, flowing out every ninety days like a pulse.

My system badge sat on the desk beside a cup of coffee I hadn't touched. The badge had my name on it and opened doors. Three weeks of showing up early, reading everything placed in front of me, attending meetings where I said just enough and never too much. Gerald Ashworth had invited me to lunch twice. A board member named Winters shook my hand in the elevator last Tuesday and said Hugh spoke highly of me.

I angled the monitor away from the glass wall, pulled out the phone Declan and Julian didn't know about, and photographed the payment records. Six images. Each one joined the Lattimore file.

A tap on the glass. I locked the screen.

Hugh stood in my doorway, jacket off, coffee in hand. He leaned against the frame — relaxed, unhurried, like a man stopping by to chat. His silver hair caught the overhead light. His eyes scanned my desk, from the organized files to the clean surface and untouched coffee.

"Settling in?" He sipped.

"Getting there."

He walked in and sat across from me, crossing one ankle over his knee. "I've been thinking about the Albright portfolio. Retail assets, mostly. Three underperforming. Divest or restructure?"

I gave him a good answer. Not my best. A clean, slightly conservative recommendation that a smart advisor would make. His head tilted as he listened, his thumb turning the coffee cup in slow rotations. When I finished, he nodded once.

"Sharp." He stood, tapped the doorframe twice, and walked out.

I watched him move down the corridor. He stopped at his assistant's desk, said something that made her laugh, touched her shoulder once, and continued toward the elevator. The warm father. The generous patriarch.

I unlocked my screen. Helios Partners stared back at me.

Soleil called at 5:30 p.m. "Where are you? We're going to be late."

"Leaving now." I closed the files, pocketed both phones, and grabbed my jacket. The badge went into my desk drawer. I locked it.

The drive to Brooklyn took forty minutes. Soleil sat in the passenger seat with her hand on my thigh, her thumb tracing absent circles while she talked about a ceramicist whose portfolio she'd been reviewing all week. Her hair was down, loose curls past her shoulders. She wore a green dress that kept drawing my gaze from the road whenever she moved in her seat.

I parked outside Declan's brownstone. Before I could open my door, the front door swung wide. Declan stood in the frame with Lena on his hip. The baby was in a yellow onesie, her blue eyes enormous, a string of drool connecting her chin to her fist.

"She's been giving speeches all day," Declan said, stepping back to let us in. "No idea about what, but she's very committed."

Soleil was past me before I crossed the threshold. She crouched in the hallway, her fingers reaching for Lena's feet. "Look at these shoes." She cupped one tiny sneaker in her palm. "Declan. These have bows."

"Thea's doing."

"They're absurd. I love them." She looked up at Lena. The baby reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Soleil's curls. Soleil laughed and worked her hair free from the tiny grip.