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The fury when he realises I’ve been lying to him. The collapse of every professional relationship I’ve ever built through Parker Capital.

Alice pushed into open war with her parents.

Christopher’s return becoming a public slaying.

Her career tangled in scandal before the Hammersmith art auction.

And what would I have to offer her?

Nothing.

Absolutely sweet fuck all.

Maybe Jack would let us hole up here at his expense, but what then? What stability and assurance could I really give a woman like Alice Rose Parker?

“It would destroy everything,” I say to Jack.

His jaw tightens.

“Stop pretending this overblown everything is more important than she is.”

“You don’t understand,” I say, yet again.

Nine.

My hand closes into a fist.

Seven.

Jack waits. Arms folded.

Six.

Still, I don’t fucking move.

Five.

The disappointment in his face is brief, but it’s brutal.

Then it disappears, locked away behind the expression he uses when he wants the world to believe nothing touches him. Of course it doesn’t. Nothing would ever touch the invincible Jack Reid.

He shrugs and turns back towards the apartment.

“Sure. Whatever, BT. You do you, boo.”

Fuck.

The numbers continue descending.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Ground.