I lift my head slowly. “And?”
Camille winces. “And I told him.”
There it is.
The tight, cold feeling in my chest blooms-but it doesn’t explode like I expect it to. It just… sits there.
I stare at the condensation running down my glass. Then I sigh.
“I don’t care,” I say finally.
Camille blinks. “You-what?”
“Not right now,” I clarify. “I don’t have the energy to be mad. I just need to understand what the hell is happening.”
She relaxes a fraction. “Okay.”
I take a long drink. The coconut rum hits my tongue, sweet and sharp. “I need to know how to handle him. What he wants.
Why he’s suddenly… doing things.”
Camille tilts her head. “You mean being decent?”
“I mean being interested,” I snap, then sigh again. “There are a million people who could do my job. Smarter people. More experienced people. People who don’t come with a missing brother and a sick mother and a detective breathing down their neck.”
“So why you?” Camille asks gently.
I laugh, short and bitter. “That’s what I want to know.”
She studies me. Really studies me.
“Maybe,” she says slowly, “it’s because it’s you.”
I scoff. “That’s not an answer.”
“It kind of is.”
I shake my head. “No. Men like Rowan don’t operate on vibes. He operates on leverage. Value. Control.”
“And you have all three,” she says immediately.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You’re competent,” Camille says, counting on her fingers. “You’re loyal. You don’t gossip. You don’t screw up. You don’t flinch under pressure. And you don’t want anything from him.”
I snort. “Except my paycheck.”
“Exactly,” she says. “You want stability. Not him.”
That lands harder than I expect.
The food arrives then-steaming plates of pad thai, curry so fragrant my stomach growls embarrassingly loud.
Camille grins. “See? You’re alive.”
I laugh despite myself. “Barely.”
We dig in. I take a bite and almost moan. “God. I missed this place.”
Camille raises her glass. “To comfort carbs and emotional support alcohol.”
I clink mine against hers. “Amen.”
I chew, then say quietly, “I told him I’m not Avery.”
Camille pauses mid-bite.
“I told him I will never do what she did,” I continue. “I don’t care how much he pays me. I will lose my job before I cross that line.”
Camille’s mouth curves into a proud smile. “And?”
“And he didn’t argue,” I admit. “He didn’t push. He just… accepted it.” I glare at my noodles. “I don’t want to be special.”
“Too late.”
I look up. “Don’t.”
“But,” she adds lightly, “if he screws you over, I’ll help you burn the place down.”
I smile. “Deal.”
Rowan
I shouldn’t be here.
That thought keeps looping as I sit in the driver’s seat of my own vehicle, engine idling, lights dark, hands locked around the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded.
Across the street, the Thai place glows warm and yellow. Too warm. Too human. Violet sits by the window, chopsticks in hand, hair falling loose around her shoulders as she leans in toward Camille. She laughs-quiet, real-and for a split second she looks like someone who isn’t carrying the weight of a dead brother, a failing system, and a city that wants to eat her alive.
Theo shifts beside me. “Do you feel better now?”
The question irritates me instantly.
“No,” I say.
Flat. Final.
Theo exhales through his nose. “Didn’t think so.”
I don’t look at him. My eyes stay on Violet. On the way she pauses mid-bite to listen. On the way she nods like she’s cataloging everything Camille says, the same way she does at work.
“She never shuts off,” I mutter.
Theo glances at her. “No. She doesn’t.”
“This place is a shithole,” I add.
Theo snorts. “You say that like it’s offended you personally.”
“It’s beneath where she lived,” I snap.
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
Theo goes still.
Slowly, he turns his head and looks at me-not amused this time. Curious. Sharp.
“That,” he says, “was very specific.”
I clench my jaw. “I don’t feel better,” I repeat. “I don’t know why I’m doing any of this. I don’t know why I care. And it’s pissing me off.”
Theo leans back in his seat, arms crossing. “You’re invested.”
“I don’t invest in people,” I say immediately.
“You hired a Pl.”
“That’s risk control.”
“You doubled her pay.”
“Operational necessity.”
“You threatened her landlord.”
“He was violating housing code.”
Theo raises an eyebrow. “You checked housing code?”
I don’t answer.
“And now,” Theo continues, gesturing subtly toward the restaurant, “you’re sitting in your car watching her eat pad thai.”
Silence.
Violet reaches for her drink. Takes a sip. Her shoulders drop just a fraction.
“She makes everything work,” I say finally. “That’s it. She keeps the system functional. Without her, nothing moves. The office collapses. I spent half a day without her and nearly lost my mind.”
Theo nods slowly. “That’s not nothing.”
“It’s logistics.”
“It’s dependence,” he counters.
I glare at him. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
He doesn’t back down. “You’ve built your entire operation around someone you didn’t even realize you were relying on.”
I scoff. “She’s just a woman.”
Theo’s lips twitch. “You don’t talk about people like that when you don’t care.”
I go still.
“Think about it,” he presses. “You haven’t slept with her. Haven’t taken her out. Haven’t touched her. Haven’t even flirted.”
My jaw tightens.
“And yet,” Theo continues, “you’re doing more for her than you ever did for Avery. Or anyone.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Avery was… replaceable.”
Theo nods. “And Violet isn’t.”
I stare straight ahead. “You’re reading too much into it.”
“Am I?” he asks. “You don’t do things without a reason. So what’s yours?”
I open my mouth to tell him to shut up.
Then something shifts.
Across the street.
A movement that doesn’t belong.
A man leaning against a sedan like he’s just killing time. Phone lifted casually. The faint, unmistakable click of a camera shutter.
My spine goes rigid.
“There,” I say quietly.
Theo follows my gaze. Squints.
Then swears. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
O OIGO
Calder.
Standing there like he owns the sidewalk. Like he’s not being subtle because he doesn’t have to be.
And his phone is aimed directly at Violet.
My vision narrows.
I feel something cold settle behind my ribs. Controlled. Focused. Dangerous.
Theo rubs his face. “Can we not have one peaceful fucking night?”
1 reach for the door handle.
Theo grabs my arm. “No.”
“I’ll end him,” I say calmly.
“I know,” Theo replies. “That’s why you’re staying put.”
Calder lowers the phone, checks the screen, then raises it again-adjusting his angle.
I watch Violet laugh again, unaware. Exposed.
“That man is circling her,” I growl. “This isn’t investigation. This is fixation.”
Theo’s jaw tightens. “Yeah. It is.”
He pulls his phone out.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Theo lifts it, steady, recording now. “Getting proof.”
The screen captures Calder clearly-his stance, the phone, the direction of the lens.
“He’s been watching her for days,” Theo mutters. “Questioning her. Cornering her. Now this?”
He stops recording and taps his screen. “Sending it to the PI.”
Good.
“This is getting fucking creepy,” Theo adds. “Even for a cop.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.