The next evening, Simon arrived at Moretti's ahead of time, as he preferred when he intended to control the pace of a conversation. He chose a table toward the back, not hidden but removed enough that interruptions would be minimal, then settled in, posture relaxed, expression composed, already considering how far he intended to push and where he would stop.He wasn't here to accuse her. That would produce defensiveness without result. He was here to ask questions in an order that made the contradictions visible enough that she would feel compelled to account for them.Simon, brash as he was, was a gambler at heart and when it came to playing the game, he never made bets on people he couldn't figure out (Noah being a outlier to this)Early in his life he had learned that people rarely lied under direct confrontation the way they lied—or failed to—under gentle, methodical pressure. You didn't need to call someone wrong. You only needed to keep asking until they heard themselves.Nic

"Yes," she breathed, her heart racing at the return of his touch. "He offered to help. He worked, he did the manual labor we couldn't afford to hire out. He gave us every cent he earned. I thought marrying him would make us look stable to the creditors. It was a practical arrangement. A sacrifice I made for my family.""A sacrifice," Simon repeated, his thumb moving to her lower lip, pulling it down slightly in a gesture that was both sensual and demeaning. "And did you tell him that? Or did you let the poor bastard believe he actually had a chance with a woman like you? Did you let him into your bed just to keep the checks coming in?"Nicole flinched, the color draining from her face. "He... he loved me. He was happy to do it. I never had to force him.""Of course you didn't," Simon laughed, a dry, hollow sound that echoed in the quiet restaurant. He finally sat back down, pulling his chair closer to hers than it had been before, their knees touching. He took her hand in his, lacin

Noah sat in the living room of the apartment, the three rings laid out on the coffee table before him like evidence at a trial.The evening light slanted through the windows, catching on the metalwork and making both pieces seem to glow with inner fire, all rings reacting to each other now that they were close.He'd been staring at them for the better part of an hour, unable to move forward, unable to retreat.The first ring, his mother's ring according to Rebecca, he knew intimately now. He'd worn it, felt its weight, experienced the strange weight it made him feel in his chest. The second ring, the one Markus Shinren had given him, the one that had unlocked strange memories and had nearly given him a stroke.The martial arts abilities that had also emerged unbidden had also shook his sense of self.And lastly, the third ring remained an unknown quantity. He'd examined it closely, noted the similarities in craftsmanship, the way it seemed designed to complement the first. Three p

Grinning at the fact that things suddenly started making sense, he leaned forward, placing his hands on his own knees as well as he stared at the woman, rapt."What else?""Coffee," Rebecca continued, her smile growing. "You were absurdly particular about your coffee. It had to be a specific temperature, specific blend. You once fired a personal assistant for bringing you something that was, and I quote, 'an insult to the concept of caffeine.'""Sounds like I was exhausting," Noah murmured."You were, generally." Rebecca's eyes snapped back to his, and the intensity there made him sit up straighter. "But you are also inspiring. You made people want to be better. Not through fear or manipulation, but because you saw potential in them they didn't see in themselves." She paused, something flickering across her features. "You saw something in me when I was just another security contractor. You made me head of your personal detail when I was twenty-six years old, and everyone said I was t

Noah grabbed the gym bag and stomped to the bathroom, muttering creative curses under his breath that would have made sailors blush. The gym clothes fit perfectly, of course, because Rebecca was nothing if not terrifyingly prepared. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror—dark circles under his eyes, hair sticking up in seventeen different directions, the expression of a man being led to his execution."This is abuse," he called out. "I'm pretty sure this violates human rights .""Two minutes."He threw on the clothes, expensive athletic wear that felt like wearing a cloud, which somehow made him more annoyed and stumbled back into the bedroom. Rebecca gave him an approving once-over, then headed for the door."Wait," Noah said, his sleep-deprived brain finally catching up. "Where are we even going?""The gym.""What gym is open at five in the morning?""Yours is."The drive was a blur. Noah dozed in the passenger seat of Rebecca's immaculate black SUV, jerking awake every time