Chapter 3

Then her eyes slid to me — and she flinched backward like something frightened. "I can't fight people like her. Please, Nicholas. I'm not worth it. I don't want to end up hurt or — or worse — just because I came between them."

He turned to look at me. The expression on his face was not kind.

"Explain yourself."

I dropped my hand from my face, showing him the welt.

"Ask her what she said first."

"Miss Wyndham!" Bianca's voice went sharp as glass. "Yes, I slapped you. But that was after you threatened to have my parents killed if I didn't stay away from him. They're ordinary people. If it makes you feel better, you can slap me back. Just don't hurt them."

I felt the blood rise to my face. "That's a lie—"

"Enough." Nicholas's voice cut across the room. He looked at me with open disappointment. "Peyton. I spoiled you."

"Do you think because you had no one growing up, I won't hold you accountable?"

I felt the laugh come up before I could stop it — hollow, involuntary. My eyes were burning.

"So what exactly are you going to do for your wife?"

He moved to stand in front of me, unhurried.

He reached for my hand. Slowly, one by one, he slid the ring from my finger — the one he had made himself, by hand, the night he closed his first real deal. The one that had taken him hours to finish. The one he had placed on my finger and said: "This is a promise. Whatever happens."

He handed it off to his assistant without looking.

"Call the police. My wife's jewelry has been stolen. She was caught with it."

I stopped moving.

My brain went white.

Nicholas had built himself from nothing. He knew how to be ruthless. Every enemy who had ever crossed him had learned that. The only exception — always, always — had been me.

Until now.

The man who would fight the world for me was using the world to fight me.

He turned the ring in his fingers, his face blurring in my vision as the first tears rose and refused to fall.

"You've been too difficult, Peyton. Go and think about what you've done. I'll put the ring back on your finger myself when you come out."

I smiled. It felt like something tearing.

When the security officers came in and cuffed me, I pulled my hand from Nicholas's grip, one finger at a time.

He felt the moment my hand left his. Something shifted in his face.

He reached for me.

Bianca had already taken his arm.

"Thank you for stepping in for me." Bianca nestled against Nicholas, smiling up at him. "That was terrifying."

He made a sound in his throat and pinched her cheek. "What do you want as a reward?"

She plucked the ring from his hand and dropped it into the nearest rubbish bin.

Nicholas's expression shifted.

Bianca immediately went teary. "Is it important to you?" She reached toward the bin. "I'll get it back. She hurt me, but I don't want to make things difficult for you. Ten years is ten years."

He pulled her back, expression softening. "You're more important than any ring. Don't touch anything dirty. Here — the black card's yours. Buy whatever you want."

She pouted. "I don't want your money. I only want you."

"That's exactly why I want to spend it on you. Let me."

She accepted with a show of reluctance.

Three days later, I was led out of the holding room.

I was taken directly to a private club, upstairs, the VIP lounge.

When the door opened, Nicholas and Bianca were sharing a single grape from the same stem. It dropped. They kissed instead. The people around them cheered.

I had no idea how long it had been going on when Nicholas finally noticed me in the doorway.

His eyes moved over my hollow cheeks, and something in his face fell.

"What happened to you in there? Did someone—"

Before he could finish, Bianca laughed. "Don't be fooled. She's done her makeup this way on purpose. Look how convincing it is. That must have taken hours."

Nicholas's concern stalled. He took a cigarette out, used Bianca's lighter, let the smoke settle over his features.

Through the haze his eyes found mine — flat, impatient.

"Since you've had time to reflect, come and apologize to Bianca."

Bianca sat draped across his lap in white, swirling a glass of something amber and high-proof. She tilted her head.

"I don't actually want to make your life difficult."

"But you insulted my parents. You threatened them. Anyone would have a hard time forgiving that."

A pause. Then, as if just remembering: "Oh. I forgot. You don't have parents. You grew up in care." Her voice was sweetly horrified. "You poor thing."