Chapter 8

After work, I drove to the Kingsley estate property—the gated villa complex where Natasha had been living.

I'd been half-convinced Dominic was still stringing her along.

I'd planned to park outside and wait, but it turned out Dominic had a private garage there. I drove straight in.

Natasha was standing at the curb with three rolling suitcases, a moving van parked beside her.

She was moving out?

I'd just pulled in when she ran over and snapped a photo of my car.

I stepped out and watched her in silence.

"Not getting a good shot?" I said.

She froze. "That's your car?"

I didn't bother explaining. I glanced past her at the suitcases. "You're moving?"

She shrugged. "I've been here too long. Getting bored. I bought a new place downtown."

She'd been kicked out. She was pretending I didn't know any better.

"Congratulations on your new home," I said, and meant it.

Natasha studied me.

"Thanks for the well-wishes. I'll tell you something in return." She stepped closer and dropped her voice. "Starting today, I'm getting serious about Elliot. Before I was just passing the time—that's why I didn't bother with you. But now I'm done playing."

I thought about what she'd just said.

"Thank you for your confidence in my taste."

"You—!"

She went quiet.

Two men in suits came walking toward us. The one in front was familiar—Dominic's assistant, the one who drove for him.

He spotted me.

"Ms. Hartley, what are you doing here?" He smiled. "Mr. Kingsley wants to put one of the properties here on the market. Interested? I've got the agent right with me."

"You're joking. I could never afford something like this."

"If you like it, you can afford it."

I turned around and realized Natasha had gone—her luggage and the moving van vanished with her.

The assistant didn't say anything, just smiled.

I asked him about the insurance claim on my car. He told me Dominic had personally handled it.

"He's running a billion-dollar company and he deals with things like that himself?"

"Mr. Kingsley said it's his favorite car."

I had no words.

He called Dominic right then and there.

Dominic had made a reservation at a private boat dinner on the lake—he asked if I'd come that evening.

The small yacht sat still on the water, its lights reflected in the surface of the lake below.

Dominic arrived on time. As he stepped inside, the boat rocked, and I lost my footing and stumbled forward into him.

He caught me.

"Careful."

Maybe it was the view tonight, the way the lights shimmered on the water. He didn't say anything sharp.

We sat across from each other.

"I sent you the invoice early. Have you looked at it? Any issues?"

The food came from the main vessel moored in the middle of the lake—a server rowed it over in a small dinghy, one course at a time.

For most of the evening, there were only the two of us.

"Mr. Kingsley, I know your car isn't cheap. I understand repairs go over estimate—fine. But what exactly is this 'lost earnings' charge? And 'emotional damages'? On a weekend, of all days—"

"I work weekends. I work every day of the year."

"Even so, this rate is—"

"High income. Nothing I can do about it."

"The thing is, the insurance won't cover this. The claim will get denied."

"Personal wire transfer is fine."

I took a slow breath and forced myself calm. "Dominic, are you extorting me?"

He looked unbothered. "Would you like to speak with my lawyer?"

I stood up, glaring at him. We held each other's gaze, neither moving. Then I sat back down.

"I'm a university lecturer. No career prospects to speak of. I make maybe ten thousand a month. Not eating, not spending, I'd be paying this off for a decade. And you know my husband is sleeping with one of my students. I'm already having the worst year of my life. Could you not take pity on me and let this go?"

Dominic reached out and picked up a piece of food with his fork.

"The way you said that," he said, glancing at me with a raised brow, "almost sounds like a hint. Good thing I'm an upstanding man. Your wishes will go unfulfilled."

I stared at him—and then, in spite of myself, I laughed.

"You're the one who—You know I have no money. You don't need it. You're not doing all this—lending me a car, taking me to dinner—to collect a debt. Don't tell me you are."

"Good." He set down his fork abruptly and stood up. We were face to face. "I'm glad we can speak plainly."

Then he said: "I want to pursue you."

I stood there, not sure what to do with my hands.

"If you were single, I'd take my time. But pursuing a married woman—I need to make sure she can actually get divorced first."

Dominic stepped forward. I stepped back instinctively and caught a small red lantern hanging from the cabin ceiling—he raised his hand and shielded my head in time.

"So. What do you think?"

The cabin was narrow. Two people standing this close made it narrower. I turned my head and looked out at the water. The boat's lights swayed. The reflections swayed with them.

I thought about it for a long time.

"I'll get divorced. But not because of you."

Dominic looked down and smiled. "All right."

He turned and stood beside me, shoulder to shoulder.

"I haven't dated seriously in a long time. Natasha was introduced through a mutual friend—she was more of a candidate than anything else. I've been too busy. We never really started anything. Otherwise I wouldn't have handled things with Elliot the way I did."

I turned back to him. "Why are you telling me this? What does it have to do with me?"

He tilted his head toward me, eyes dropping, voice slow and deliberate. "Since you told me something that had nothing to do with me, I thought I'd return the favor."

I had nothing to say to that.

A breeze came off the lake. It moved across the water like fingers trailing over the surface, and the boat shifted gently beneath us. The sound of the water rose through the floorboards and settled into my ears.

Dominic went to check the bow and came back. "It's starting to rain." He sat down. "Wait for it to stop?"

"I want to leave now." I steadied myself against the wall of the cabin and checked my phone. "Spring rain doesn't always stop."

He stood back up. "All right."

That was easier than I expected. No argument, no pressure.

He seemed, actually, like a man of his word.