I was her first.
Her first kiss. Her first everything. I was the one who made her blush, who held her when she was scared, who kissed her until she forgot how to breathe.
Now she’s his.
The thought of him, whoever the hell he is, having any part of her makes my stomach twist. Did he whisper promises to her the way I did? Did she believe him like she believed me?
Some spineless bastard who lets her family run a cafe and florist alone while he coasts through life? She’s breaking her back, and he just stands by?
My jaw tightens, rage simmering. He should be supporting her, not watching her struggle.
Does he even see her? The way she straightens when she’s tired, still smiling through it all because she’s too proud to ask for help?
If it were me, she wouldn’t lift a finger unless she wanted to. No rent, no stress. I’d give her everything.
Everything.
My fists clench, nails biting into my palms. Fuck that.
I pull out my phone and scroll to Shaw’s number, the best private investigator money can buy. I haven’t needed him in a while, but tonight, I want answers.
He picks up on the second ring. “Ashcroft.”
“I need a job done,” I say, my voice flat. “I want everything you can find on Lila Ng’s husband.”
There’s a pause. “Her husband?”
“Yes. Name, occupation, income, criminal record. If he’s ever gotten a parking ticket, I want to know. Every last detail and I want it fast.”
“I’ll get started right away.”
“You’ve got twenty-four hours. Sooner, if you’re smart.”
“I understand.”
I hang up without another word and toss the phone on the table. This isn’t curiosity anymore, it’s strategy and if her husband’s even half the man he should be…
I’ll find out soon enough.
I shouldn’t be this worked up. This was supposed to be simple. Hear them out. Offer money. Close the deal.
Not… this.
The tension coils tighter in my chest, sharp and unrelenting. I scrub a hand over my face and head toward the bathroom, stripping off my shirt on the way. Maybe a cold shower will cut through this knot in my gut, shake off the heat crawling beneath my skin.
The water hits like ice. Bracing, punishing, but it still doesn’t chase her from my mind.
I brace a hand against the tiled wall, exhaling hard. It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone. Maybe that’s all this is, too long without a distraction, without someone in my bed. Maybe that’s why the sight of her—those eyes, that mouth, that voice, hits like a wrecking ball.
Still, it doesn’t explain the way her voice loops in my head. Or the way her fake smile cut sharper than anything else today.
I stay under the water longer than I should, hoping to feel clean, clear, composed.
But when I step out and dry off, the knot’s still there. Tight.Twisting.
The email from Shaw comes in just as I’m pouring another drink. My laptop pings, and I cross the room, ice clinking in the glass as I lean over to read it.
The subject line: Lila Ng.
