“Well said.” He ate a bite of lobster. “What else would you like to know?”
“How did you get into MI6?”
“I read politics at Oxford. I apparently impressed a lecturer who turned out to be a clandestine SIS talent scout. He invited me for a chat over tea. A few more informal interviews and I was invited to apply for a ‘position with the Foreign Office’.” He leaned closer. “That’s what MI6 likes to call themselves, as if we don’t know what it means.”
She laughed. “Sounds very James Bond.”
“It wasn’t like the films,” Graham told her. “I promise you that. No martinis or passwords. Just a very polite man who asked if I could keep a secret—and if I might be interested in doing something useful with it.” He shrugged. “And I was.”
He told her a few stories, names redacted, over dessert of crème brulee. She wasn’t ready for the evening to end, but as he paid the bill, she knew she needed to go home and have a long think about what she wanted for herself.
She’d thought she’d known. Until Graham.
The evening air was soft, tinged with the briny scent of the Gulf as Paige and Graham left the restaurant side by side, herarm through his. Their footsteps echoed against the sidewalk as the restaurant’s golden light faded behind them.
Her car was parked a block away beneath a streetlamp, the kind of spot that had seemed perfectly safe in daylight. Graham had insisted on walking her there, his Old World courtesy something she was happily adjusting to.
They were halfway down the block when a man stepped out from the shadows between two parked cars. His T-shirt and jeans were stained, his voice slurred.
“Hey—hey, beautiful, got a dollar? Or something better?” He grinned, showing a missing tooth, his leering glare implying all sorts of things.
Paige’s pulse kicked up. “Sorry, I don’t?—”
“Come on, now.” The man took another step closer, too close.
Before she could say another word, Graham shifted. It wasn’t dramatic, just a quiet, fluid movement. He stepped between Paige and the man, shoulders squared, his stance widening just enough to block her completely. His tone, when he spoke, had lost every trace of charm.
“That’s far enough.”
The words weren’t loud, but they carried. Adamant and laced with authority. The kind of tone that made you stop without knowing why.
The man hesitated, sneering. “I just want?—”
“I heard you.” Graham didn’t waver. “Now move on.”
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then something in Graham’s posture changed—not anything angry, exactly, butcommanding. The kind of move that came from someone who’d seen and dealt with worse than this.
The man’s bravado vanished. Muttering under his breath, he backed away and slouched off into the night.
Silence lingered in his wake, broken only by the whisper of wind through the palms.
Paige released the breath she’d been holding. “You didn’t even raise your voice.”
Graham turned to her, and the change was startling—the tension disappeared as his familiar warmth slid back into his features. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Old habits. I didn’t mean to?—”
“To what?” she asked, her voice softer than she intended.
“Frighten you.”
She blinked at him, startled. “Frighten me? Graham, you just sent that man running without raising a hand. I’mfine.”
He gave a rueful half-smile, as if not quite unconvinced. “You look a bit pale.”
“That’s adrenaline,” she said. “Not fear.” She hesitated, then added, “You were… incredible, actually.”
That drew his gaze. The steel lingering in his eyes softened, replaced by something gentler, warmer. For a heartbeat, they simply looked at each other. The night wrapped around them and she felt like they were the only two people on the Earth. Then, before she could overthink it, she reached up, put her hand against his cheek, and kissed him.
It wasn’t a dramatic kiss, just quiet and steady and a little bit testing. When she drew back, his expression was equal parts surprise and wonder.
