I roll my eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“And yet,” he says quietly, “you indulge me, especially when I kissed you. I didn’t see you push me away.”
I stop walking.
He’s right.
I didn’t push him away.
I turn to face him.
He’s watching me with that steady, unreadable stare. The one he used to give me when he was trying to figure out what I really wanted but didn’t trust me to say it out loud.
“I don’t know what this is,” I say, breath catching on the words.
And I mean it.
He made the move.
He kissed me.
And if this is real—if he wants this, wants me—then I have to face the truth I’ve been avoiding:
I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive loving him again.
And I don’t know if he could ever forgive me for the way I left the first time.
Because last night wasn’t a mistake.
The kiss in the boat wasn’t a game.
It was a shift. A door reopened.
And I’m scared.
What if I’m the one who breaks us again?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rowan
When Chad said, “Debrief in twenty,” what he really meant was cognac and cigars with the partners.
A quiet little flex disguised as a meeting. An invitation-only affair where the top prospects get to pretend they belong while the real power players decide whether we’re decoration or investment.
I was invited.
Naturally.
After changing into fresh clothes I left Tessa and Waffles curled up on the bed, both damp, half-asleep, and smelling faintly of lake water and whatever organic shampoo the estate stocks.
She didn’t ask where I was going because she already knew. She’s studied this world from the outside long enough to recognize its rituals.
“Go,” she muttered, eyes half-lidded as she fluffed a pillow behind her back, creating a nest. “Seal the deal. Charm them. Smile like you care about hedge funds and polo. You know, all the things you do so well.”
I raised a brow, tying my tie with practiced precision. “You think I smile?”
“You’re terrifying when you do,” she said around a yawn that she didn’t bother covering. “Very predatory.”
