Page 55 of Cruel Lies

But I just can't bring myself to believe that that column even exists yet. There's something about the way he keeps handing me these polished, principled little answers that makes me want to pry up the floorboards and see what's rotting underneath.

Todd was all surface, too. At first, he said the right things in the right voice. I trusted the packaging and never once checked the contents.

I won't be fooled twice.

"Here's a question," I say in a sharp, tight voice. "Are you still profiting off my marriage somehow?"

He doesn't turn from the window right away.

"You had Todd's retainer," I press. "Fresh hundreds, you told me. You pocketed them. So maybe you let his case rot,but you kept the money, didn't you? And now, here you are, clearing my invoices and feeding me chocolate and telling me you have all these lovely little lines you won't cross. So I'd like to know: Is there a version of this where you come out ahead no matter which of us you're standing next to? Where the Bradshaws are just a—a revenue stream with two entrances?"

Ronan freezes. I'm suddenly almost afraid of him, and simultaneously aware that we're very alone up here. There was no secretary out front or any signs of life nearby. If he got angry… If he gottooangry…

I want to believe that's a line he wouldn't cross. Deep in my bones, I know it is.

But how much am I willing to bet on that?

Especially because, for the first time since I met him, I hear the thing that some animal part of my brain has been whispering about all along—that, under the suit and the rolled sleeves and the dessert-spoon charm, there is something in this man that knows how to be very, very dangerous.

Ronan's shoulders don't move. His hands stay in his pockets. Whatever he's looking at through that window, I don't think he's seeing it anymore.

"Not in any way you'd understand," he says at last.

He turns from the window. His face is smooth again, pleasant even, but the warmth I'd been marinating in all night has drained out of it entirely.

"If that's all, Ms. Meadows," he says, "I'm sure we both have busy days ahead of us."

"Ronan, wait?—"

"Alyssa in the lobby will validate your parking." He points toward the elevator. "Give my best to Hayden and Isabella."

And that's it. That's all I get.

Confused and wondering if I'm the one in the wrong, I pick up my cold coffee and leave.

15

RONAN

She was afraid of me.

For a moment there, as I stood looking out the window and she threw that barb at my back, she thought she'd gone too far and that I was about to snap.

I've been called worse. By men with knives and men with badges. Hell, by my own father in the last coherent hour of his life. None of it stung the way that did, flung from her mouth in that tight little voice, her chin up and her spine straight even though I could smell the fear coming off her.

She's right to be fearful. That's the sane response to what I am, and Cali Bradshaw is many maddening things but she is not, thank God, stupid.

And still. It sat wrong in my chest.

I turn back to the window.

The Hudson is gray sludge forty stories below. Barges crawl south and a helicopter zooms across the sky toward Jersey. I look at it all for a while and let the thoughts in my head settledown until it's the usual calm, focused silence. Whiskey is a faster way to dull the noise, but it's too early for that, even by my standards.

What an interesting creature she's turning out to be. She snagged my attention early on, but the extent to which I'm finding myself fixating on her is a surprise. She thinks she's too much. That sheusedto be bold, but Todd snuffed it out of her.

That's laughable.Used to be?I want to grab her by the waist and tell her,Ms. Meadows, you just hurled insults at the leaderof the most powerful criminal organization in New York City. "Bold" doesn't even begin to cover it.

She's still got her fire.