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I stared at him. “So you said nothing. You decided for me.”

“No.”

“That’s exactly what you did.”

His face hardened. “No. I decided I wasn’t going to use something I didn’t understand to push you away from another man.”

“You could’ve told me and let me decide what it meant.”

“I know that now.”

Dean shoved both hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I should’ve told you Martin came in. I’m sorry.”

I wanted to stay angry. It would have been easier if he’d defended himself more, or made some claim that he’d been protecting me. I was getting very tired of men protecting me from information about my own life. But, instead he looked miserable and honest.

“I wasn’t going to make your choice for you,” he said.

Martin cleared his throat gently. “There’s one other thing.”

My anger at Dean vanished beneath a fresh layer of dread.

“What?”

He had his hand on the folder.

“I haven’t found anything showing Paul Ellsworth personally directed any of the questionable transfers.”

I held his gaze.

“But?”

“There are references suggesting he knows the firm is under pressure.”

“How much does he know?”

“I can’t tell.”

“Does he know about the Hale trust?”

Martin hesitated.

“I’ve haven’t seen anything that proves what Paul Ellsworth knows about your personal finances.”

That wasn’t good enough.

“Could he know?”

“Yes.”

The room went cold despite the heat. I saw Paul bringing white tulips because he remembered I thought roses were boring, him taking my hand on the patio, him in the pool with his wet hair pushed back, laughing in a way I’d almost forgotten he could.

Paul looking at me and saying he would talk to his father about the move to Cleveland, about the dinner, and about all of it.

Had he already known? Had he known every time he talked about our future? The ugliest interpretation rose before I could stop it.

Paul was marrying me for my money and so my money could bail out his family firm.