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“That’s good.” I reach into my inner jacket pocket and retrieve a red velvet pouch. “Hopefully this will complement it.”

Olivia reaches across the table to take the pouch as I hold it out to her. She opens the drawstring and empties the contents into her palm.

“This is beautiful.” Her smile as she studies the necklace seems genuine.

“It’s not expensive, but it has sentimental value.”

The silver chain with a heart-shaped pendant belonged to my grandmother, the woman I owe my life to. Lena Rezanova is the one who saw how my mother neglected me after my father abandoned her. Burdened with chronic asthma, my grandmother couldn’t care for me alone, so she roped Uncle Boris into taking on a paternal role. It’s thanks to them I’m the man I am today.

“I love it.”

“Will it work with your dress?”

“Yes,” she replies without hesitation. “Perfectly.”

“Good. My uncle hoped you would wear it.”

“Oh, it’s from Boris?”

Is it my imagination or does she look disappointed? Perhaps she thought it was a gift from me. I’m not the sentimental one in the family. I leave that to my uncle. Yet as Olivia’s face falls, I find I don’t want Boris to have all the credit.

“It belonged to my grandmother. I want you to have it.”

Olivia drops the necklace back into the pouch and sets it down on the table next to her. “I’ll take good care of it.”

“I’m sure you will. Now, perhaps you can tell me who thatmudakwas and why he had his hands on you.”

The sudden shift in topic should catch her off guard. The way her mouth drops open tells me the tactic worked.

“Dario’s an old school friend.” The quiver in her voice tells me there’s more to it. “We went to St. Mary’s High School together.”

Dario. I’ll store that away for later. No matter what Olivia tells me, I’m going to have him thoroughly checked out.

“And what did your old friend from St. Mary’s High School want?”

Olivia moves uncomfortably in her seat, and I suspect she’s about to lie to me. “He heard about the wedding and wanted to congratulate me.”

“And he had to do that in person?”

Olivia shrugs. “I guess he was in the neighborhood.”

Again, I think she’s lying because she swallows so hard I hear the gulp. It’s reassuring, I guess, that she has trouble concealing her deceit from me.

“So, why did he have his hands on you?”

“He was just… It was a friendly gesture.” She gets up and walks to the window in a futile attempt to evade my scrutiny.

“Did you like thisfriendly gesture?”

Olivia turns to me. “I don’t know why you’re making a big deal out of this. It was nothing.”

“Nothing?” Downing the rest of my vodka in one go, I set the glass down on the table and stalk toward her. “I’d hardly call another man touching you nothing.”

As I move closer, Olivia steps away from the window, backing up until she traps herself in a corner. I lean in and run the back of my fingers down her cheek. She stiffens.

“Tell me, Olivia, did you like him touching you?”

“No.”