Page 1

One

Four Seasons Hotel,South Beach, Miami, Florida.

Samantha

I smooth my hands down my too-tight dress and shimmy into the dining room. Pendant lights cast a soft glow on polished marble, and the low murmur of conversation hums beneath the clink of crystal.

A sea breeze drifts through the terrace doors, brushing past linen-draped tables and waiters in black.

All of it is lost on me. I might as well be walking into a glass-walled interrogation room—sleek, silent, and impossible to escape.

In a way, I am.

I spot her sitting at the bar. Looking immaculate in her white pantsuit and heels. Her green eyes find me almost immediately, and I catch the mildest flickering of her lips before it disappears in a flash.

I extend my hand, tilting my head to one side, pitching my voice as though uncertain. “Gretchen Green?”

Mona accepts my hand, and this time she does smile, but it’s not for me. It’s for the benefit of the bartender and the businessmen currently checking us out. At forty-seven, Mona is still stunning. High cheekbones, full lips, emphasized by expert application of makeup that takes a decade off.

She’s also lithe and lean. A dancer’s body. Graceful and elegant.

Her eyes shift to the right. A subtle sign she can’t stay long. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aurora. Your Insta is most impressive. Can I get you a drink before we get down to business?”

She gestures to the bartender, who practically skips to her. I place my order and try not to let my nerves show.

For a few minutes we carry on the ruse. That I’m a fame-hungry actress looking for representation. Then the businessmen depart, and the bartender is busy fixing the overly complicated order I placed.

“I had the dream again,” I say quietly.

Her face hardens a fraction. “You shouldn’t have come back to Florida so soon.”

I take a breath and slowly release it. I know she’s watching me like a hawk. Every micro expression, every pacifying movement of my hands. Waiting to see how I perform under stress.

“I had to. I needed to switch out passports.” When the groove between her eyebrows deepens, I swallow. “He’s haunting me.”

She scoffs. “So melodramatic, darling. You’re starting to sound like Anne Shirley.”

The conversation pauses as the bartender slides my daiquiri in front of me. His eyes linger too long to be polite.

I flick my brunette wig’s hair behind my shoulder and watch him closely for his cues. “Thanks, sweetie.”

His eyes move away from my face, and his lips press together then turn down slightly.

Rats. He doesn’t want a bimbo. There goes my free drink.

I can almost hear Mona’s voice even though she’s not saying a word.Never pay for anything if there’s a man who’ll foot the bill.

I try again, watching him carefully, unwilling to be beaten. “Do you know where the closest Walmart is?”

He nods and quickly gives me directions, politely, but his feet and body are angling away from me.

“Thanks. I promised to pick up a few things for my mom, but I don’t have transport.”

Better. His attention is back on me, and he’s nodding in empathy. “It’s not far. Long as you have better footwear, you should be fine.”

Perfect. His smile is genuine, and he’s right on the cusp of offering to drive me. “Oh, well, no, I don’t. I’m such a ditz. I had this appointment with…” I pause to gesture to Mona and pull a face. “But I was so worried when Mom called, I left my sneakers at the motel.”

His eyes shift briefly to Mona then back to me. “I’m heading that way in a little bit. I could…”