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I actually know far more about our old friend Nick Ivanov than I can let on to Dorian since I debriefed an undercover operative tasked with working for Nick.

Due to close ties in the operation, Arrow had been given an opportunity to debrief the operative after his faked death and before he returned to civilian life.

“Nick’s Nick.” Dorian says, scooting the stool away and lifting our plate to take it to the dishwasher.

“Does he still frequent those clubs?”

The undercover operative mentioned a few as meeting locations, but I didn’t dig deep into Nick’s personal life.

That wasn’t my objective at the time of the debrief.

It was before Nick was targeted and a hit placed on him, so our questions centered on Nick’s businesses, specifically the arms deals he brokered.

Dorian answers, his back to me, sleeves pushed up, as he rinses our dishes. That’s got to be my favorite look of his, cleaning in the kitchen. He hasn’t put his watch back on, and his forearms flex as he moves the plate under the stream of water.

“I don’t know.” He opens the dishwater and sets a plate inside. “Well, that’s not true. On one of my last trips, he went.” He turns, making a point of looking me in the eye. “He invited me. I declined.”

You could have gone is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back. He obviously knows he could have gone.

“But he’s in a serious relationship now.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Sophia and Fisher went abroad and assisted Nick when he was attacked. I wasn’t on the project team. It was a rescue operation, and I was aware of it, but it all happened quickly. Sophia handled the reporting, and to my knowledge, there was no debrief.

If asked to join the project, I’d been prepared to remind Sophia that I have a personal connection to Nicholas Ivanov. I did include the information on the debrief report when meeting with the undercover operative, code name: Saint.

But now I suspect Sophia had been well-aware. She obviously hadn’t forgotten I’d been married to Dorian Moore, and she took care to bring me onto Project Unity without blindsiding me.

“Maybe one day we can visit him. Go back to our old stomping grounds.”

I grin. “Wasn’t that long ago, but it feels like a lifetime, right?”

Dishes rattle as he closes the dishwasher.

“I’m surprised you didn’t leave the dishes for the cleaning service.”

“If I’d done that, you would’ve cleaned.” He rests his hands on the counter opposite me, a smile playing across his lips. The effect lightens the exhaustion haunting his dark eyes.

“My assignment is to evaluate all alternatives. If it’s not you, your father, or Nick, who else could it be?”

“How long would you say this strategy has been in play?”

“Years. It’s been in the works for years.”

“Are you asking me about other syndicate members?”

I shrug. “I’m not looking into them. Others are. Just curious on your take.”

“On my take.” He exhales. “I’m curious about this company of yours.”

“Oh?”

“You know those clubs you were asking me about?”

Nick spoke about them once. That’s the only reason I know about them… That and the undercover operative mentioned them in the debrief.

When Nick tried to get me and Dorian to join him one night in London, Dorian shut him down. And Nick was absolutely joyous. “Now I know she’s the one. I want to be your best man. You hear me!” he’d shouted. We’d only been together for a month, maybe two. He’d come across like a lunatic.

In retrospect, he’d been prescient. Dorian proposed weeks later. I’d gone home at the end of my semester and had gotten sick on the flight. He showed up at my door with chicken soup and insisted he didn’t care if he got the flu; he simply wanted to take care of me.

“Those clubs…” he prompts, bringing me back to the topic at hand.

“Yeah?”

“Your boss’s brother is a frequent visitor.”

“Ryan? He doesn’t have a brother.”

“I don’t know a Ryan. Jack Sullivan. His brother, Liam, from what I understand, is a fixture on the scene. Lives in Houston, but he travels.”

“Jack’s not my boss.”

“He owns your company. Doesn’t that make him your boss?”

“Technically.” I hold up a hand. “I don’t want to hear about Sophia’s father’s sex life.”

“Not her father, her uncle.”

“Same,” I say. “None of this is material.”

“Maybe,” he says.

“What does that mean?”

“Just that maybe you should broaden your scope.”

“That reminds me. Can you get me a list of your father’s staff? Everyone who works with him?”

He sighs like he’s tired, and I can understand why he is, why I keep coming back to him. But he is my assignment, and I need to focus and clear him. There’s a sadness to Dorian’s expression, and I sense he’s about to say more when my phone lights up.

SF

We need you back here tomorrow. A car will pick you up at 9.

Is she still on about my safety? No, they heard everything Dorian said. He shouldn’t be a suspect—not anymore. My assignment must be changing. Dorian reads the message on my screen, and I lift my shoulders, shrugging because I learned at the same time he did.

“You can’t stay the weekend?” He’s incredulous, and I don’t blame him. I said I’d stay the weekend.

“Can we not argue? Can we just go to bed?”

His entire expression changes, and the next thing I know, I’m in the air, legs around his waist, being hoisted up the stairs.

“What’re you doing?” I shriek, laughing.

“Fulfilling your wishes, because I thought you’d never ask.”