Page 4

CAROLINE

“You ready?” Sophia asks.

I spent the day prepping with the team and being instructed on the surveillance devices. Yes, I’m Langley-trained, but I’ve never served in the field.

“You sound worried.”

Her doe-eyed expression says she’s definitely worried. I understand. If anything were to happen to me, she’d bear the guilt.

“He might not be the man you remember.” She twists a pen top in her fingers, and I release an exhausted sigh.

There are two sides to Dorian. The side I fell in love with, and the emotionless, egocentric, cold individual I left. Neither of those sides are dangerous.

“Dorian won’t hurt me. Even if he’s behind this, he won’t hurt me.” Dorian can be emotionally distant and cruel, but he’d never physically hurt me.

For a time there, Dorian Moore was a media darling.

The nephew of an American president and the son of a multibillionaire, he is American royalty.

But after our split, he shunned publicity.

Perhaps his fall from press pet status contributed to his placement on the persons of interest list. He’s wealthy and shrouded in mystery, after all.

When I noticed his presence on tabloid covers diminished, I assumed he’d found someone, and she convinced him to step away from the limelight. I assumed she achieved what I hadn’t. My assumption could still be correct.

Arrow Tactical, and apparently, intelligence agencies the world over, are placing trust in this informant who holds the Moore men accountable.

But tipsters are notoriously unreliable.

An unnamed insider could be anyone from the hotdog vendor on a street to a senator with a vendetta.

I asked for information on the contact but was told that, for the source’s safety, they were not disclosing the information.

Sophia’s decision to bring me in and leverage my connection is wise. If there’s a planned attack, there’s an undeniable benefit to shortening the suspect list. My connection has value.

“There are other ways we can get what we need,” Sophia says.

“Would you stop? It’s fine. It’s a chance to work in the field.”

CIA candidates technically don’t know what they’ll be assigned to after going through training, but I never stood a chance of a coveted spy role, thanks to my marriage. Facial recognition will almost always recognize me, even if hardly anyone recognizes me on the street these days.

Stella joins us. She’s juggling a bottle of wine, three hard plastic wineglasses, and a corkscrew.

“Got your flight booked,” Stella announces. “Let’s head to the rooftop. We can watch the sunset and hear all about your date with Mr. Sexy.”

“Oh, yes. Luke.” Sophia’s devilish grin says she’s aware I’d rather not chat about my date.

I wish I’d never mentioned Luke to these two. It’s not until I push open the heavy door to the roof and suck in the salty air do I find calm. I’ve been jittery all day, and while I’d like to lie to myself and claim it’s due to the unexpected turn of events at work, I’m well aware of the truth.

Stella starts unscrewing the cork, and Sophia sets the glasses down on one of the small tables.

The setting sun colors the horizon salmon pink with flecks of gold, crossing the Pacific in the distance.

I’ve always loved the view from the rooftop of Arrow’s offices.

Sitting up here, seeing the tops of palm trees and cyclists in the street, you’d never know it’s December.

At street level, it’s a different story, full of reminders, with decorations adorning the light poles and every business featuring a holiday window display.

“So, Luke…” Sophia says.

“We had one dinner,” I say. We also had a lunch date, but I don’t need to remind these two. “I enjoy talking with him. He keeps up with current events.” I keep my voice flat to set expectations.

“I may have screwed things up,” Sophia says with a scrunch of her nose. “Don’t be mad.”

What could she do? “Oh, my god.” I can’t believe her. “Do not tell me you planned a double date.”

“What? No. Double dates aren’t Fisher’s thing.”

That’s good to know, and one more reason to like Fisher. She got together with her husband on her first assignment in the field. I was one of the few within the CIA who knew they were dating back then. They’ve been married for years.

“Luke’s on the ground support team. He asked why you were selected to go on-site.” Sophia’s hands flutter, a defensive motion of hers when she thinks she needs to explain herself, which means she told him everything. “He’s on the team. It’s not information we keep secret.”

“You didn’t tell him you’d been married before?” Stella asks, picking up on the issue.

“We didn’t discuss prior relationships.” They both look at me like I’ve got a bloody nose. “One dinner,” I remind them. “I wasn’t keeping it a secret. It’s fine.”

“I get that,” Stella says. “I was married before Trevor, and I rarely talk about that asshole.”

“I didn’t know that,” I say.

Stella’s never mentioned a prior marriage, but why would she? That’s exactly the point I was making.

Stella passes me a glass of wine, and I gladly take it.

“Was it a bad divorce?” Stella asks.

“Nooo.” I draw the word out, remembering that painful time. But, I mean, are there any good divorces?

“He’s richer than Jack Sullivan, isn’t he?” Stella asks. “You must’ve walked away with a mint.”

I sip my wine rather than dignify that with a response.

“And no,” Stella says, “we didn’t do a detailed background report on you when you were hired. Since you were coming from the CIA and were referred by Sophia, we did the minimum. I just know you don’t have debt.”

“That’s where I’m not feeling good about this plan,” Sophia says. “Are you certain he doesn’t know what you do?”

“Like I told the team, he has no knowledge that I ever worked for the CIA. I applied to Langley after we separated.”

“But couldn’t a friend in common have told him?”

“If you have these concerns, why didn’t you speak up at the meeting?”

She licks her upper lip. Hesitant. “Because I didn’t want to cast doubt on your ability to do this.”

“You recommended me as a hire and didn’t want to look bad.”

“That’s not it at all,” Sophia says, a tad too defensively to be believable.

“All right. I’m a little lost here,” Stella says. “I think we got off track.”

I close my eyes and tilt my head back, stretching my throat. Sophia is not my enemy. She’s one of my closest friends.

“It’s been years since he’s contacted me,” I say, swirling the wine. “As far as my friends know, I work for a bank. It’s the easy answer to give, since no one asks about a boring corporate job.”

When I walked away from Dorian, I walked away from our mutual friends, too. I exited his world, or more like fled. “If he ever ran into a mutual acquaintance, which is doubtful, that’s what he’d hear.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t have kids with him,” Stella says. Her eyes widen. “Do you have kids?”

I half-chuckle. “A child would’ve shown on my health insurance forms, Stella.”

“Unless they were on his. Someone that wealthy probably has an executive health care plan and doesn’t need health insurance. His net worth is what? Over two hundred billion?”

Hmm. That’s true. I don’t remember what he did for health insurance. We had private doctors from a concierge healthcare practice. The best of the best. I’d walk into a medical practice, and they knew me. I never showed a card or paid for anything.

“How do you think he’ll react when you knock on his door?” Stella asks.

“You mean show up at his gate,” I correct. Is this impromptu cocktail hour more of a second prep meeting than curiosity about my dinner date?

I glance between the two women. There’s no reason for me to bottle this inside. If Stella ran a full background report on me, she’d pick up on it quickly.

“He’s expecting me. Either me or a lawyer. I’m sure he’s wondering what’s taken me so long.”

Sophia cuts her eyes to me. She’s quick. Always has been.

“Your divorce still isn’t settled? I’ve heard of divorces taking years…my parents, for one,” she says, clearly doing math in her head. “I told you if you needed money, I’d give it to you.”

Her exasperation is almost endearing. As if borrowing money from a friend, or my parents, is an easy choice.

“I know it sounds crazy.”

Stella’s mouth forms a circle. “Honey, how many years have you been dealing with lawyers?” she asks.

“I moved out when I was twenty-four. I’m thirty-one now.”

“Honey.”

I let out a sigh. “I haven’t fought him because he could easily out-lawyer me.”

“So what’s…” Stella’s confused expression is almost comical. At least, it would be if the joke wasn’t on me.

“After I left, I thought he’d send divorce papers.

He didn’t. I eventually found a website, you know, one of those that still cost money, but it’s way cheaper than a lawyer?

” They both nod. “Let’s call it GetADivorce.com.

I don’t really know what it was, but I mailed him the papers.

I figured his lawyers would take one look at it and they’d mark it up or whatever, and I’d sign whatever he sent back. ”

“But?”

“He sent an email stating that I owed him half of this land I inherited. It pissed me off.” I meet Sophia’s gaze. She remembers this. She has to. I fumed to her for hours.

“You’re still fighting over that land?”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told him I disagreed. Via email. I clarified that by waiving my rights to the amount stipulated in the prenup, he should waive any claim on the land I inherited during our marriage.”

“And?”

“Nothing. I never heard from him.”

They’re both staring at me like I’m a fool, and I get it—I’d give them the same treatment if the situation were reversed.

“I should’ve followed up. I understand. I probably should’ve hired a lawyer, but I figured there was no need. I thought he would meet someone and need the divorce. He’d send me papers to sign, and it would be over.”

“What about taxes?” Sophia asks.