Page 12 of Forty, Flirty & Framed

The mention of one of my best friends Alex Drake, newlywed golden boy of our group, briefly distracts me.“How’s married life treating the overachiever?”

“Disgustingly well.He and Mackenzie are in Japan on her book tour.He texts hourly about soulmates and cherry blossoms.”

“He’s worse than this one,” Luke adds, nodding at Grayson.

Grayson just shrugs.“The word ‘fiancée has a ring to it than ‘girlfriend.’What can I say?”

Then Luke narrows his eyes at me.Analyst mode engaged.“Okay.But why is your ex-brother’s ex suddenly working out of your office?”

I tug down on the lat bar harder than necessary.“IT’s looking into how her credentials were used to post that list.”

“And you’re supervising personally because…?”

“Because I’m only here in Seattle until the MacTavis acquisition.And as far as this little sabotage campaign goes, she’s either behind it or being framed.Either way, I want eyes on it.”

“Interesting,” Grayson muses.“Especially since we never heard you once mention her when Richard was dating her.”

An ache kicks up behind my ribs.Nothing to do with exercise.

“I was in Scotland,” I say, too quickly.“Didn’t exactly have front-row seats to his romantic disasters.”

“Three years is a long time to dodge a single introduction,” Luke observes.

“I met her,” I mutter.“Once.”

Connor perks up.“When?”

“Richard’s Halloween party.Two years ago.”

The memory sucker-punches me—visceral and sharp-edged.

I’d flown in from Edinburgh, jet-lagged and cranky, only to be guilted into attending my brother’s annual costume circus.Expected cheap beer and a herd of twenty-somethings mistaking polyester for personality.

Did not expecther.

She was across the room, backlit by chandelier light, dark hair falling over bare shoulders, dressed in flowing silk and a laurel crown.

Persephone.

And I—because irony's a bastard—was Hades.

Custom-tailored black suit.Obsidian lapels.Charcoal body paint crawling up my hands like smoke.

I even wore eyeliner.Not the lazy Halloween kind—actual, smudge-proof kohl.

We talked for twenty minutes.Banter sharp enough to make even my ornery ass smile.She teased me for the eyeliner; I told her I wore it better than Bowie.

And then Richard showed up.

Wrapped an arm around her waist like a claim.Kissed her temple.Introduced me.

The look on her face when she heard my name—like her soul briefly hit the brakes.

She felt it too.

I left half an hour later under the pretense of a business call.

Hadn’t spoken to her since.