Nathan was still on his call when I let myself into the penthouse.

"No," he said to the screen. "If London wants the extension, London can pay for it. We're not funding their mistakes twice."

A man with a British accent started to argue. Nathan cut him off with one raised finger.

"Send me the revised numbers by morning your time. Not a summary. The numbers."

I waited by the window and smoothed the front of my dress. Emerald silk, cut low in the back. I'd pinned my hair up so nothing would hide the diamond studs in my ears. My mother wore them on her wedding day. I hadn't worn them in two years. Ethan once said they made me look "try-hard."

Nathan ended the call and glanced up.

Then he stopped.

It was barely a second. His hand stayed on the laptop lid, half-closed. His eyes went from my hair to my shoulders and back to my face.

"You're early," he said.

"You're staring."

He shut the laptop, crossed the room, and lifted his black overcoat off the chair. He folded it over my arm.

"The terrace gets windy," he said. "The gala's on the terrace after dinner."

I blinked at him. Then I laughed.

"Look at you. You finally learned how to talk like a human being."

"Don't get used to it."

I kept the coat on my arm. I didn't put it on. I'd picked this dress for myself, and I wasn't covering it up for anyone.

He noticed. He didn't argue.

---

The museum glowed. Gold light spilled down the stone steps, and cameras flashed at the entrance.

I saw Ethan the second we walked in.

Navy suit. Hand-stitched lapels. Perfect shoulders.

I knew that suit. I'd had it made for him last fall by a tailor on Mott Street. He'd turned it inside out in our bedroom and frowned.

*There's no label, Liv. How is anyone supposed to know it's expensive?*

He was wearing it now like armor.

Nathan was watching me. "Something wrong?"

"No." I scanned the room for red. Red nails, red dress, red lipstick. "Is Scarlett here yet?"

"I didn't check."

"Of course you didn't." I slid my hand through the crook of his arm and squeezed. "Okay. Here's the deal. I help you, you help me. She sees you with me, he sees me with you. Everybody suffers. Fair?"

Nathan looked down at me. His voice went low.

"You really think I care about her?"

"Mm-hm." I was already rising on my toes to see past a waiter's tray. "Is that her by the sculpture? No. Too short."

He let out a quiet breath through his nose. It might have been a laugh. It might have been something else. I was too busy to decide.

---

Ethan hadn't seen me. He was guiding a woman in silver through the crowd, one hand pressed at the small of her back.

I knew her face from a dozen financial magazines. Victoria Grant. Widowed three years ago. She ran Grant & Rowe, a boutique fund that picked maybe two startups a year.

Ethan's fingers slid lower on her waist.

Victoria reached back, lifted his hand away, and dropped it like a used napkin.

He grinned at once. "Sorry. The steps here are steep. I didn't want you to trip."

"I've been walking in heels since 1987, Mr. Cole."

"Of course. Of course."

Nathan's arm went stiff under my hand. "That's who he's pitching?"

"Apparently."

"Bold."

"Stupid," I said.

Ethan turned. His gaze swept past us, then snapped back.

For one moment his face opened. His lips parted. He took in the dress, the earrings, the way I stood. He looked at me the way he'd looked at the yacht in that video.

Then he saw Nathan.

And his jaw locked.

"Olivia." He walked over, Victoria a step behind. "Wow. So that's how it is."

"How what is?"

"You already found a new guy to pay your bills." He smirked at Nathan. "Good luck, man. She's expensive."

Nathan didn't move. His hand came to rest at the small of my back. Light. Steady.

Victoria was looking at me now. Really looking. Her smile vanished.

"Ethan," she said quietly. "Apologize. Right now."

He laughed and touched her elbow, like they were on the same team. "Victoria, it's fine. You don't know her. She's a freelancer. Some little consulting gigs from her laptop." He tilted his head at me. "Her real job is getting close to rich people. Right, Liv? You've upgraded."

A couple near the bar went quiet.

I didn't defend myself. I didn't even look at him.

I looked at Victoria.

"Is this the founder you're planning to take to your investment committee?"

Two men beside the champagne tower stopped talking. I recognized them. Partners from Grant & Rowe. They'd sat through Ethan's pitch last month. I'd read their notes.

One of them set his glass down.

Victoria pulled her arm free from Ethan's hand.

"Let's be clear," she said, loud enough for the partners to hear. "Grant & Rowe has made no commitment to Lumen. None."

Ethan's grin wobbled. "Victoria, we talked about the timeline—"

"We talked. That's all." She turned her shoulder to me, almost protective. "Do you have any idea who you're speaking to?"

"I told you. She's—"

"She's Olivia Bennett. Of Bennett Capital." Victoria's voice turned sharp. "She's the one who's been evaluating your company this whole time. Every introduction you've bragged about came through her desk."

Ethan didn't speak.

His eyes went to my ears. To my mother's diamonds. Then down to Nathan's hand at my back.

I watched it happen. Harlow. Brightwell. Kessler. The calls he never had to make. The meetings that showed up on his calendar like magic.

His face lost its color, one shade at a time.

"No," he said. "No, you—you said you were doing freelance work."

"I said I worked from my laptop." I tipped my head. "You never asked what was on it."

My phone lit up in my clutch.

Maya.

*Northgate Holdings. Formation Document, Page 1. Thought you might want it handy.*

I opened the attachment and read the top line. *Northgate Holdings LLC. Sole Managing Member: Olivia R. Bennett.*

I turned the screen toward him.

"Last night you asked what I could give you," I said. "Now you get to see what losing me costs."

Ethan stared at the screen. His throat moved. Nothing came out.

Then a voice rang out behind him, bright and sweet.

"Babe? Who's this?"

I didn't need to turn around. I already knew the shade of her lipstick.