The reception desk at Emerson International was a slab of black obsidian that looked more like an altar than a workspace. The receptionist, a woman whose bone structure seemed aerodynamic, didn't even look up from her screen.

"Mr. Emerson is not accepting walk-ins. Do you have an appointment?"

"No," Kate said, gripping her phone. Armond hadn't answered last night. "But it's urgent."

"Please leave your card."

Kate turned away, frustration clawing at her throat. She couldn't leave. She saw the private elevator lights ding. The doors slid open, and a man in a sharp grey suit stepped out, checking his tablet.

Sebastian. Armond's right hand. The man who had handed her the NDA five years ago.

Kate lunged across the lobby. "Seb!"

Security started to move, but Sebastian looked up. His eyes widened slightly behind his rimless glasses. He held up a hand to halt the guards.

"Ms. Silva," Sebastian said, his voice neutral. "You shouldn't be here."

"I need five minutes," Kate pleaded. "Please."

"The boss is... in a mood. And you know the rules. No contact."

"Tell him it's about the watch," Kate whispered, leaning in. "Tell him I'm here to settle the debt for 'V'."

Sebastian stiffened. He looked at her, really looked at her, seeing the desperation in her eyes. He tapped his earpiece. "Sir? She's here... Yes. She mentioned the watch." A pause. "Understood."

He looked at Kate. "You have five minutes. Don't make me regret this."

The elevator ride was silent and suffocating. When the doors opened to the penthouse office, the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

Armond sat behind a desk that was large enough to land a plane on. He didn't look up from the documents he was signing.

"If you're here for a payout for last night's services, talk to legal," Armond said. His voice was a deep baritone that vibrated in Kate's chest.

The insult stung, but Kate swallowed her pride. It tasted like ash. She walked up to the desk.

"I don't want your money. I want protection. Lucas Sterling is destroying my gallery and physically attacking my family."

Armond finally looked up. His eyes were the color of steel, cold and impenetrable. "Why should I care about the fate of a small-time curator? Or Sterling? He's an insect."

"Because," Kate placed her hands on the desk, leaning forward, "you need a fiancée. The Board is jittery about the rumors of your instability. They think your OCD is getting worse. They want a family man."

Armond's eyes narrowed. "You've been listening to gossip."

"I've been doing my homework," Kate lied. Chloe had found the rumors on a deep-web forum. "You need a respectable, harmless image to close the merger with the Japanese tech firm. I can be that."

Armond stood up. He moved around the desk with the grace of a predator. He stopped inches from her. Kate forced herself not to flinch. He smelled of sandalwood and power.

He reached out, his fingers gripping her chin, tilting her face up. "You want to be my shield? Do you know what that entails?"

"It means I smile at your dinners, ignore your affairs, and deal with Evette Duncan trying to stab me in the back with a salad fork," Kate said, meeting his gaze.

"You have a sharp tongue," Armond murmured. His thumb brushed her lower lip, a touch that was possessive, not affectionate. "But how do I know you won't run away again? You seem to be good at disappearing when things get real."

"Draw up a contract," Kate said. "If I leave, you can put me in jail for corporate espionage. I'll sign anything."

Armond released her, turning to look out the floor-to-ceiling window. "Lucas Sterling..." he said the name like it was a foul taste. "He annoyed me at the gala."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic card. He slid it across the polished wood of the conference table. It spun and stopped right in front of Kate.

"The Four Seasons. Penthouse Suite," Armond said, his back to her. "Wait for me there tonight. If you can prove you're... committed to this arrangement, I'll consider it."

Kate stared at the key card. It was a proposition. A test. A humiliation.

It was Leo's safety.

She picked up the card. It felt heavy. "Deal."

She walked out without looking back.

Armond watched her reflection in the glass. He didn't care about the Board. He owned the Board. But Kate Silva had run from him once, leaving a void he refused to acknowledge. Now, she was back in his trap.

Sebastian walked in. "Sir? Sterling is calling about the acquisition."

"Ignore him," Armond said. "But keep an eye on him. I want to see just how desperate she is."

The Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons was larger than Kate's entire childhood home. It was decorated in shades of cream and gold, screaming quiet luxury.

Kate paced the living room floor. She had been waiting for two hours. Her nerves were frayed wires. She walked over to the minibar to pour a glass of water, her hand trembling.

On the writing desk, a stack of files sat next to a leather folio. Kate knew she shouldn't look. She was here as a supplicant, not a spy. But the corner of a photograph was sticking out from under the leather.

She pulled it.

It was a polaroid. Grainy, candid. A younger Armond, looking less like a statue and more like a man, laughing. His arm was draped around a woman with dark, laughing eyes. On the woman's wrist was the Patek Philippe. The engraving on the back-she remembered from the morning-said A.E. & V.

Vanessa. The ghost. The woman who died and took Armond's heart with her.

The sound of the electronic lock buzzing made Kate jump. She shoved the photo back, knocking a heavy fountain pen onto the floor.

Armond walked in, followed closely by Sebastian. He stopped, his eyes darting immediately to the desk.

"What are you doing?" His voice was a whip crack.

"I... I was looking for a napkin," Kate stammered, backing away.

Armond strode over to the desk. He checked the alignment of the papers. He seemed to relax, just a fraction, when he saw the photo was covered. He turned to Sebastian.

"Take these. No business tonight."

Sebastian gathered the files and left, closing the door with a soft click. The silence that followed was heavy.

Armond loosened his tie, tossing it onto the sofa. He looked at Kate, his gaze sweeping over her like he was appraising a piece of real estate.

"Did you shower?" he asked bluntly.

Kate felt heat rush to her cheeks. She nodded.

"Good." He walked toward her. He didn't touch her immediately. He stood close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him.

"Lucas Sterling's audit on your gallery has been flagged for internal review," Armond said. "Your accounts will be unfrozen by morning."

Kate blinked, stunned by the speed of his power. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. It's a down payment." He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of her collarbone. His touch was electric, sending a shiver down her spine. "Now, fulfill your end."

Kate closed her eyes. She had agreed to this. She leaned into his touch.

Armond moved closer, lowering his head to kiss the pulse point of her neck. But then he froze.

He inhaled sharply.

Kate opened her eyes. Armond had pulled back, a frown marring his forehead.

His fingers, tracing the line of her neck, brushed against something fine and almost invisible. He pulled his hand back, holding a single, dark, baby-fine strand of hair between his thumb and forefinger. It was not hers.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice suddenly cold.

Kate's heart stopped. "Whose hair is this?"

"I... I don't know," she stammered, her mind racing. Her niece? Chloe's baby? The lie felt flimsy even in her own head. "It must be from the gallery."

Armond looked disturbed. The foreign object, the unexplained intimacy it implied, triggered something in his orderly mind. It killed the mood instantly.

"Go wash your neck," he ordered, stepping away from her as if she were contagious. "I don't like it."

Kate's hand flew to her neck, covering the spot he had almost kissed. "I... yes. Okay."

She rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She turned on the shower, sinking to the floor. She buried her face in her hands. That was too close. He had found a piece of his son on her.

In the living room, Armond stared at the bathroom door. He picked up his phone.

"Get me the private investigator," he texted Sebastian. "I want a full timeline of Kate Silva's life for the last five years. Month by month. Especially the time in Switzerland."

He looked at the desk where the photo of Vanessa lay hidden. Kate was hiding something. And he was going to tear her apart until he found it.

The blades of the helicopter sliced through the humid air as they descended onto the pristine lawn of the Greenwich Polo Club. Kate gripped the leather armrest.

"Relax," Armond said, his voice low in her headset. "You look like you're going to an execution."

"Social execution," Kate muttered.

She was wearing a white vintage dress Armond had had delivered that morning. It fit perfectly, which was terrifying.

When they stepped out, the cameras started clicking. Armond took her hand. His grip was firm, possessive. He pulled her close, presenting a united front to the vultures.

"Smile," he whispered against her ear. "Don't embarrass me."

They walked toward the VIP tent. Kate saw them immediately. Lucas and Estelle. Lucas was holding a champagne flute, his knuckles white as he watched Kate approach on the arm of the most powerful man in New York.

Estelle looked like she had swallowed a lemon. "How?" she hissed to Lucas. "How is she with him?"

Armond didn't even acknowledge Lucas's existence. He walked past him as if he were a piece of furniture. It was the ultimate insult.

Inside the tent, the air was cooler. Kate took a breath, but it was cut short by a figure in a red jumpsuit blocking her path.

Evette Duncan. The shipping heiress. Armond's ex-fiancée.

"Armond, darling!" Evette kissed Armond on both cheeks, lingering too long. Then she turned her predatory gaze to Kate.

"And this must be the consultant," Evette said, her voice carrying over the chatter. "I heard you charge by the hour. Two million for the night, was it?"

A ripple of titters went through the nearby group of socialites. Kate felt the blood drain from her face.

Armond stood still. He was watching Kate. Waiting.

Kate straightened her spine. She thought of Leo. She thought of the gallery. "Actually, Ms. Duncan, my rates are based on value added. Something you might struggle to afford, given your family's recent stock performance."

The laughter stopped. Evette's eyes narrowed into slits. "Clever girl. Let's see if you're as good in bed as you are at reading financial reports."

Suddenly, a shout from the field drew everyone's attention. A horse had spooked, breaking through the low wooden barrier near the tent.

The crowd screamed.

Before Kate could react, an arm clamped around her waist. Armond yanked her behind him, shielding her body with his own. The horse thundered past, inches from them, mud flying.

It happened in a split second. Armond's reaction was instinctual. Pure protection.

When the horse was corralled, Armond released her. He smoothed his jacket, looking annoyed, but his eyes scanned her quickly for injuries.

Lucas took the opportunity to approach, emboldened by the chaos. "Mr. Emerson," he said, stepping into their space. "I heard you're looking at the tech sector. Sterling Group has some-"

"Who are you?" Armond interrupted, his voice flat.

Lucas's face turned a violent shade of red.

Kate felt a surge of dark satisfaction.

Later, during the divot stomp, Kate found herself separated from Armond by a throng of people. Lucas materialized at her elbow.

"You think you're safe?" Lucas whispered, his breath smelling of alcohol. "I know about the kid in Queens. A little boy. Does Emerson know he's paying for another man's bastard?"

Kate froze. "You stay away from him."

"If Emerson finds out you're playing him, hiding a kid... he'll crush you. You're walking on a knife's edge, Kate."

Across the field, Armond was watching. He saw Lucas lean in close to Kate. He saw the intensity on their faces.

Jealousy, hot and irrational, flared in his chest. He didn't know what they were saying, but he saw the intimacy of enemies.

He started walking toward them, his strides long and angry.