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.

Armond didn't say a word. He gripped Kate's wrist and pulled her away from the crowd, marching her toward the private stables at the edge of the club.

"Armond, you're hurting me!" Kate gasped, stumbling in the grass.

He dragged her into the cool, hay-scented shadows of the stable and spun her around, pinning her against a wooden stall door.

"What were you talking about?" Armond demanded. "Are you two reminiscing? Planning a reunion?"

"He was threatening me!" Kate rubbed her wrist. "You know he hates me."

"I saw the way he looked at you," Armond snarled. "Like he owns you."

"He doesn't own anything," Kate snapped.

"Good." Armond turned and grabbed the bridle of a massive black stallion. "Since you seem to have a problem with boundaries, let me teach you how to handle beasts."

"What are you doing?" Kate backed away.

"Get on." It wasn't a request.

Armond led the horse out. He lifted Kate by the waist, his hands strong and unyielding, depositing her onto the saddle. Before she could protest, he swung himself up behind her.

His chest pressed against her back. His legs framed hers. The intimacy was suffocating and electric.

"Hold the reins," he ordered, his breath hot on her neck. He covered her hands with his. "If you don't control him, he'll throw you. Just like men like Lucas."

He kicked the horse into a gallop.

They surged forward, tearing across the open field away from the club. The wind whipped Kate's hair. She screamed, leaning back instinctively into Armond's solid warmth.

"Open your eyes!" Armond yelled over the wind. "Don't hide. steer him!"

They rode hard, the physical exertion mirroring the tension between them. Armond was asserting control, claiming her space, marking her.

He slowed the horse near a line of trees. Kate was panting, her heart racing from the adrenaline and the proximity.

"Lucas Sterling is a bully," Armond said, his voice lower now, right in her ear. "You don't negotiate with bullies. You break them."

Kate turned her head slightly. His face was inches from hers. "And you? How do I handle you?"

Armond paused. His gaze dropped to her lips. "You submit. It's your only option."

He crushed his mouth to hers. It was a punishing kiss, full of frustration and desire. Kate tried to push him away, but her hands curled into his shirt instead. She opened to him, the chemistry between them undeniable and dangerous.

Armond's phone rang.

He broke the kiss, breathing hard. He cursed and pulled the phone from his pocket.

"What?" he barked.

It was the investigator. "Mr. Emerson. We found a discrepancy in the Swiss records. The clinic Ms. Silva visited... it specializes in obstetrics."

Armond went still. The heat in his veins turned to ice.

"Keep digging," he said softly. "Find out everything."

He hung up. He looked at the back of Kate's head, at the woman he had just kissed.

"Get down," Armond said, his voice devoid of emotion. "The lesson is over."