Chapter 5

At five sharp. I watched Claire Morrison exit Pierce Tower’s executive garage. Something felt off seeing such a petite woman climb into a fully loaded Jeep Grand Cherokee L Summit Reserve.

I kept my Porsche Cayenne GTS at a discreet distance, trailing her fifteen minutes north to The Estates at Greenwich Cove – one of those ultra–private communities where homes start at eight figures. Not exactly the neighborhood you’d expect for someone in Operations.

The guard at the limestone gatehouse barely glanced at my Cayenne’s diplomatic plates before waving me through. I fed him some line about visiting a friend from the country club.

I parked a few houses down from where her Jeep sat in a lusated circular driveway. The whole time, I kept asking myself what the hell I was doing. This wasn’t me following people, playing amateur detective.

Maybe it was those telltale marks on her neck. Maybe it was that smudged MAC Russian Red.

Either way, my anxiety was in the driver’s seat now.

Just as I was about to put this ridiculous stalking expedition behind me, another car glided into view.

car I’d recognize anywhere.

Nathan’s Rolls–Royce Cullinan Black Badge.

blood froze, My Cartier watch ticked off

in front

No movement

I pulled

his voice warm through

beautiful, everything

“Still at the office?

about that Hudson Yards project. Needed someone from Operations for

bring?” My voice sounded distant

knows the numbers inside

hurry out clutching

worry about earlier – just conference call

seven. I’ll pick up dinner from Jean–Georges on my way home.”

forced myself

was completely transparent. Nothing hidden.

Pure coincidence.

senator’s impromptu request. Claire being the numbers person.

Newport style fountain toward

Cayenne, something made me

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