Chapter 1
Leo leaned back slowly.
His face remained composed, but the small movement of his hand toward the whiskey glass stopped halfway.
“I see.”
“I don’t think you do.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“I spent eight months believing your son rescued my family.”
She heard the tremor in her own voice and hated it.
“I believed he saw me at the worst moment of my life and decided to help because he cared about me. Do you understand what that means? Every time he brought flowers to my mother, every time he asked about Dad’s appointments, every time I thought I was falling in love with someone generous…”
She stopped.
The words suddenly felt too heavy to carry.
Leo lowered his eyes.
“He should have told you.”
Myra gave a small, humorless laugh.
“That seems like a remarkably gentle way of describing what he did.”
“Yes.”
The answer surprised her.
Leo did not defend his son.
He did not explain that Nico was young, confused, joking, misunderstood, or secretly good beneath everything else.
He simply said, “Yes.”
Myra placed her shoes on the edge of a leather chair.
“Why did you pay?”
Leo glanced toward the window.
Beyond the glass, the winter garden was strung with white lights. Bare branches shimmered against the night.
“Your father helped someone who worked for me.”
“Nico said Dad took a bullet meant for one of your men.”
Leo’s jaw tightened.
“That is the simplified version.”
“What is the complicated version?”
“The complicated version is that your father saw an argument becoming dangerous and tried to pull a young man out of it. He did not know who the young man worked for. He did not know me. He acted because somebody was in trouble.”
That sounded like her father.
Painfully like him.
Daniel Bennett had spent his entire life stopping on highways to help strangers change tires, carrying groceries for elderly neighbors, and pretending not to notice when customers at the hardware store were a few dollars short.
“So you paid because you felt responsible.”
“Partly.”
“What’s the other part?”
Leo looked at her again.
“I respected what he had done.”
Something about the simplicity of the answer unsettled her more than an elaborate explanation would have.
“You could have told him.”
“I offered.”
“And?”
“Your father refused.”
Myra stared at him.
“He refused?”
“He said he didn’t want money connected to gratitude.”
“That sounds even more like him.”
Leo’s mouth shifted, almost a smile.
“He is stubborn.”
“You have no idea.”
“I suspect I do.”
For the first time that night, something inside Myra loosened.
Only slightly.
Then another thought returned.
“If Dad refused your money, how did you pay the bills?”
Leo hesitated.
That hesitation mattered.
Myra noticed it immediately.
“You did pay them, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I arranged with the hospital foundation to cover what insurance would not.”
“Without telling him?”
“He knew assistance had been arranged. He did not know where the funding originated.”
Myra frowned.
“My mother thought Nico handled it.”
“I know.”
“And you let that happen.”
Leo’s eyes hardened—not at her, but perhaps at himself.
“I did not realize what Nico was claiming until later.”
“How much later?”
“Several months.”
“And you still said nothing.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Leo looked toward the doors.
“Because by then you loved him.”
The answer landed quietly.
That somehow made it worse.
Myra wrapped her arms around herself.
“So everyone decided I was better off not knowing.”
“I decided that correcting Nico would hurt you.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make.”
“No.”
Again, no defense.
Again, no argument.
Something about Leo’s willingness to accept the accusation kept her anger from growing into something simpler.
She had expected a powerful man accustomed to controlling every room.
Instead, he seemed almost weary.
“I should have told you,” he said.
Myra looked at him.
“Yes.”
“I am sorry.”
She wanted to reject the apology because accepting any kindness from this family suddenly felt dangerous.
But she could not pretend it was meaningless.
“Thank you for helping my father,” she said. “And for saying that.”
Leo nodded.
Then his gaze moved briefly toward her bare feet.
“You should put on your shoes.”
Myra glanced down.
“I don’t think I’m staying long enough for that.”
“I wasn’t referring to the party. The marble floors are cold.”
Against every reasonable instinct, she almost laughed.
Leo reached for the telephone on his desk.
“I’ll have a car take you home.”
“No.”
He paused.
“I can call one myself.”
“Myra—”
“I need one decision tonight to actually belong to me.”
His hand stopped.
Then he nodded.
“All right.”
She picked up her shoes.
At the doorway, she stopped.
“Does my father know Nico lied?”
“No.”
“Does my mother?”
“No.”
“And Chloe?”
“I have no idea what Chloe knows.”
Myra stared at the wooden doors.
Behind them were dozens of guests who still believed she was Nico’s girlfriend.
Her parents were not there. They had declined the invitation because her father tired easily after evening therapy appointments.
She was suddenly grateful.
Leo’s voice came from behind her.
“Myra.”
She turned.
“There is something else you should know.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Nico did not begin seeing you because I asked him to.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. I simply do not want you leaving here believing every moment between you was arranged by me.”
Myra studied him.
“Was the bet real?”
Leo’s face changed.
“Yes.”
The answer was barely louder than the clock.
“Then the rest doesn’t matter tonight.”
She left.
The hallway seemed twice as long on the way back.
Guests moved through the rooms carrying champagne and dessert plates. No one stopped her until she reached the front foyer.
Then she heard Nico behind her.
“Myra?”
She kept walking.
“Myra.”
His footsteps followed.
She reached the coatroom attendant and gave her number.
Nico appeared beside her, smiling at first.
“Where have you been? Chloe said—”
His expression changed when he saw her face.
“What happened?”
Myra looked at him.
There were a hundred things she could have said.
She could have repeated every word she heard.
She could have demanded explanations.
Instead she asked, “Was there ever a ten-thousand-dollar bet?”
His face answered before his mouth did.
The coatroom attendant returned with her wool coat.
Myra thanked her and slipped it on.
“Myra, listen.”
“That was a yes-or-no question.”
“It was stupid.”
“Yes or no?”
Nico glanced toward the nearby guests.
“Not here.”
May you like
Myra almost smiled.
Of course.
