Chapter 5: Behind the Diamond

MAYA

The box arrived by courier, not by hand.

I almost laughed at that. An engagement ring delivered like a package. Signed for at my dorm's front desk by an assistant who had no idea what she was holding. I carried it upstairs without opening it. I set it on my desk and stared at it a full minute before I lifted the lid.

The ring fit before I even tried it on. I could tell just by looking, the way you sometimes know a shoe will fit before your foot is in it. When I slid it onto my finger it settled like it had been made for me. Not assigned to me. Not pulled from some approved vendor list.

I texted Liam without meaning to.

It fits.

I know, he wrote back. I picked it, not the assistant. Figured you'd notice the difference.

I stared at that message longer than I should have. Something about it sat differently than the rest of the arrangement. A choice, not a formality.

The Athletics Foundation dinner was that Friday, our first official appearance as a couple. I spent an hour deciding what to wear. I spent another hour telling myself the decision didn't matter as much as it felt like it did.

Liam picked me up himself, no driver, which wasn't in the contract either. He didn't comment on the dress. He just opened the car door and waited until I was settled before he closed it.

The dinner was exactly what I expected. A ballroom full of donors and board members. My father worked one side of the room. Marcus Cross worked the other. Both of them orbited toward each other and away again with practiced precision.

Liam stayed close most of the night. One hand at the small of my back whenever we moved through the crowd. Steady and warm and never presumptuous.

Twice he appeared at my side before I'd even looked for him. Once a board member cornered me with questions about my father's investigation, sharp enough to make my skin prickle. Liam arrived with two drinks and a smooth redirection before I had to answer anything. The second time was smaller. Just a hand at my elbow when I stumbled on the parquet floor, there before I'd even registered losing my balance.

Neither moment was in the contract. I noticed both times.

By the time we left, close to midnight, I was tired in a way that had nothing to do with the hour. Liam drove us back himself, quiet at first, the city lights sliding past the windows.

"You were good in there." He glanced over. "With Whitford, I mean."

"You got to me before I had to test that theory."

"That's the job." Something warmer than strategy crossed his face. "I meant it, though. You handled him well."

I looked out the window instead of at him. "Thanks."

We drove in silence after that, comfortable in a way I hadn't expected silence with him to feel. The radio played low, something old and unfamiliar. I found myself watching his hands on the wheel. The careful way he took the turns. I didn't examine too closely why I was watching at all.

When he pulled up outside my building he didn't get out right away. Neither did I.

"Thank you for tonight." I turned to face him. "For the ring. For Whitford."

"You don't have to thank me for doing my part of the contract."

"It didn't feel like the contract back there."

He was quiet a moment, looking at me in the dashboard light.

"No." His voice was quiet. "It didn't."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing. Neither did he. The silence held a beat too long to be comfortable and not long enough to be answered.

I got out first. He waited until I'd reached the door before pulling away, headlights sweeping across the building as he turned.

Upstairs, I set my bag down and pulled out my phone, already half expecting what I'd find. A new message from the unknown number, sent an hour earlier while we were still inside the ballroom.

A photo. Me and Liam on the front steps of the venue, caught from across the street. My face circled faintly in red.

I'm still watching.

I sat down hard on the edge of my bed. The ring was still on my finger. The warmth of the evening drained out of me all at once. Whoever this was had been close enough to photograph us and far enough not to be seen doing it.

I didn't sleep much that night. I kept the phone face up on my nightstand. I checked it every hour, like watching would keep whoever this was from getting closer.

Somewhere around three I gave up on sleep entirely. I lay there running through every face from the dinner that might belong to someone with a camera and a grudge. None of them fit. All of them fit. By the time the sky started to lighten I still had nothing. Only the ring on my finger and a photo I couldn't stop seeing when I closed my eyes.