Chapter 2

I hadn't even made it out of the ballroom when Lydia hurried after me with a glass in her hand.

"Ms. Walker, please wait." Her voice was soft, but everyone nearby could hear. "My doctor told me not to drink tonight. Could you drink this one for me? Just this last time. Alexander says you can really hold your liquor. Please..."

I stopped and looked at the clear liquor in the glass. The engagement party wasn't even over, and someone nearby was already chiming in with a laugh. "Irene used to be the best at handling Alexander's guests. She'll take care of it, no problem."

Used to. Two words, tossed out so lightly. I used to remember every guest's dietary restrictions. I knew who had just recovered from an illness and which donor couldn't stand hearing about divorce. Now the new woman had arrived, and even the chore of drinking on her behalf was being dumped on me.

Alexander was standing a few steps away. I looked at him, waiting for him to step in.

He stepped between Lydia and the guests urging her to drink, explaining that she had an early morning. But when he looked at me, he said nothing.

A sharp cramp twisted through my stomach.

Last winter, my stomach problems had flared up so badly I could barely stand. He drove me to the ER in the middle of the night. When I woke up at three a.m., he was sitting by my hospital bed, tie undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, testing the water again and again to get my tea just right.

"The big-shot hotel owner, making tea himself?" I was weak, but I could still tease him.

"Shut up and drink some water." He held the cup to my lips. "From now on, quit taking drinks for me. Those people aren't there for you."

I remembered every detail of that night. When the nurse drew my blood, I squeezed his hand without realizing it, and he let me hold on. He stayed quiet, his palm warm against mine.

Looking back now, all that tenderness felt like a dream.

"Irene?" Lydia pressed again. "You don't want to drink it?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I took the glass. "You're the bride-to-be tonight, after all."

The liquor scorched my throat on its way down. I set the empty glass aside as my vision began to swim.

Before I could recover, someone shoved another glass toward me. Laughter erupted around us.

"One drink for the bride-to-be? Surely you could do better than that."

"Enough." Alexander snatched the glass away. "She's had enough."

I looked up at him. He was frowning hard, as if he had finally remembered my stomach trouble. For a second, a small, foolish hope rose up in me. At least he hasn't completely forgotten.

A waiter retrieved the glass, but Alexander wasn't done.

"You won't need to attend these events anymore, either."

The laughter faded. The ballroom was warm, yet the liquor in my stomach seemed to turn to ice.

"Of course." I nodded. "The future Mrs. Hall is here to take my place now."

"Irene." He lowered his voice and glanced around at the guests. "Don't be so bitter."

I thought back to when we first met.

Back then, I was restoring an antique necklace at a hotel. I had just opened the clasp when a drunk guest stumbled into the display table, and the glass case shattered. Instead of owning up, he turned it around on me and demanded I pay for the necklace in full. My palms were sweating, but I still spread out my work orders and argued my case point by point.

"The damage occurred after I'd taken custody of the piece, but you were the one who knocked into the display. I'm not responsible for that." I fought to keep my voice steady.

In the middle of the standoff, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Victor. He had run up another huge gambling debt and threatened to come after me if I didn't send money.

I locked my phone. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold my tweezers.

Alexander happened to walk out of a meeting just then. He didn't yell at the guest or swoop in like a hero. He listened to both sides, then bought the damaged necklace, hired me to restore it, had a proper work order drawn up, and paid me generously.

"I hear you're very good at what you do," he said. "Consider this a deposit."

After that, he sent me a lot of jewelry to restore. One night at dinner, he asked me what I wanted in return.

"Money." I didn't beat around the bush.

Alexander laughed. "Aren't you afraid I'll think less of you?"

"Would being afraid change anything?"

He slid a signed check across the table to me and said at least I was honest about what I wanted. From then on, the gifts, the trips, the apartment, and the clumsy tenderness he let slip now and then wove a gorgeous web that held me for five whole years.

I had been caught in it so long that I had almost forgotten how much courage it took to say plainly that I wanted money.

"Just answer me one question." I looked Alexander straight in the eye. "Do you remember the last time I was hospitalized?"

He paused. "Of course. Last December."

"Then why did you stand there and let me drink?"

He didn't answer for a long time. Lydia tugged at his sleeve, putting on a lost, innocent look, and his attention went straight to her.

"You've received everything you're entitled to," he finally said. "Don't make a scene."

I laughed out loud. So he did remember my illness. He'd simply taken my question as another ploy to squeeze more money out of him.

A bank notification popped up on my phone. I glanced at the amount, made sure it was all there, and ordered an Uber.

Before I left, Lydia spoke up again. "Could you put together the list for the charity committee for me tomorrow? Alexander says no one knows it better than you."

Alexander stood beside her, apparently seeing nothing wrong with the request.

"I'll complete whatever handover duties are covered by my contract," I said evenly. "Anything beyond that, please ask someone on the payroll."

Once I was in the car, I called Claire Dawson, an old client. She ran a photography studio and had once shot an antique ring I'd restored. When she picked up, she sounded swamped with a new project.

"Remember that shared jewelry restoration studio you mentioned in Brooklyn? Is the landlord still looking for someone to rent the space?"

"Yeah, it's still available. Why? Thinking of moving?"

I leaned against the window, watching the lights of Manhattan streak past.

"I'm thinking it's time for a change," I said quietly. "A new place to work. And a new place to live."