Chapter 3: Rules, Rewritten

Lena decided the kiss was a mistake sometime between brushing her teeth too hard and burning her toast.

Not a romantic mistake. A professional one.

She didn’t replay it because she wanted to she replayed it because her brain, traitor that it was, refused to let it go. The calm way he’d kissed her. The restraint. The fact that he’d stopped first.

Men who stopped first were dangerous in an entirely different way.

She shoved the thought aside and opened her laptop.

Work fixed everything.

Her current investigation glared back at her from the screen: E.C. Holdings. Shell companies stacked like nesting dolls. Quiet investments. Too clean. Too careful. The kind of money that didn’t want applause.

She followed a new lead for three hours straight, lost in the thrill of almost-answers until a familiar name surfaced on a subcontractor list.

Carter Solutions.

Lena frowned.

It wasn’t uncommon. Carter was a common name. So was Eli.

Still, irritation prickled her skin.

Get a grip, she told herself. You kissed a stranger. You don’t get to turn that into a conspiracy.

By late afternoon, she needed caffeine and fresh air or possibly a new brain. Against her better judgment, her feet carried her back to Driftwood Café.

He wasn’t there.

Relief and disappointment arrived together, equally unwelcome.

She ordered her coffee and claimed her usual seat, telling herself she was there for routine, not hope. Ten minutes later, a voice drifted from behind her.

“You look like someone who’s arguing with an invisible opponent.”

She closed her eyes.

Of course.

She turned slowly. “You’re persistent.”

Eli smiled, faint and unreadable. “I prefer ‘consistent.’”

She gestured to the chair opposite her. “Sit. This conversation is happening in daylight, fully clothed, and with clear boundaries.”

“Disappointing,” he said mildly, sitting anyway.

She studied him openly this time. The ordinary clothes. The careful posture. The eyes that missed nothing. He looked like a man with nothing to hide and that alone made her suspicious.

“About the other night,” she began.

“Yes,” he said, attentive.

“It was a lapse in judgment,” she finished briskly. “It won’t happen again.”

Something flickered across his face. Not hurt. Not surprise.

Approval.

“I assumed as much,” he said. “You don’t strike me as impulsive.”

“That kiss was impulsive.”

He tilted his head. “Was it?”

Her jaw tightened. “This is where you apologize.”

“I don’t regret it,” he said calmly. “But I won’t repeat it.”

That disarmed her more than an apology would have.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

“No,” he corrected softly. “I’m very patient.”

They talked about insignificant things this time. Bad movies. Overpriced coffee. The strange intimacy of overhearing strangers’ lives in public places. He didn’t push. Didn’t flirt.

Which somehow felt like flirting.

When her phone buzzed with a message from her editor, Eli glanced away, deliberately giving her privacy. The gesture lodged itself somewhere uncomfortable in her chest.

When she stood to leave, he stood too but didn’t follow.

“I’ll see you around,” he said.

“That’s not an invitation,” she replied.

“I know.”

Walking away, Lena felt a smile tug at her mouth despite herself.

The kiss had been a mistake.

The man, she suspected, was going to be trouble.

And trouble, she reminded herself firmly, was exactly what she was trained to handle.

She didn’t see Eli watch her through the window long after she was gone.

Didn’t see the way his jaw tightened not with desire, but with restraint.

The game had begun before they new.

And neither of them was playing it lightly.