Chapter 2

The cold November wind whipped across the tarmac at JFK.

Arianna pulled her coat tighter around her body, dragging her Rimowa suitcase toward the exit. The freezing New York air finally cleared the last lingering fog of her hangover.

She climbed into the back of a yellow cab.

She watched the blur of Manhattan neon lights through the window. She had finished her business trip a day early. She wanted to surprise Gregory. Nine years together, and she still craved the look on his face when she walked through the door unexpectedly.

The cab pulled up to their luxury apartment building in Tribeca.

Arianna paid the fare. She rolled her suitcase into the lobby, offering a tired but genuine smile to the night security guard.

She stepped into the private elevator and pressed her thumb against the biometric scanner. The car shot upward to the penthouse.

Her heart picked up a familiar, comforting rhythm as the floor numbers climbed.

The elevator doors slid open into their private foyer. She stepped out, deliberately keeping her weight light on the thick Persian rug.

She slid her key into the lock. She turned it with agonizing slowness.

The lock clicked. The heavy door pushed open an inch.

The living room was dark. The only light came from the city skyline bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the walnut floors.

The heavy scent of expensive cigars hung in the air.

From the direction of the massive outdoor terrace, she heard the low murmur of male voices and the sharp clink of ice against crystal. She recognized the loud, booming laugh of Landon Bancroft, mixed with Preston Ames's annoying drawl. They must have been having one of their regular high-stakes poker nights, though she had assumed the game would have ended hours ago considering it was a weekday.

Arianna left her suitcase by the door. She slipped out of her heels.

Barefoot, she walked silently toward the partially open glass door leading to the terrace. She planned to step out and scare him.

She peeked through the gap in the door.

Gregory was sitting by the gas fire pit. He held a glass of Macallan whiskey. Three of his wealthy, East Coast trust-fund friends were lounging in the chairs around him.

Landon Bancroft exhaled a thick cloud of cigar smoke.

"So, Greg," Landon drawled, his tone mocking. "When are you actually going to give Arianna a ring? It's been almost a decade."

Arianna stopped breathing. Her fingers dug into the cold metal frame of the door. She waited for the answer she had been silently hoping for over the last nine years.

Gregory let out a short, dismissive laugh. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass.

"Marriage?" Gregory said, his voice casual. "That kind of contract isn't for me. I'm not the marrying type."

Preston Ames chuckled from the other side of the fire. "Good call. She's like a shadow you can't shake off. Zero fun."

Gregory took a sip of his whiskey. His face was completely blank.

"Arianna is useful," Gregory said coldly. "She's the best technical mind in the company. And she's convenient for my physical needs. That's all it is."

The words hit Arianna like a physical blow to the stomach.

All the blood drained from her face. A loud ringing started in her ears.

Landon leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Are you still waiting for Angie Everett to sign her divorce papers?"

Gregory's hand stopped moving. For a fraction of a second, a look of raw, unfiltered tenderness crossed his face. He didn't say a word, but his silence was a screaming confirmation.

Angie. His stepsister. His untouchable white swan.

A violent cramp seized Arianna's stomach. The bile rose in her throat, burning her esophagus.

She stumbled backward, acting purely on instinct to get away from the sound of his voice.

Her shoulder clipped the edge of the console table.

The heavy crystal vase sitting on top of it slid across the polished wood. It made a sharp, screeching sound.

The voices on the terrace stopped instantly.

Gregory snapped his head toward the dark living room. His brows pulled together.

"Who's there?" he called out sharply.

Arianna slapped both hands over her mouth. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. She dropped to her knees, scrambling behind the large sectional sofa, pressing herself into the darkest shadow.

She heard the clink of Gregory setting his glass down.

Heavy footsteps approached the glass door. He pushed it open and stepped into the living room.

Arianna pressed her spine flat against the back of the sofa. Her palms were slick with cold sweat. She couldn't breathe. If he found her here, she would shatter.

He took another step. He was right at the edge of the sofa.

Suddenly, his iPhone buzzed loudly on the terrace table.

"Greg, your phone!" Landon yelled from outside.

Gregory stopped. He let out an annoyed breath, turned around, and walked back out to the fire pit.

The second his back was turned, Arianna pushed herself off the floor.

She grabbed her heels in one hand. Moving like a ghost, she bolted silently across the living room.

She grabbed the handle of her suitcase, pulled the front door open, and fled the penthouse. She threw herself back into the freezing, unforgiving New York night.