Chapter 3 Secrets beneath the surface

The week crawled by slower than any Lydia could remember. She threw herself into work at the gallery-cataloguing new pieces, prepping for a donor event, and arguing with her boss over a sculpture he called "too provocative." Normally, she would've dwelled on it for hours. Now, all she could think about was Jaden.

Who was he, really?

Her coworkers joked about her "mystery man" after she let the name "Jaden" slip, but she didn't tell them the rest. She didn't mention the rooftop view, or how he stared at the skyline like he was trying to remember something he'd lost. She certainly didn't tell them how fast her heart had been beating when he said, "You're dangerous."

On Friday night, she took the same train-on time, just like he said. She even wore a different coat. Dark green. A little more grown-up.

He was there.

"Glad you came," he said, and without waiting, he led her off the train again.

---

This time, he took her to a private dinner club nestled in a brownstone in the West Village. The doorman nodded to Jaden as if he were royalty.

Inside, it was candlelight and velvet. A pianist played soft jazz in the corner. The tables were full of polished people sipping expensive wine, laughing like they had nothing to lose.

Lydia tried not to fidget.

"I don't belong here," she whispered.

"You do," Jaden said firmly.

"But I can't afford this."

"I didn't ask you to pay, Lydia."

There was a finality in the way he said her name that made her spine straighten.

She studied him. "Who are you really, Jaden?"

He sipped his wine, then set the glass down with perfect grace.

"My full name is Jaden Moreau. I'm the CEO of a firm called Redstone Holdings. We manage assets for... people you've probably read about."

Lydia blinked. "Like... billionaires?"

He nodded. "And sometimes governments."

"Jesus."

"I didn't mean to deceive you," he added. "I just... liked being anonymous on that train."

Lydia tried to wrap her head around it. He wasn't just rich-he was mega rich. Beyond anything she'd ever imagined.

"Why me?" she asked.

His eyes met hers, steady and sharp. "Because you see through things. You're not impressed by money, or power. I need that."

She wasn't sure if she was flattered or terrified.

---

After dinner, he walked her to the curb. His driver-a sleek black town car-was waiting.

"Let me take you home," he said.

She hesitated. "I don't want to be... another name on a list."

"You're not."

"How do I know that?"

He stepped closer. "Because when I'm with you, Lydia, I feel like I can finally breathe."

His hand brushed hers. This time, he did kiss her.

Soft. Slow. Measured. And somehow still electric.

She leaned into him, her fingers curling into his lapel, and for one stolen second, the city faded away.

---

When she got home, her phone buzzed. A text from a blocked number.