Marcus smiled, as roguish and handsome as he’d ever been. His dark hair and beard were dusted with gray, creating a unique color and texture all their own, one swept with experience and time.

Tia walked quickly across the big office to meet him. He was tall in an Armani suit, his posture still perfect, broad shoulders back, his handsome face traced with a few wrinkles accentuating his high cheekbones, soulful eyes, and furrowed brow.

“Tia, so good to see you again.” But she answered with a slap, hard across the side of his face. His head snapped to the side, but he recovered easily and gracefully, turning to reveal a wry smile. “I see the feeling isn’t exactly mutual.”

“How dare you flounce in here after all this shit you’ve pulled?”

“The—? Tia, I have to confess, I haven’t any clue at all what you’re talking about.”

“Like hell. All this going on, the IRS, that doll, it was you, wasn’t it? And now you come in here, break into my office, just to gloat? You sick son of a bitch!”

Marcus released a little, bemused huff. “Are you having tax trouble, Tia? I didn’t know.” After a confused moment, he added, “But if you’re still playing dolls, or currently doing so, I’d have to wonder just what type of dolls you’re talking about.”

Tia looked him over, impressed with him as ever, as always, but hating herself for it. And that was a feeling she was unaccustomed to, even as it crept up on her. But Tia still didn’t believe him, she knew she couldn’t afford to.

“So what is it that you want then?”

Giving it a little thought, Marcus said simply, “To help, if I can.”

Tia spat out an offended huff. “If you know anybody at the IRS, you could make a call.”

“I do, as a matter of fact.”

“And you expect me to believe they just happened to be on my ass at the very time you come around? C’mon, Marcus, you’re slipping.”

He shrugged. “I don’t doubt that. But my appearance here has nothing whatsoever to do with your current…travails. Tia, it’s been almost ten years; what interest would I have in bothering you?”

“Why are you here then?” Tia snapped back.

He smiled. “I have to admit I-I caught wind of your little venture here, and I felt…compelled to see it for myself.” She stood, not sure of her ground but not wanting to give an inch of it. So she let him continue in the quiet tension surrounding them. “I’m very impressed.”

A hot curl twisted in Tia’s stomach. “And what did you hear about it, exactly?”

Marcus took a long, leisurely trip around the office. “Let’s not be coy about it, Tia. We both know what you’re doing here.” After a long, knowing pause, Marcus smiled to add, “It was my idea, after all.”

Tia’s imagination began following Marcus’s line of intent. Is he blackmailing me or suing me? He definitely sent the IRS, probably has the Feds coming for me too.

This is bad.

So Tia smiled. “I’m glad you’re pleased, Marcus. And I’m glad to see you, I really am; I’m just a bit…out of sorts lately, that’s all.”

“Not at all like you.”

“No, it’s…it’s not. Anyway, how about a stroll around Central Park?”

Marcus extended his elbow. “Lunch on me?”

Tia smiled and slid her arm through. “If you insist.”

They walked out together, but Tia could have no way of knowing what she was getting into. She only knew she had no choice, no better strategy, and everything on the line.

* * *

Central Park was crisp and relatively clean in the spring—couples pushing strollers and men tossing plastic flying discs to their dogs, jumping and catching them with amazing skill.

Tia glanced around, wondering if her life would ever be as simple as theirs, or as happy. But there were other things to think about, other questions which were more pressing. “So where have you been for ten years, Marcus? Still in the market?”

“Of course. Real estate has been good to us both, eh?” Tia ignored the slight, knowing how important it was to keep a friendly front at least until she knew more about what her old friend and mentor and lover wanted. He went on, “I’ve had my hand in a variety of things; tech stocks were very good for me, even some manufacturing and distribution.”

“Drugs?”

“Of course not, Tia. You know I’d never involve myself in that. But I do buy and sell things of even more addictive qualities.”

“Oil.”

“It’s still better than fracking, Tia. But I’ve put millions into other alternatives: wind, solar—”

“And you’ll get more millions back.”

“I hope so.” They shared a little chuckle and walked on. “You know how it is to launch a business, the risks involved.” Tia’s chuckle died quickly, silent caution returning. “My own investments were fraught with risks, I’m afraid. Luckily, I’ve divested.”

Tia nodded as they walked on. Tia didn’t want to ask but couldn’t help but wonder, Divest…in what?

* * *

The Marlow Bistro’s cavatelli with asparagus and ramp pesto was flavorful and delicious, the spears still crisp and buttery and accented perfectly by a glass of their driest chardonnay. Tia tried to enjoy the warm, chewy garlic rolls, the fresh garden salad slathered in a tangy rosemary vinaigrette.

Marcus looked at her, long and cool with his steely-blue eyes, not faded at all with his forty years. “I have to say, Tia, you look incredible.”

Tia was less than impressed. “I haven’t aged a day?”

“Oh no, you have, my love, you have, beautifully. You are in every way even more gorgeous than when we last saw each other.”

“Let’s leave it all alone,” Tia said, not wanting to revisit their sad farewell. “There’s no reason to reflect on it; it was bound to happen.”

Marcus nodded, taking a sip of his glass of red wine before cutting into his steak. “We were two strong-willed individuals; I suppose a clash was inevitable.”

Tia nodded, but she knew there was more to it than that. “I know the role I played in what happened though, Marcus; in a lot of ways, it was my fault. I fell in love with you because you were older, more experienced, patriarchal, but then I got frustrated with you for being just that: too old, always in control.”

“I should have given you more freedom.”

But this struck her the wrong way, bringing up old pangs of resentment which she had nearly forgotten but which were crystal clear in her memory. “I realize you’re a powerful man, with experiences few people could brag about, but…my freedom isn’t for you to bestow upon me, to one degree or another; it never was. I suppose that was our problem, or my problem. I had to take my freedom and not have it handed to me.”

“Or it wasn’t really yours.”

“Yes, Marcus.”

“And it wasn’t really freedom.”

After a long, sad pause, Tia had to repeat in a softer voice, “Yes.”

“Well,” Marcus said, raising his glass, “here’s to freedom.” Tia raised her glass, they clinked the two, and went on eating.

Finally Tia felt she had to ask, “It’s nice to have the kind of freedom we have, isn’t it?”

“I ’couldn’t be more grateful,” Marcus said in a tone Tia didn’t quite understand. But she felt she had to find out.

“So, which work project is suiting you best these days, Marcus?”

He swallowed a piece of steak and took a drink of wine. “Actually, I’m running a private entertainment company.” Her stomach tightened, a lump rising in her throat, mouth suddenly and inexplicably dry. He smiled and continued, “People hire us to kidnap them.”

Tia’s fork dropped to her plate, and her mouth to the floor.