It was almost comical how much things could change from one day to the next, I thought, as I walked with the throng of early-morning commuters down Park Avenue to the fancy Art Deco building the Masters called home.

Yesterday, I’d been a harried defense attorney with multiple clients needing my time and attention. Today, I had called my boss and officially handed off all my other cases for the duration, so I could focus on getting Max free.

Yesterday, I’d seen my future stretching straight out before me to the horizon, and my past had been more or less behind me. Today, the past had become the present, and I found myself reliving the same mistakes I was sure I’d moved on from.

Was torture by Groundhog Day a thing?

It was safe to say I was just the tiniest bit cranky at this development, and the worst part was, I could only blame myself.

I’d woken up with Ethan Warner’s taste in my mouth and lingering dreams of him still dancing through my head. He’d been the one whose tongue had tasted like the most potent whiskey, but I was the one who’d acted like I was out-of-my-mind drunk, letting him get to me, letting him waken the dormant craving for him that seemed to still live in my blood.

Before my eyes had even popped open this morning, I’d had to slide my hands down over my taut belly, beneath the hem of my damp panties, to touch myself, replaying every second of what Ethan had done to me last night. When I’d made myself come, his name had been on my lips.

It was inexcusable, really. What was that expression about doing the same things over again and expecting a different result? Apparently, insanity was my middle name.

But I wasn’t going to go quietly. No fucking way. The attraction was potent, that much was undeniable, but I was determined to fight it with every ounce of my willpower.

Ethan claimed he’d changed, though I’d seen no evidence, and I’d changed, too. Passion was no longer enough to win me over. Attraction and connection, sweet words of protection and a possessive attitude, weren’t enough either.

I wasn’t quite sure what would be.

One thing I did know was that nowadays, Haven Wright didn’t sit at home waiting for Mr. Warner to get his ass out of bed and come get her. So after swinging my legs over the bed and testing my feet, which seemed a tiny bit tender but otherwise fine, thank God, I took a quick shower, dried my hair, and slipped my glasses on. Then I’d thrown on a black and white print sheath dress that covered my scraped knees, completed my outfit with a teal cardigan in deference to the murky gray morning and lower temperature, and decided to walk myself to the Masters’ condo.

I wasn’t an idiot trying to take her life in her hands to prove a point. I got that there was some level of danger involved in being Max Pederson’s attorney, and that if I was being watched by the Bianchis, the danger had kicked up a notch the minute I contacted Sabrina Fowler, whose father had been a Bianchi pawn, too. But I had to weigh all of that very real danger against the idea of letting those assholes take my independence from me.

I lived in East Harlem, a little more than thirty blocks away, and I was used to walking way more than a mile and a half every day. Plus, these were well-traveled miles, during the morning rush hour. Miles I walked past the watchful eyes of Mrs. Molina at the bakery, and the heavyset guy at the newspaper stand. It was hardly a dark alley late at night.

I didn’t expect Ethan to see it that way, but then… I didn’t give a shit what Ethan thought.

And just in case, I’d stopped at Molinas’ to get everyone some conchas, my personal favorite sweet bread.

Far more important than my personal safety was how the hell we were going to keep Max safe while in prison. I’d already suggested requesting protective custody to remove him from the general population, but Max refused. Scared as he was, I think he knew that his best and only chance was to stick with Luis, who might have information that could set them both free.

I knew I’d have to return to the prison, maybe as early as today, and I was determined to get Max to plead with Luis to let me be his attorney of record, or to at least pass me information through Max. I knew the man was frightened, but I couldn’t think of another way to get the information we needed, and getting it was more crucial than ever, now that I knew what had happened to Ethan’s brother.

My heart sank to the pavement as I remembered Ethan’s face last night. I couldn’t imagine the pain he’d gone through, losing the mirror image of himself. And I didn’t want to feel bad for him, but how could I not? Hearing the way he’d really grown up—a far cry from the suburban, middle class upbringing he’d invented for Tad Warner nine years ago—wrecked me.

My phone chirped from the side pocket of my briefcase, which I’d slung over my shoulder. I transferred the bakery bag to my free hand and dug the phone out, just in case it was important. Maybe something about Max. Or possibly, Ethan had figured out that I wasn’t waiting for him back at my apartment.

My heart thrummed with excitement that was as real as it was unwanted. Did I want to see what he did when I defied him? Hell, maybe so.

In the end, though, the message wasn’t about either of those things. It was a text from my dad, reminding me that their quarterly real estate taxes were due on the fifteenth, and though he hated to ask, would it be possible for me to help them out again?

I typed out a quick affirmative reply and shoved the phone back in my bag with a sigh.

We did this dance every week or two. I’d already been planning to pay the taxes, the same way I paid their monthly mortgage—I’d even put the money aside already—but my dad never liked to presume. I knew he hated that he had to rely on his only daughter to help them out every month when he’d scrimped and saved his entire life, so he’d never be dependent on anyone, but he had no choice. I was their late-in-life baby, born when my dad was already forty-eight. Now that he was in his seventies, various health problems kept him from holding down a job, and all the money he’d put away for retirement was currently lining someone else’s pocket.

Someone named Ethan Warner.

I’d needed that reminder this morning.

The doorman greeted me when I walked in and called upstairs to announce my arrival. I only heard his half of the conversation, but I had to stifle a smile.

“Yes, sir. Ms. Wright is here.” The doorman frowned. “I don’t know, sir. No, sir, she didn’t say. She seems to be alone, yes. Yes, sir, I know you did. Right. Shall I…” He glanced at me apprehensively, and I wasn’t sure if he was concerned for my safety or his own, as he ventured, “Shall I send her up, sir?”

Apparently, the answer was in the affirmative, and also apparent was the fact that Ethan was pissed.

Good.

Maybe Mr. Warner needed a little reminder that the world didn’t revolve around him.

By the time the elevator doors slid open on the penthouse level, I’d worked myself into a fine temper and I was glad to see Ethan standing in the foyer to greet me, despite the red flush to his face and the fire flickering in his blue eyes.

Bring it on, I thought to myself, and Ethan wasted no time doing just that.

“You. Are. An. Idiot,” he told me without preamble, coming forward to take me by the arm.

“Hey!” I protested, wrenching my elbow from his grasp. “Get your hands off me unless I ask you to put them there. Which I will not.”

“Oh, morning, Haven,” Sabrina said, walking up behind us while knotting a blue band in her thick, red curls. Anson followed on her heels, and when he put his arm around her waist, she leaned against him tiredly. Either she hadn’t noticed Ethan and I tussling, or she was so used to Neanderthals that she didn’t even pay attention to them anymore.

Maybe that was the right idea.

“Good morning,” I returned politely, ignoring the towering rage monster beside me. “Sleep well?”

“Mmm, long night here, actually,” Sabrina said with a sigh. Her eyes fell on the bakery bag I carried. “What’s that?”

“Oh, they’re conchas. From this little Guatemalan bakery I passed on my way here. Have you ever had them?”

“Did someone say conchas?” Walker demanded, coming into the hall. “Oh, hey Haven. You got here fast. Ethan only sent the car, like, ten minutes ago.”

Ethan inhaled through his nose, and I could almost feel him vibrating with rage. I’d never seen him in a temper before, but it seemed like I was about to.

He grabbed the bakery bag from my hand and shoved it at Walker’s chest. Walker caught it instinctively with both hands, like a baby.

“Hey, man, respect the pastries!” he complained.

Ethan didn’t seem to hear him, because he was too busy dragging me down the hall and into a little powder room. He flipped on the light and locked the door behind us.

“Explain yourself,” he demanded.

“Um, no. I don’t answer to you. And while we’re at it,” I told him, folding my arms over my chest while my briefcase banged uselessly into my side, “how about you stop dragging me all over the place like a sack of potatoes?”

He took a step toward me, and I moved back a pace. My ass smacked into the cold stone of the vanity behind me, and still he kept coming until he was looming over me.

“Sacks of potatoes show more sense than you have this morning,” he informed me in a low, menacing voice.

I swallowed. I’d worn low-heeled sandals today, partly because they were comfortable to walk in and partly because my toes were still a little smushed from the abuse I’d given them the day before. It had seemed like a smart choice at the time, but now the difference in size between us was more noticeable than ever. I felt tiny and helpless, and even though it made something clench at my core to know that his anger was on my behalf, it also pissed me right the fuck off.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one who noticed the difference.

“At least you picked decent footwear today,” he remarked, moving back slightly so he could look down at my light pink toe nails. “That may have been the only smart choice you’ve made. Why the hell didn’t you wait for the car I told you I’d send?”

“Because I’m a grown woman?” I suggested smartly. “Because I was ready early and there was no reason to sit around…”

“Bullshit! All you had to do was call,” he growled. “I thought yesterday you needed your ass spanked, and today you’ve only confirmed that suspicion.”

Arousal thundered through me, but I shoved it away. “Oooh,” I taunted. “We’re kinky now, too?”

He glowered at me, and I quickly scanned the bathroom to see if there was room in here for him to make good on his threat, and if I had a chance of escape if he did. Quickly, I changed the subject.

“Maybe I didn’t want to wait around and see if you remembered to come for me this time!” I yelled. I nearly bit my tongue the second the words were out of my mouth, but it was too late to call them back. Pain flashed across his features before his expression went blank.

“Forget I said that,” I told him, eyes to the ground. The last thing I wanted was for him to know just how bad the wound he’d inflicted nine years ago still stung. But more than that, it felt like a cheap shot. I was an attorney, for God’s sake. I didn’t need to bring up ancient emotional wounds to make a case for myself. I was better than that.

He took a step back from me immediately and brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t know if either of us can forget it,” he said, and I knew he didn’t just mean my words, but everything that had happened nine years ago. Everything we’d been to each other.

He lifted my chin with one finger, and his blue eyes, quiet and serious now, met mine. “The thing is, it’s because I wasn’t there for you nine years ago that I need to be there for you now. I’m not the man I was, Haven. I’ll tell you that a hundred times a day if I need to. And I’ll prove it to you, too. I’m holding myself responsible for your safety.”

I scowled. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t need you to do that. I don’t want you to do that.”

He lifted one elegant eyebrow and gave me an appraising look. “I don’t think that’s true, babe. I think you don’t want to want it. And I know you wish you didn’t need it. But deep down? You recognize you can’t handle this on your own.”

I frowned, considering his words. “It was a justifiable risk. A walk down a crowded street in broad daylight…”

“Do you know,” he said, closing the distance between us again, “that a couple of months ago, Sabrina was looking into the death of her father, and Anson into the death of his mother…”

“Yeah, Anson mentioned something about that yesterday.”

He nodded. “And one night, they were just driving home, on a crowded expressway, when a car ran them off the road. And if Anson were any less capable a driver than he is, they would have ended up flipping over and landing in the fucking East River. On a busy, well-traveled road, Haven. Not long after rush hour.”

“Oh,” I said, so softly it was more like a puff of air. “I didn’t know. I didn’t…”

I felt my cheeks heat as shame washed over me. I hadn’t bothered to find out. I’d been more concerned with my pride than my safety.

Fuck.

He watched my face carefully, then nodded, the tension around his eyes relaxing as he read my expression.

“This isn’t about us,” he said, and I tilted my head in disbelief. He chuckled. “Fine, it’s not just about us. You need to be more careful than usual. What’s normally a justifiable risk isn’t anymore. Not as long as you’re Max Pederson’s attorney and the Bianchis are still out there. Yeah?”

I nodded slowly, reluctantly. I understood what he was saying, but… well, I was wary of capitulating to him about anything. I was afraid one agreement would lead to another, and another, and the trickle of attraction I’d felt yesterday would become a landslide I couldn’t halt or control, burying me under its weight while Ethan walked away.

“I’ll be more careful,” I told him, grabbing the strap of my briefcase, which was still dangling from my shoulder. “Promise.”

He backed away again, and this time, reached blindly behind him for the handle of the door. “That’s all I ask,” he said reasonably. He turned around, pulling the door open. “Oh, and by the way?” he said over his shoulder as he strolled into the hall. “If you ever do anything that reckless again, the only conversation we’ll be having will be between my hand and your ass.”

I stopped, standing stock-still in the doorway, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. I shook my head.

Smug fucking asshole.

I followed him down the hall to the kitchen, where I could hear the buzz of voices and smell coffee brewing. Ethan moved directly to the coffee pot, but I veered left, toward the table where everyone had gathered.

Someone had torn the bakery bag open in the center of the table and laid the pastries out on top of it, like a makeshift platter. Walker was busy ripping pieces off his roll and dunking them in his coffee before popping them in his mouth. I exchanged a glance with Sabrina, who hid her smile behind her hand. These men, who lived in one of the most exclusive addresses in the city and could no doubt afford a million platters, were eating off bakery bags with their fingers.

I kinda loved it.

I put my bag under the table and took a seat near Caelan, who was seated at one end eating his pastry in measured bites. Walker was directly across from me, with Sabrina next to him and Anson on her other side. Xavier sat reading the paper—an actual, honest-to-God paper copy of the news—at the other end. Ethan came over and pulled out the chair directly beside mine—because of course he did. I rolled my eyes.

He set a cup of coffee—light and sweet, exactly the way I’d always taken it—in front of me and I glanced up at him in surprise, but he returned my look steadily, and I had to look away a moment later, flustered.

This was always his way, I reminded myself. He knows what you want, and he pretends he wants to give it to you, as long as it doesn’t cost him anything in return.

I distracted myself by watching Walker devour the sweet bread, and I couldn’t help but grin. Anyone would think the man hadn’t eaten in days.

“I fucking love this stuff,” he told me around a mouthful. He dragged his hair away from his face with one hand, and his dark eyes gleamed. “Reminds me of my abuelita. She used to make this all the time.”

“Hey, I never knew you had a grandmother,” Anson said, frowning. He and Sabrina each had plates with their own pieces in front of them, but Anson kept stealing bites of Sabrina’s when she wasn’t looking, seeming to enjoy the way she glared at him.

“Duh. Everyone has a grandmother. That’s how biology works, dipshit,” Walker grumbled, looking like he regretted mentioning anything.

“I think he just means that you never talk about her,” Caelan chimed in. Though it was only my second time meeting them, I was pretty sure he was always the peacemaker in this bunch. “And you should feel free to talk about her if you want.”

Walker shrugged, clearly uncomfortable, and I totally understood. Sometimes there were things that were too painful to talk about, even with people you considered your friends.

“So!” I said, shifting the subject in a completely un-subtle way. “I’ve been thinking about it all night, and I realize that I need to go back to Bonneville today and see Max again. I know Luis is reluctant to speak to me, or to pass information to me through Max, but I need… no, we need,” I corrected myself, “to know what information he’s got. There’s no other way.”

“Actually,” Ethan said slowly. “I think there is.” He looked up and down the table, then stared down at his own mug of black coffee. “I’m going to go myself.”

“Impossible,” I said, shaking my head. “There are no visitors today. Attorney meetings don’t count, but regular visitors…”

“No. Not to visit.” Ethan took a deep breath and flashed us all a roguish smile. “I’m going to get myself thrown in jail.”

“What?” I demanded.

“How the hell’s that gonna work?” Anson snorted.

“Ridiculous,” Xavier drawled, like he was too bored to comment further.

“Actually, it’s not ridiculous. It’s pretty much the only way, and believe me, I’ve considered them all,” Ethan said. He ran a hand through his auburn hair, dislodging his careful style. “I’m going to get myself arrested, and then I figure Xavier’s got some strings he can yank to get me put in with Max and Luis. I’ll talk to them both, and I’ll get the info.”

“Oh, is that all?” I said lightly. “You’re cracked.”

“But why would Luis talk to you when he wouldn’t talk to Haven?” Caelan asked and thank God for reasonable men.

“Because of this.” Ethan grinned and pointed at his face, drawing a circle in the air. “This is my ticket to instant trust with our pal Luis. Remember, the last man he trusted looked exactly like this.”

Anson leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest like he was actually considering this asinine plan.

“Pardon,” Xavier interrupted. “But what exactly would be my reason for descending from on high to pull strings for you, in this scenario? Religious conversion? My cold, black heart suddenly starting to beat again?” The man’s voice was so dry that I couldn’t help but smile.

Ethan grinned. “Well, it wouldn’t actually be to help me, so much as to make sure I’m adequately punished. You know, the kind of thing you might do to a man who’d assaulted you, once you’d pressed charges against him.”

There was a beat of silence around the table before the scene erupted into a cacophony of sound. Anson and Walker dissolved into gales of laughter, Xavier narrowed his eyes, Caelan and Sabrina watched Ethan with worried looks. I was too stunned to react.

Where the hell was this coming from?

“All I have to say,” Anson said, coming up for air with tears in his eyes, “is why the hell do you get to have all the fun around here, Warner? I’ve been dying to hit this guy since January!”

Xavier pursed his lips and snorted derisively. “Believe me, you would not enjoy the fallout.” Then he looked at Ethan again. “Let me understand. You assault me—I presume the story will involve me being asleep or otherwise incapacitated in order for this to be remotely believable—and I press charges. Then I go a step further and make sure you’re put in with violent criminals, just to be an asshole?”

Ethan nodded. “Pretty much, yes.” He gave Xavier a knowing smile, the same sort he bestowed on me all the damn time. “And we both know that wouldn’t be remotely out of character for you.”

Xavier snickered, almost like the laugh had been surprised out of him, but he didn’t protest.

“Uh, are you guys actually considering this?” I stared at each man around the table in turn, ending with Ethan. “Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into? Prison isn’t like some heist movie, you know? It’s not just about putting on an orange jumpsuit and eating shit food, Ethan.”

“I know that, Haven,” Ethan said, his eyes solemn. “I’ve managed to avoid getting sent down, but I know plenty of people who haven’t been so lucky.”

“Then you must know, it’s not a fucking adventure. It’s dangerous. It’s violent. People die in there. They tried to kill Max Pederson.” The sudden thought of him behind bars made me want to lose my breakfast.

“They did kill my father,” Sabrina reminded everyone quietly.

Anson blew out a breath, his humor dissipating immediately, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his side. It was almost, almost enough to make me retract my thoughts about caveman alphas from the previous day.

“I can handle it,” Ethan said confidently. “I have a million IDs, a million cover stories. No one will be expecting me, I’m not going to be there long, and I’m sure as hell not going to be looking for trouble.”

“Yeah,” Caelan said, speaking up for the first time. “But more often than not, trouble comes looking for you.” He glanced at me, then at Sabrina, and when he spoke, his voice was low and weary. “These guys already know, but I did a stretch in prison for assault. But I’ve never talked about the details, mostly because I don’t like to think about it. Ever. It’s like that was a different life. I was a different person.” He looked around the table, like he wanted to gauge our reactions. Every eye looked back with sympathy or calm acceptance. Whatever these men had done in their lives, they weren’t judging Caelan and neither was I.

“The monotony wears on you,” he continued. “Day after day, the same routine—wake and eat and work. Get out in the yard if you’re lucky. Read some books, as long as you’ve kept your record clean that week.” He shook his head. “But the whole time, you’re living with your senses on high alert. Some people in there, they’ve got nothing to hope for, nothing to live for, and nothing better to do with their time than start shit. You never know when you’ll be the target.”

“Wait,” Walker said slowly. “Are you trying to tell me someone messed with you? I always figured… I mean… Man, you’re built like a brick shithouse. The fuck were they thinking?”

“Oh, yeah, they came after me,” Caelan said bleakly. “You’d better believe it. I was the biggest guy there, Walk. They had to establish a pecking order. Even if I just wanted to stay the fuck out of their way.” He looked at Ethan, staring him up and down. “Maybe it won’t be so bad for you. Maybe they won’t feel like they have something to prove. But make no mistake, it’s gonna cost you something to be in there.”

Ethan nodded, staring down at his hands like he was lost in thought, and I let my shoulders relax a fraction. This plan was utterly ridiculous and yeah, fine, I was worried—no matter how silly and unnecessary that was—about Ethan’s safety.

But surely now that he’d heard Caelan’s warning, now that he understood what he’d really be risking, he’d call an end to this whole charade.

The man I’d known hadn’t had a selfless, caring bone in his body.

“Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it,” Ethan said, looking up at Caelan with a half-smile and a shrug. “I mean, I’m not excited. Not planning to put this interlude on my highlight reel or in my post-mortem tell-all autobiography. But it’s gotta be done. And if there’s one thing my former career taught me, it’s that sometimes you have to do things, even when you really, really wish things had worked out differently.”

He darted a glance at me and I looked away, swallowing hard.

“I already told you, my brother was a good man. The best. The light to my dark. And, uh, ever since this whole thing began,” he said, waving a hand in the air to indicate the penthouse, the Masters, and himself, “I’ve just wanted to find out why he was killed. Why they covered it up. This is my shot to do that. And if I can help two innocent men along the way—including the guy Eli died helping?” His voice was tight with emotion as he concluded, “Well, then I’ll be happy knowing Eli’s spirit is at peace, as much as he can be.”

Was he playing me again? Because hell if I didn’t forgive him in that moment. Was he... sincere? Ethan and sincere didn’t jive, in my opinion. Hell, maybe he had changed his ways. A little bud of hope bloomed in my chest even as I tried to quash it.

Sabrina sniffled and wiped her eye. Ethan cleared his throat and clenched his fingers around the handle of his mug.

“Anyway,” he said, in something more like his normal voice. “I have debts to pay all over the place. I’m going to start with this one.”

He looked at me again, and this time I held his gaze.

Who the hell was this man? This guy who was so like the Tad I had known, and also not?

“Be aware,” Caelan said in a resigned tone, “you looking like your brother is a double-edged sword. It’ll be great for dealing with Luis, but none of the prisoners who knew him are going to go easy on you for who your brother was.”

“I hear you. But fortunately, my brother had a lot of friends among the guards.”

“The same guards who opened Max Pederson’s cell the night someone tried to kill him?” I asked softly.

“We don’t know that,” he disagreed.

“I think we kinda do,” Walker argued. “I can’t imagine how it would have worked otherwise.”

“Agreed,” Xavier said. “I think it’s best to operate under the assumption that all other guards could be on the Bianchi’s payroll, and you’ll need to be careful who you talk to.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Sabrina said gently.

Ethan’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. Then he turned to me and summoned a smile that was a pale imitation of his usual charming grin. “What do you say, counselor? You ready to be my defense attorney?”

I shook my head and gave a half laugh. “No. Not really. Ethan, getting yourself injured or killed won’t pay back a debt.”

He bumped his arm into mine. “Why, Haven Wright! It’s almost like you care,” he teased.

And I looked away before he could see just exactly how true his words were.

“Okay, I have a question,” Sabrina said. “Once you’re in, Ethan, how the hell will we get you out? I mean, I’m sure Haven’s a great attorney and all,” she added quickly.

I rubbed a hand over my brow. “I can’t actually work miracles, no. But the easiest thing would be for Mr. Malone to withdraw the charges for whatever reason.”

“He could say he’d had a change of heart, or there were extenuating circumstances,” Caelan suggested.

“Or a benevolent spirit visited him in the night and showed him three ghosts,” Anson added innocently.

“Maybe his psychic friend advised him to do it.” Walker shrugged. “I heard that’s how rich folks make all their decisions.”

“Actually, that’s the absolute truth,” Ethan confirmed. “The whole psychic racket is fucking gold if you can do it convincingly.”

I made a tsk-ing noise and narrowed my eyes at him, but he shrugged. “I won’t lie about who I was, Haven. I’m not proud of it, but I won’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

I bit my lip. There was a part of me that dearly wanted to pretend none of it had happened—that he hadn’t deceived anyone, that we didn’t have all that shitty history. I wanted to admire the guy he seemed to be now, the seriously hot, protective, caring person sitting next to me, without having to reconcile him with Tad, the man who’d hurt me.

“I think perhaps you’d all do well to endear yourselves to me just a tiny bit before Ethan goes in, or else I might conveniently forget to get him back out,” Xavier said, but the smile he gave Ethan suggested he was joking.

At least, I was pretty sure it did.

With his third pastry now finished, Walker brought out the tablet he’d apparently been holding on his lap and began tapping keys. “Okay, I’m finding out which block Luis and Max are in, so X can call in his favor later.”

Xavier nodded, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “I’ll contact the District Attorney.”

“You know someone in the DA’s office who can pull strings for you?” I asked, just slightly horrified. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that justice was always meted out, but I liked to believe that the whole system wasn’t corrupt.

Xavier looked at me blankly. “No. I know the District Attorney, himself. Hell, I contributed enough to his election campaign that he should be naming his children after me.”

I sighed.

“Uh, guys,” Walker said, a tension in his voice that boded nothing good. “I found out where Luis is being held but, uh, he might not be there much longer. He’s got an appeal scheduled in approximately seventy-two hours, and he’s going to be transferred prior to that.”

Ethan and I exchanged a glance, then he looked at Xavier. “So it has to be today.”

Xavier shook his head and sighed. “I see I’ll be cancelling my appearance at the film festival tonight. The paparazzi would love to know where I obtained my injuries.”

Ethan winced. “Yeah. Sorry about that. If it’s any consolation, given how hard your head is, I’m more likely to break my hand than your face.”

“You mean,” Sabrina said in shock, “that you’re actually going to hit him? Not use makeup or something?”

“Babe, it needs to be the real deal if he’s making a charge,” Anson told her. “Ethan’s knuckles need to be beat up, and Xavier’s face has to swell. It’s not gonna kill him.”

“Truly, your sympathy means everything, Daly,” Xavier said wryly, pushing his chair back and standing up. “I notice you not volunteering.”

“Hey, not my fault nobody cares about this face but my girl,” Anson laughed, cupping his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he pulled a smiling Sabrina into his side. “You’ve got the million-dollar moneymaker, X.”

“And so I do. Alright,” Xavier sighed. “Let’s get this over with.” He glared at Ethan for a second. “Do you think it would add verisimilitude if I were to punch you back a time or two?”

“No,” I interjected quickly. “You’d hate for it to get out that you were brawling. Better that you were attacked while innocently doing your daily works of charity.”

Xavier met my eyes, and his mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile. “I can see why you’re an excellent defense attorney, Ms. Wright.” He shook his head as he left the room.

“Got the location, X,” Walker called, grabbing his tablet and rushing after him.

Anson stood too, holding out his hand to help Sabrina from her chair. “Hey, Ethan. Sabrina will bake you a cake while you’re in there,” he offered.

“Sure,” Sabrina agreed. “Whatever kind you want.”

Ethan looked amused. “And what will you do? Eat it for me?”

“Nah, man,” Anson said, shaking his head. I could see worry bleed into his eyes for just a second before he covered it with a broad smile. “I’ll put the file inside, like in an old movie.”

“Thanks,” Ethan told him, and Anson nodded. He looked like he wanted to say more, but in the end, he took Sabrina’s hand and left the room.

“I don’t need to see you hitting Xavier,” Caelan said. “I’ll go get the van ready.” He stood up, then hesitated. “Hey, uh… Arm straight, hit with the knuckles. Thumb curled under your fingers, not tucked inside. And for God’s sake, don’t aim for his nose, or we’ll never hear the end of it, okay?” He walked around me and paused by Ethan’s chair, laying his enormous hand on Ethan’s shoulder to give it a squeeze. “It’s a brave thing you’re doing, man. Remember that, if there comes a time when you doubt.”

Ethan nodded again. “Thanks, Caelan.”

“You let me know if you need anything while he’s gone, Ms. Wright,” he told me with a wink, and then Caelan, too, disappeared, leaving me with Ethan. The man I’d loved. The man who was a perfect stranger.

He turned to me. “So, it looks like my life is going to be in your hands, counselor,” he joked. “You’ll have all the power. Won’t that be a kick?”

I knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but I couldn’t find any humor in this. “I don’t want it,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Not this way.” I paused, then confessed, “I wish there was another way. Any other way. Please, Ethan, just… reconsider. There are other ways to make amends.”

He turned to face me and lifted a hand to my jaw, so he could trace the blade of my cheekbone with his thumb. “Do you know,” he said conversationally, “that after I left you nine years ago, I used to see your face every time I closed my eyes? You were so beautiful. So fucking honest. And you haunted me.”

“Your guilty conscience haunted you, you mean.” I’d intended the words as a reproof, but they came out breathier than I’d intended, and I couldn’t help but lean my cheek into the warmth of his palm.

“No,” he mused. “It wasn’t that. I didn’t have a conscience then. Took me a little while to grow one. But there was something about you that made me wish I was different. And I knew I’d never see you again.” He gave me a wry grin. “But I’d hear your voice in my head, and I’d want to try to be a better person.” He laughed softly. “Hasn’t always worked, of course. But I just thought that was something you should know. Whatever lies I told you in the past, the way I felt about you wasn't one of them.”

I swallowed hard. “Ethan, I…”

“Warner! You coming?” Walker called from out in the hall.

“Two minutes,” Ethan yelled back. Then, to me, he said, “Listen, Haven, I don’t have a lot of time, but there are two things I need to talk to you about.”

I frowned. “What things?”

“First.” He stood and reached into his back pocket for his wallet and withdrew a piece of paper. “This is part of what I owe your father. It’s as much as I could get on short notice.” He handed me a check with a mind-boggling number of zeroes on it. I knew very well that my father had never had that much money in his life.

“Ethan, this is too much.”

“Not if you consider the interest he would have earned,” he said with a firm shake of his head. He closed my fingers around the check like the matter was settled and pulled me to my feet. “Second… I really want you to consider moving into the penthouse while I’m gone.”

“What? Ethan, no. I have my own place.” I ran a hand over my head, feeling like the world was spinning too fast.

“A place in a not-great neighborhood with truly shitty security,” he reminded me, as though I wasn’t already aware. “Here, the security is state of the art. There’s a doorman downstairs, and four incredibly annoying, but incredibly protective Masters here to guard you while I can’t.”

“But–” I didn’t want to owe him, or anyone, anything. I didn’t want to trust him again.

“Haven,” he interrupted, squeezing my hands in his. “Honest to God, the worst part about going in there is going to be worrying about you every minute of the day. Worrying that you’ll take your justifiable risks, and the Bianchis will be one step ahead of you. I know I have no right to ask you for anything, but I’m asking anyway. Stay in the penthouse. You can even say you’ll sleep in my room, if you want to make sure I’m rock hard the entire time I’m gone,” he said. He gave me that wicked Warner grin, the one I’d never been able to refuse—not nine years ago, and sure as hell not today, when he was about to put his ass on the line to help a couple of innocent men.

“Yeah,” I agreed, and even though I could feel the weight of that landslide bearing down on me, I gave him a tremulous smile in return. “If it means that much to you, I will.”

He smiled—his real, dazzling smile—and pulled me into his embrace.

Then, because he was Ethan, he reached down and smacked me on the ass. “Behave while I’m gone.”

He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to my lips before I’d recovered from the spank, then grabbed my hand and towed me out of the living room before I’d recovered from the kiss.

I was pretty sure at this rate that I’d never fully recover my balance around this man. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.