I studied the photo on my phone. The dark-haired beauty wore a fashionable suit, one meant for being captured in an image such as this. Her gloved fingers were wrapped around the neck of my ex-fiancé as he bent to whisper something in her ear. His grin was one I recognized well. He used it when he wanted to charm someone, and the woman clearly approved.

The text was the last thing I expected to pop up on my screen after driving all day from Paris to Nice, but I knew something was coming because Mark hadn’t contacted me since my confession on Saturday. Until now.

“What am I looking at?” I asked.

“That is Bianca Jenkins,” Mark replied over the speakerphone. “Wife of Senator Jenkins.”

My eyebrows shot up. Not only did I recognize the name, but I’d met the man several times. “He’s one of Ryan’s biggest supporters.”

“Yes, and it would seem his young wife is an even bigger supporter.” His droll tone indicated his amusement at the word choice. “But it gets better.” Another photo popped up on my phone of a pregnant Bianca. “Your comment about him leaving you alone for six months didn’t fit his profile, so that’s where I started, and guess who got knocked up around the time he stopped harassing you?”

Will let out a low whistle beside me. He had one arm slung across the back of the couch, but his focus was on the phone in my hand. Mark’s text had arrived just as we walked into our new suite.

“You think the baby is his?” I guessed.

“Affirmative.” His voice seemed to deepen as he continued. “This is Jenkins’s fourth wife in twenty years, and none of the previous women ever conceived. Birth control is entirely possible, but I’m betting he’s infertile. Plus, the timeline is right. That first photo is from a hotel security camera taken eight months ago, right about the time she got pregnant, while her husband was conveniently in another state.”

“And he doesn’t suspect anything?” Senator Jenkins wasn’t a dense man. He had to know.

Mark snorted. “He’s an arrogant son of a bitch who thinks the fourth time around is the charm, or maybe he just needed a wife who was twenty years younger. Who the hell knows, but he’s not about to question it. He’s too cocky for a philandering wife, which is probably why he didn’t care when she asked to stay in Madison after the holidays while pregnant. Jenkins had been in DC while Albertson had been privately tending to Bianca’s every, uh, need.” He paused to let that sink in before continuing.

“So that’s why he left you alone. He had other things to worry about, like a pregnant woman who could ruin his career. Which brings me to my second reason for believing he’s the father—he pushed for her to abort the child.”

I frowned. “How do you know that?”

“Physician records that were not as well scrubbed as he thought. His name might not be on the paper trail, but there’s a financial link that suggests he paid for several consults. In any case, I’m confident he’s the father, and we’ll know for sure in a few weeks.”

“Okay.” I chewed my lower lip and met Will’s gaze. Just having him there put me at ease in a way I didn’t know was possible. Especially when discussing Ryan. My emotional response seemed to dwindle with each new threatening message. The last one came in two hours ago, and I’d all but ignored it. Every time I deleted one of Ryan’s messages, I felt empowered and gained a sliver of control back. The few times his words kicked me in the stomach, I took one look at Will and felt my resolve strengthen again. The man’s confidence radiated from him, surrounding me with a comfort I’d not felt in years.

I cleared my throat. “Okay,” I repeated. “So that explains his absence, but why is he bothering me again?”

“Because he needs a wife.” Mark’s flat answer sent a chill down my spine. “His campaign managers are riding him hard about it, too, hence the desperate feel to his actions. He’s also not thrilled that his favorite possession is acting out by fucking a prime competitor.”

“Mark!” I couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Except yeah, actually, I could. The man was not one to mince words. But still . . . “Don’t . . . I don’t . . . Just . . .” My face was on fire as I shook my head, unable to say anything back to that. Because wow. Just. Wow.

“So what are you suggesting?” Will asked, speaking for the first time. His tone lacked his usual amusement and held an edge to it that I wasn’t sure I liked. The hairs on my arms danced in response. Danger. He shifted his arm to my shoulders and pulled me closer to place a kiss on my neck that dispelled some of the tension tightening my limbs.

“I’m not suggesting anything yet, Mershano. His affair with Bianca is enough to destroy his political career, but Albertson is still vastly connected. It’s his other business connections that I want to explore a bit more before I give Rachel her options.”

Will ran his hand up and down my arm. “Mafia ties?” he asked.

“Something like that,” he answered vaguely. “I’ll be in touch as I learn more, Rach.”

I was still trying to swallow the mafia comment, so all I managed was a “ ’Kay” in reply.

“Oh, and Mershano? Hernandez is a good hire, but don’t piss him off. He throws a mean left hook.” Mark hung up without a formal goodbye. Will’s responding chuckle confused me almost as much as the man on the phone did.

“Who’s Hernandez?”

“One of the members of our security detail in France. He’s former black ops, which I suspect is what your friend is involved with because no way in hell that man is FBI.”

As I already suspected the latter, I focused on the former. “We have a security detail?” He never mentioned anything about hiring anyone to watch us, nor had I noticed them.

“Yes, and Rick Hernandez is the one I hired to organize it. He has two men in the hotel whom I haven’t met yet but plan to this evening.”

“And they’re what? Going to follow us to our meeting?”

“Yes, and wherever else we go while in Europe.”

“That’s a bit much, isn’t it?” I understood his concern, but bodyguards accompanying us to a bunch of boring meetings felt extravagant. Ryan was obsessive, not stupid. He would never strike during a business negotiation.

“Your safety means everything to me, Rachel.” He grasped my chin and forced my gaze to his. “I won’t let that asshole touch you ever again. Do you understand?”

A shiver tickled the back of my neck. So intense. “And what happens after?”

“After?” he repeated. “After what?”

“After we leave Europe.” It was something I hadn’t wanted to think about these last three days, but I would eventually have to return to Chicago. To work, to my apartment, to Ryan . . .

“We agreed the other night that this isn’t short term. When we return, we return together. We fight, remember?” Will’s stern tone reminded me of that day in the boardroom with the partners. Charming, but in charge in every way that mattered with no room for negotiation. I had no intention of arguing with him, but there were things we hadn’t discussed yet.

“I’ll need to be reassigned to a new project, and I doubt my management team is going to take kindly to my hooking up with a client.” I winced at that last part. So much for my professional reputation.

He cleared his throat. “About that . . . Remember when Garrett came to Chicago and we met with the partners?”

I eyed him sideways. As if I could forget the morning I woke up in Will’s bed and met one of the South’s best attorneys not thirty minutes later. “Yes.”

“Part of our negotiations revolved around adding a conflict of interest clause regarding my preexisting relationship with you. An agreement I agreed to and signed before starting work with you on the project.”

My blood ran hot as a myriad of emotions battled for purpose. “I . . . You . . . Fuck!” I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be furious or relieved. Anger seemed to be winning, as my fists clenched tightly and my eyes narrowed.

“Before you blow up at me, keep in mind that my intentions regarding you have never been a secret. I wasn’t about to hire your firm without protecting you. Your career means the world to you, and rightly so. I would never jeopardize that, Rachel. Ever. So you can be mad at me all you want, but I did the right thing, even if I did lie a little and say we were already dating.”

“You did the cocky thing,” I corrected. “Expecting me to date you? And saying we were already dating from the beginning?” Fury won against relief. His words and assessment were one hundred percent sound and accurate, but his gall grated on my last nerve.

“Oh, fuck . . .” That conversation I had with the partners the day after he signed the agreement took on a whole new meaning and made a hell of a lot more sense now. I’d thought they were talking about Evan’s relationship with Sarah, but no. They were referring to the conflict of interest between Will and me. Because he told them we were already dating. “You’re un-fucking-believable, Mershano.”

His chuckle only infuriated me more. I reacted without thinking and lunged at him, only to find myself on my back beneath him on the couch.

“Okay, first? I knew it was an inevitability. And second, the agreement was worded in a way that implied my preexisting tie to you, not your commitment to me. You admitted months ago that you admired Garrett’s gift for words. Trust me when I say he applied that to my agreement with Baker Brown.”

“It doesn’t matter. The partners inferred it the way you intended.” God, I was such an idiot. They’d even offered to let me read it, but I’d naively said no.

And what would you have done? Great fucking question.

“Of course they did, but have they treated you any differently over the last few weeks for it? Because I recall Janet singing your praises on that call Friday. They respect the hell out of you, Dawson. And if you think a relationship with me is going to affect your career, then we need to work on your confidence.”

I glowered up at him. “This is not so much about my confidence as your making assumptions.”

“It was never an assumption. Our attraction to each other has always been mutual, and you know it.”

I scoffed at that. “You believe what you want.” I only said it because he had pissed me off, and seeing his expression change from amused to disappointment had me regretting it in an instant.

“Denying it does nothing to move us forward.” His soft tone hit me right in the gut, but it was his next words that nailed my heart. “If anything, belittling our connection pushes us backward, and that’s the opposite of fighting, Dawson. And not what we agreed to.” He pushed off of me and left the living area.

My mouth opened and closed. I didn’t know what to say. What started as a tentative conversation about our future blew up into a disagreement over his presumptuousness.

Discussing the nature of our relationship with my firm behind my back grated on my nerves, yet his reasons were genuine. He meant to save me from an even more embarrassing situation of having to talk with the partners about a sexual relationship with Will during the project.

By mentioning it up front, he kept our interactions honest and also saved my reputation. The partners probably thought Will selected the firm because of our relationship, which was essentially true. We weren’t intimate until recently, but we already had a connection. One I’d just denied outright.

I palmed my forehead and blew out a breath. Controlling any aspect of my career reminded me too much of Ryan, except unlike my ex, Will did it with my best intentions in mind. The partners did treat me differently, but in a positive way. They knew my name and were directly involved in my work, and my career had never been in a better position. I always had the skills, but never the opportunity to shine, and Will had given that to me.

His overzealousness often irritated me, but it also floored me. The man bent over backward to break down my barriers and convince me to take a chance on him. Adding the conflict of interest clause also showed that he cared about protecting me from the ramifications of sleeping with my client. And it implied that he considered the long-term implications, not the short-term.

He fought for us at every turn, and I’d thrown a fit at our first hiccup. Granted, it was a big one, but not unforgivable. Will was a man who knew what he wanted and went after it, and he would never apologize for doing whatever it took to achieve it. Even if that included admitting our relationship to others before confirming it with me. Because at the end of the day, he was right. The attraction was always there from the second he stepped into my office all those months ago. It served as my primary reason for turning down his employment offers and the reason I should have requested the firm not assign me to his project.

I ran my hand over my face and stood up. His final words reverberated in my chest as I traced his path to the kitchen of the suite. He stood braced over the counter, his focus on the cabinet. A glass of amber liquid stood off to the side, surprising me. Will always drank wine. Always. The tense line of his shoulders was even more prominent in his crisp white dress shirt. He’d rolled the sleeves to his elbows, exposing his flexed forearms as he gripped the marble surface.

“I never meant to force your hand,” he said in that same soft voice from a few minutes ago. “But I knew you would see it that way. I only wanted to avoid complicating your career.” He picked up the glass and finished the alcohol before setting it in the sink.

I grabbed his arm as he tried to pass. “Will . . .”

“It’s been a long day, and I need a minute before I go meet with the security team. You can berate me more when I get back.” He sounded so defeated, and when he left the kitchen without even looking at me, my heart ached. The confident man I’d come to adore was nowhere to be seen. Did he think this would push me over the edge to end things between us?

The snick of the door as it closed echoed through the now-empty suite. It seemed to answer my unspoken question.

For the first time since we’d met, Will walked away.

He didn’t argue in that clever way of his.

He didn’t try to win me over with a flirtatious comment or a charming grin.

He didn’t push.

He left.