I rarely walked along the first floor corridor of our building. I usually took the elevator straight to our flat, or sometimes ducked into the courtyard to read. I hadn’t explored much, and I certainly hadn’t knocked on any doors. I kept a low profile in the building. I wasn’t comfortable making friends. It was something Vaughn said would happen with time. I’d learn how to navigate in the new set of rules we lived by, but I wasn’t there yet.

I looked at the folded paper again to make sure I had the right address. I shoved it into my pocket as I approached the door and rang the bell.

The door opened. I greeted a woman who might as well have walked out of a magazine. She had flowing blond hair, perfect skin and teeth to match.

“Mrs. Auclair? I mean Madame Auclair,” I corrected my mistake.

“Yes. It’s all right. I don’t speak French.” She smiled. She had a long sweater that dusted the tops of her boots. “I always mix up mademoiselle and madam all the time.”

“Oh good. Then it’s not just me.” I felt a bit more relaxed. “Hi, I’m Kate Birch. I live upstairs on the third floor.”

“Nice to meet you.” Her smile was easy and natural. She held the door open. “I’m Aubrey. Are you American?” she asked.

I had done this a hundred times since we had moved. I should be able to do it a hundred times more. Only, right now I knew I had to lie because I had instructions from Eloise. Vague cryptic instructions that made me nervous.

“Yes. We’ve only been in the building three weeks.”

I saw the boxes stacked in piles behind her.

“Oh, it’s nice to know there’s another ex-pat close by. My husband is French and I don’t think he understands why I’m so homesick. Maybe that sounds a little silly.” She leaned into the doorframe.

I understood. I had felt that way when I moved to DC. Homesick seemed to be something I defined now by my distance from Vaughn.

“It’s not silly at all. I’ve never thought moving was easy.”

“Especially overseas,” she added.

I guessed Aubrey was maybe ten years older than me. The closer I studied her, I could see fine lines around her eyes and mouth, but they were subtle.

I cleared my throat. I felt like there was an invisible clock ticking over my head. It counted down every second I wasted.

“I know this is sort of last minute, but I was wondering if you and your husband would like to join us for dinner tonight. I don’t really know anyone else in the building, and I’d love to have you up.”

I didn’t have a comeback if she turned me down. I didn’t have a way to force her to accept my dinner invitation. How serious did Eloise expect me to be when it came to a dinner party? I should have given myself five minutes to come up with a game plan instead of heading straight for the target. I bit my lip. Target? I even sounded like Blackwing.

Aubrey nodded. “That would be great, actually. It sounds lovely. I have no idea where any of the plates are and my husband is getting tired of me ordering out every night. He doesn’t like takeout,” she explained.

I exhaled, surprised she accepted so easily. “Oh really? Great. I’d love to meet him. Do you want to say eight? Or is nine better?”

“I haven’t gotten used to late dinners quite yet. Eight would be fine.”

“Eight it is,” I smiled. “We’re in 3E. It’s at the end of the hallway near the courtyard.”

“Thank you so much for the invitation. Can I pick up something to bring? I know better than to offer to make anything. I’m a horrible cook.” She laughed. “I love Paris because I can order takeout from anywhere. Paul thinks I can take cooking classes now that we’re here, but I don’t think that will happen. I’m not really the doting wife type.”

I stared at her.

“I’m sorry. Anyway, what can I bring?” she offered.

I shook my head. “No, it’s all right. I have it covered. I know how rough moving week is. I finally got rid of all the boxes last week. Let it be my treat. We’ll see you then.”

“I can’t wait. Thank you, Kate. It was sweet of you to stop by.”

She closed the door and I walked to the elevators more briskly than was necessary. The heavy iron gate clanged shut and I leaned against the wall. That hadn’t seemed terrible. I had to convince myself that was neither duplicitous nor evil. It was dinner with a neighbor and her husband. A basic welcome wagon. Something my mother did countless times when people moved into the neighborhood in New Bern.

I pushed the button for our floor. I had to create a menu, cook, and clean the apartment. It felt as if I had somehow paused the ticking clock overhead. Even if for only a minute, it gave me a chance to catch my breath. I prayed I heard from Vaughn before eight. I checked my phone again, just in case he had called while I spoke to Aubrey, but there was nothing on my phone.

I unlocked the front door and dropped my bag on the stone countertop. I opened the fridge, scanning the shelf for something I could whip up. I didn’t do much of that. Italian-style pasta dinners were my go-to, but this seemed like a different occasion.

My mother had taught me how to cook several of her favorite meals. I hadn’t had a need to reach into that bag of tricks until now. I decided I would prepare roasted chicken. It was simple, but impressive with fresh herbs.

I would have to make a trip to the market. I didn’t have the ingredients I needed. I made a shopping list on my phone. I also needed to pick up wine. Oh, and flowers. My list grew.

This was our first dinner party. It was also my first assignment from Blackwing. Tonight had to be flawless. I grabbed the keys and my bag and locked the apartment on my way to the market.

* * *

I returned with my arms full of groceries. The flowers protruded from one bag. The wine bottles clanked on the counter when I set everything down.

I brushed my hair from my face.

“Ok. I can do this. Totally do this. Dinner for four isn’t a big deal.”

As long as I put the chickens in the oven in the next fifteen minutes, I could pull it off. That didn’t leave much time to roast potatoes or get dressed, but I could probably stall with appetizers or something.

I unpacked the food and moved around the kitchen, forgetting the purpose of the dinner. The only thing that I was worried about was impressing our new neighbors, and of course Vaughn. I could worry about the rest once it was over.

I turned on the Bluetooth speaker on the windowsill and shuffled playlists. The kitchen seemed brighter than the gloom hanging around outside.

I mixed the thyme and sage with the butter before stuffing it under the skin of the chicken. My mother always said that was the secret. I had to use fresh herbs or it wouldn’t work. I sang while I made the risotto next.

I loved the kitchen. I had only used it a few times since we moved in. Not nearly what it deserved.

I uncorked a bottle of wine and poured a glass. As I prepared dinner I started to settle into the rhythm of the apartment. I remembered where the measuring cups were, the stirring spoon, the potato dicer.

“Oh shit,” I looked at the clock over the sink. I had thirty minutes until Aubrey and her husband arrived.

I peeked in the oven one last time to check the chicken before darting to the bedroom to change. It had started to turn a light golden color. I was impressed how well the roasting was going.

It was worthy of a picture. A picture to send to my mom with a caption that read: look what I just did.

For the first time in a long time I let the guilt in. I shut my eyes and pictured my mother. First, I let myself believe she would be proud of the roasted chickens, but I knew that was only a lie I wanted to entertain for a little while. She was at home. Crushed. Devastated. Heartbroken. Because of me. Because I had chosen Vaughn over them.

Every time I thought about her, Garrett, or Dad, I pushed the memories away. I had to make new memories. Create new traditions. A new life that didn’t include a family who was screwed up in more ways than I could list on one sheet of paper. But they were still my family. They still loved me.

The last time I was in New Bern I had helped find Garrett. It was the most time I’d spent with my father in years. Somehow in the middle of Garrett’s crisis, there was healing. It was small, but I knew it was a step forward for all of us. I left believing the chance for all of us to have a long-standing reconciliation was possible.

It was also the time I left for D.C., landed, and learned who Vaughn Hunter really was.

I opened my eyes again. I’d given in for too long already. There wasn’t going to be a funny text from Mom about the chickens. There wasn’t going to be a reunion or an update about the family. I still had a job to do. I knew as I walked to the bedroom that I’d give in again, but not today.

The closet light operated on a sensor. The glow started low before the entire closet was lit. I opted for a fitted white top and black dress pants. The hem of the pant legs brushed the floor once I slipped on a pair of high heels. I threw on a long necklace and fluffed my hair. With a little makeup touch up it would have to do. I didn’t have time to pull together an impressive ensemble.

The bell rang at eight o’clock. I twisted my hands together. Vaughn still hadn’t arrived. Where in the hell was he?

I opened the door. Aubrey and her husband stood in front of me.

I jerked back a little quicker than I intended. I was startled by his appearance. By just how much he contrasted his beautiful wife.

“For you.” Aubrey handed me a bottle of wine. “I know you said not to bring anything, but I stopped at the little shop around the corner. Is white all right?”

“Merci.” I smiled, taking it. “Wine is always all right. Come on in, please. Hi, I’m Kate,” I introduced myself to the much older man next to her. I assumed at one time his hair was quite dark. There were traces of patchy shadows in his mustache and in his eyebrows, but his hair was mostly gray now. He looked to be easily twenty years older than her.

“This is Paul,” Aubrey explained as if she and I had known each other well for a long time. “He’s the one who doesn’t like take out.” She giggled.

“There is absolutely no take out tonight.” I led them into the kitchen.

“Something smells delicious.” Aubrey’s eyes widened.

“Roasted chicken. And some roasted veggies.” I cracked the oven enough to make sure I hadn’t over-crisped the birds. “And we have Risotto. I hope all of that sounds all right.”

“Of course. Of course.” Paul grabbed the bottle of wine from my hands. “Let me serve. You have no idea how long it has been since I ate something that wasn’t boxed and bagged.” I saw him cut a playful glance at his wife.

“You are just grouchy because you’ve been working so late,” she teased.

I opened the drawer for the wine opener and presented it to Paul.

“Ahh, but cherie, I come home as quickly as I can.”

“I know you do.”

Aubrey sat on one of the barstools, waiting for her husband to pour a glass of wine for her. “Speaking of working husbands, where is yours? I promised Paul another guy. Don’t tell me he’s a workaholic too.”

“Oh.” And that’s when it hit me. That was when the realization struck that tonight I might be on my own for this entire dinner. This was why Eloise should have given me more details. I had a right to know why Paul was their mark. I needed information to get information. What was this dinner supposed to accomplish?

But it seemed that if Paul was the mark, Vaughn should be near him, if not with him.

“I’ll try him again,” I excused myself from the kitchen. “Work has been hectic since we moved.”

My phone was plugged into an outlet in the alcove by the front door. I crossed the marble entryway, ready to try Vaughn for the fifth time today when the door swung open.

I stared at him blankly. I had a million questions, but nothing came out of my mouth.

He quickly scanned my outfit.

“Babe, something smells delicious. Why are you dressed like that?” His brow furrowed. He knew something was off without me saying it. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call. But—”

He looked over my shoulder when he heard our neighbors laughing in the kitchen.

“Who is here?” His voice changed immediately.

“I invited the neighbors up from downstairs. They just moved in.”

“Without telling me?” he hissed.

I closed my eyes. We couldn’t get into this here. Not now. I took a steadying breath and stepped back toward the kitchen. “I’m going to tell our guests you need a few minutes before I serve dinner.”

“Kate,” he warned.

“Leo,” I fired back. “Is five minutes enough?” I couldn’t let this crumble now. I had gotten everyone in the same spot, just like I was supposed to do.

He hung his jacket in the alcove. He cleared his throat. “I’ll introduce myself.”

“Fine.” I walked in the kitchen, plastering a smile on my face. “Good news, Leo is here. He made it.”

I opened my hands to show off my handsome husband, but when I spun on my heels I saw the look in his eye when he spotted Paul. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like what I saw in his glance. It was quick. It was instant, but I hadn’t missed it. The flash of anger wasn’t disguised by his long lashes or the sexy grin on his face. Maybe he was Mr. Charming for Aubrey and Paul, but I saw right through his disguise.

Eloise had been right. He got the message. Only, I wasn’t sure what it said.