I wasn’t usually a big fan of weddings. When you work security and private investigations you see way too much of the dark side of marriage. Cheating. Lying. Divorce cases are the bread and butter of our business. I preferred corporate espionage and stalkers. At the sight of white tulle and wedding cakes, my first thought was to wonder how long it would be until they were hiring lawyers.

Call me cynical, but I’ve seen too much not to be.

Still, Sophie glowed with happiness as she beamed at Gage Winters. He beamed right back. I wanted to believe these two were going to make it. Fuck it; I did believe these two would make it. They’d been through way too much to screw it up now.

The wedding was small, and security was high, but I hadn’t left Annalise’s side. Sticking close was no hardship. I rested my hand on her back, her skin sleek and as soft as silk.

She wore a blush pink dress with a halter top and long full skirt that showed only a hint of cleavage but left her back bare. The deep pink suited her tanned skin and long blonde waves. She’d left her hair loose, pulled back from her face with only a few sparkly pins. On her feet, she wore hot pink sandals instead of more formal heels.

Every time I looked at her I wanted to drag her off somewhere private and finish what we’d started in her bedroom a few days before.

I'd thought she was gorgeous when she was a college student, but the younger Annalise had nothing on the woman standing beside me. It wasn't just physical. Her body had changed in the last eleven years, and if you asked her she’d probably say something about the lines around her eyes, but all I saw was more.

She’d had a promise to her beauty at twenty, and that promise had been fulfilled. Her curves were fuller, her breasts bigger, that tight ass a little more of a handful leading to a waist that was still trim. It wasn't just her body, though. She'd been smart, and funny, easily affectionate and hot as hell in bed.

This new Annalise was still the girl I remembered, but she'd grown into herself. She was comfortable with her intelligence, and her sense of humor was as sharp as ever. She’d proved she was still hot as hell in bed, though I’d barely gotten my hands on her. Her easy affection was nowhere in sight.

She took a step to her right, discreetly moving out of reach, my fingers sliding across her skin and the smooth fabric of her dress, leaving me grasping at air.

I gritted my teeth and gave her the space she wanted. She'd been doing this all day—trying to put distance between us. Avoiding touching me.

She couldn't have made it clearer that she didn't want to mix work and pleasure. Normally, I'd be right there with her. We didn't have a strict company policy at Sinclair, but it was generally understood you didn't fuck the client.

I always kept it professional. Always. Most of the time that was easy. Our clients tended toward the corporate, and old, rich, white guys weren't my thing. Of our private clients, the young ones tended to be celebrities, with their heads so far up their own asses I didn't want to fuck them no matter how good they looked.

Everything that was normal had gone out the window the second I'd seen Annalise again. She wasn't a client. She was Lise. Her case had been mine for years, and my periodic checks on her should have been enough to tell me that I'd gotten our breakup all wrong.

I should have known that Dear John letter was bullshit. Nothing I'd seen of her over the years gave any indication that she was the kind of cold-hearted bitch to tell a guy she loved him and then turn around and dump him because he was boring and she’d been cheating.

The lies in her letter seemed so obvious now. But fuck, it had burned when I’d read it. I'd been in the hospital, feeling like shit, and my girl had walked out on me. I'd been low enough to believe everything she’d written, and when she never came home, never called or wrote or tried to see me again, I’d assumed it was all true.

Why wouldn't I?

If I’d had doubts, they’d been put to rest by Aiden, after I’d read the letter. He’d sat beside my hospital bed, his dark eyes grave, and told me that she was taking some time off school to travel with her new boyfriend, an old flame, and friend of the family.

He’d apologized for her behavior and the cowardly way she’d left, gently suggesting that I was better off without her and reminding me that I was too old for her anyway. Too old, not enough money, no background. Not the right man for Annalise Winters.

Aiden’s list of reasons was bullshit and impossible to argue with. He’d patted my shoulder and walked out, taking my last wisp of hope with him. Love turned to hate, and I’d forced any thought of Annalise Winters from my mind.

A few years later when her case hit my desk, I took it. Why not? I was over her. Ancient history. Except that I’d never gotten over her. And the love I’d thought became hate had never really died.

I should have known Aiden was lying.

Standing beside her, the distance she wanted between us a chasm she hoped I wouldn't bridge, I was painfully aware that I'd been a fucking idiot.

What if I’d tracked her down all those years ago? What if I'd forced the kind of confrontation we'd had over her suitcase? Would we have been together all this time? Would we have a family? Kids? How much time had we lost because we were both too scared to be honest with each other?

I'd never know. Life is too short for what if's. I did know that I wasn't wasting any more fucking time. I took a step to my right and wound my arm around Annalise's waist, pulling her into my side.

She stiffened, almost imperceptibly, but didn't fight when I took hold of her left hand and raised it to my mouth, kissing her finger just below the engagement ring.

The couple she was talking to gave us an indulgent smile and said something about young lovers. A gorgeous blush spread across Annalise's cheeks, and, as the couple moved on, she turned to face me.

"Was that necessary?" she demanded under her breath, the smile on her face hiding the challenge in her words. Fighting in front of the wedding guests wasn't good for our charade.

I lowered my head and kissed her jaw, just below her ear, and whispered, "Absolutely necessary. Have you seen how beautiful you are? If you wanted me to keep my hands off you, you shouldn't have worn this dress."

I'd known the comment would make her bristle, and it did. Her eyes flashed, and her spine went straight, but, before she could launch into a lecture about how what she wore didn't give me the right to grope her, I cut in and said, "Then again, I'm pretty sure you could wear a potato sack, and I'd still want to get my hands under it. It's not the clothes. It's you."

Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she let out a breath. "Riley, don't do this. Don't make it so hard. I can pretend, but not when you make it so hard."

"What if I don't want to pretend, Lise?" I asked.

Her breath caught in her throat and she leaned back to look up at me, hope and fear and need swirling in the deep blue of her eyes.

Her lips parted to speak, and every cell in my body strained toward her, desperate to hear what she would say.

A hearty male voice interrupted. "May I steal your date for a dance?"

I hadn't noticed the music starting up. The wedding was small, but Sophie had wanted dancing. They’d hired a string quartet, and Mrs. W had ordered the carpets rolled up in the front hall during the ceremony, so when we'd reentered the house for the reception, the front hall had been transformed into a ballroom, albeit a small one.

Annalise smiled up at William Davis and said, "Of course, Uncle William. I'd love to dance with you."

He’d asked if he could steal my date, but William Davis never looked at me. I already knew he disapproved of the engagement. Aiden had warned me that William Davis had very specific ideas about who the Winters children should marry. A guy like me did not make the list. Not enough money. No pedigree.

Davis's girlfriend, Melanie, took Annalise's place beside me, standing a little too close. In a confidential tone, she said, "Don't mind William. Since they lost their parents, he sees himself as something of a stand-in to all the Winters children. He’s very overprotective. I'm sure he'll warm up to you once you two are married."

"As long as Annalise is happy, I don't worry about much," I said, evenly. She walked with me as I moved to the side of the dance floor where I could keep an eye on Annalise.

It was unlikely anything would happen inside Winters House, but security was harder to maintain when there were people coming and going. I had no plans to let Annalise out of sight.

Melanie watched Annalise and William foxtrot, taking in William’s paternal smile and Annalise's laugh as he said something amusing. Quietly, she said, "She looks so much like her mother, sometimes it's startling."

"Annalise?" I asked. I'd seen photographs of Lise's parents, but to my eye, both Annalise and Vance looked like a combination of Anna and James Winters.

I knew Melanie was a champion gossip and she didn't disappoint when she said, "Oh yes. Anna's hair was lighter, almost a platinum. I was always so jealous of her. She never touched a dye bottle. Just naturally gorgeous. Annalise has her eyes, same figure, and there’s something about the way she holds herself that turns her into a carbon copy of Anna."

"They don't look a lot alike in pictures," I said, hoping that would keep her talking.

Melanie's head tilted to the side as she studied Annalise. "I could see that. Annalise is a little taller, I suppose. The difference in hair color could fool the eye—Anna's platinum was so striking—but trust me, coming from someone who knew Anna well, Annalise looks exactly like her mother."

She shook her head, and I was shocked to see the gleam of tears in her eyes. She gave a sniff and lifted a finger to blot the moisture before it could smear her makeup.

Waving a hand in front of her face she said, "I'm sorry. It's been so many years since we lost them, but seeing Annalise like this, looking so much like her mother and only a few years younger than Anna was when she died, it's just…" She let out a gusty sigh. "It's nice to see the family happy, that's all. William has had plenty to say about the children's choices, Lord knows."

"But you disagree?" I probed.

She shot me a conspiratorial glance and said, "I admit, I do. He's so fussy about who people's people are. It's not that it doesn't matter, because it does, but happiness matters more."

Then, maybe realizing that her comment about people's people mattering only proved William’s point about me, she reached out to squeeze my hand and said again, "Happiness matters more."

I couldn't argue with that. Annalise's breakup letter, aside from implying that she was seeing someone else behind my back—which I now realized was an utter load of crap because Lise would never cheat—had also gone on about the differences in our social status. Another thing Lise had never cared about until it had seemed she decided she did.

The more I got to know them, the more I realized that the Winters family truly didn't care about social status. Maybe it was easy not to care when you had more money than God and enough power to get whatever you wanted.

I might not be a suitable choice for the oldest daughter of the Winters family, but if she dragged me with her to the country club that wouldn't stop anyone from kissing both of our asses.

I wasn't worried about that. People like Melanie and William Davis could have their ideas about what was appropriate and proper in their social strata, but it didn't have anything to do with Annalise and me. I wouldn't let it.

We stood there, watching William and Annalise dance, Melanie making a funny humming sound in the back of her throat as William said something with a scowl on his face and Annalise shook her head. Melanie sighed and said, "I don't know why he bothers. They just ignore him and do what they want anyway."

I made a vague sound of agreement. I'd already heard how William Davis had tried to interfere in Jacob and Abigail's relationship, and then again with Lucas and Charlie. All of them were doing just fine, so I wasn't worried about Davis confusing Annalise. Lise knew her own mind. We had a lot of problems, but William Davis wasn't one of them.

I couldn't help but think about what Melanie had said. Just looking at photographs, I hadn't picked up on the strong resemblance between Annalise and her mother. Her mother who had been murdered. No one in the Sinclair or Winters family had mentioned the resemblance, but it was possible they didn't see it the same way an outsider like Melanie did.

The sad fact was, Anna Winters had been dead for over two decades and the oldest of them, Aiden, had only been eleven when she died.

I had to consider that they hadn't mentioned the resemblance because none of them had noticed it. But Melanie had, and maybe the stalker had as well.

At that thought, an icy chill ran through me. I had the sudden urge to stalk onto the small dance floor, grab Annalise's hand, and drag her away from the party. To stash her somewhere safe until we found whoever was sending her flowers.

We already knew her stalker was obsessed. Whoever had killed Anna and James Winters had never been caught. Until Melanie’s comments about Lise’s mother, I’d thought it a weak connection, at best. Now I wasn’t so sure.

While Lise was worried about protecting her loved ones, I was growing more certain she was the one in danger.