Chapter 4: Oat Milk, No Sugar

I had read Brynn's invitation until the screen dimmed.

She wanted me on that cliff on Saturday, at the east rail, with a glass in my hand.

I decided to go.

If she was setting the stage, I wanted to see every board of it first.

I did not sleep.

The next morning I went to see Malcolm Crowninshield.

I did not like that I was going.

My card had been declined at the coffee cart, my father had not called, and my wrist had turned purple overnight.

I needed to know one thing about the man who had stood up for me at dinner.

What did he want?

Crowninshield Atlantic took up eleven floors of a glass tower on the harbor.

The woman at the front desk looked at my name and picked up her phone without asking me anything.

"Mr. Crowninshield said to send you straight up if you came."

"I only just decided to come."

"Yes, ma'am," she said. "Forty-first floor."

I crossed the lobby.

It had rained all night and the marble was wet from a hundred pairs of shoes.

Halfway to the elevators, my heel went out from under me.

I did not have time to be scared.

A hand closed around my elbow, and another around my waist, and I was pulled upright against a man's chest.

"Careful."

It was Malcolm.

He had come down himself, in shirt sleeves, no jacket.

I could feel his heart going hard under my palm.

He did not let go.

He should have let go.

A second went by, then another, and his hand stayed flat on my waist, warm through the thin wool of my dress.

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