Chapter 9: Sponsor Lunch

I walked down the drive in Cade's coat and took the envelope out of Trent's hand before he could say hello.

"Sorcha," he said, grinning. "You look rested."

"What do you want?"

"Open it."

I slid the photographs out.

Six glossy prints, all taken from the street through the study window.

Me, in a robe, with my hand on the safe door.

Me, standing at the desk, reading a bill.

Me, crying at three in the morning.

"My uncle wanted you to see how closely he watches," Trent said. "I want you to see that I do too."

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

"It's supposed to remind you who I used to be to you."

I tore the pictures in half and in half again and dropped them at his feet.

"You left me at a church, Trent, in front of a pastor and forty empty chairs."

"I was following orders."

"You were enjoying it."

His smile slipped.

"Harlan Foods has their quarterly lunch today at noon," he said. "My uncle's company sits on their advisory board, so I'm going to be there."

"I'd think hard before I stood up, Sorcha."

He walked back to his car.

I stayed at the gate until my hands stopped shaking.

At noon, the private dining room at the Drake smelled of lemon and money.

Eighteen Harlan executives sat at one long table, with Mavis at the head and Cade on her right in a navy suit.

I sat beside him.

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