Me:I’m going through a fucking mid-life crisis.
Logan:You hesitating?
I don’t reply.
Logan:Walk away. You hesitate, you break.
I close the message thread, and slide the phone back into my pocket.
He’s right about everything. But he’s wrong about one thing. I’m already broken.
7
WHY THIS MAN?
CALISTA
Ishouldn’t be thinking about him.
He’s a stranger. A man who stepped out of the shadows. A man who knew my name before I gave it. I was sure of it.
He was dangerous.
Still is, Calista.
And yet…he saved me.
Did someone get me security? Was he my bodyguard? That is the only way this makes sense.
I sit at my kitchen table, my dinner of minestrone sitting untouched, uninteresting, cold.
The city hums outside, muffled by snow.
My heart is still racing. I don’t know if it’s fear or something worse. Something softer.
That man—whoever he is—was calm in a way that spoke volumes about who he is. A man who took another one down like it was a minor inconvenience. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even breathe heavy.
He didn’t tell me who he is.
Why?
Because he’s a professional, just like the man with a knife.
I smile. My shadow is protecting me.
I like the way he looks at me…like he knows me. Like I’m not just a job or a bystander or a woman walking the streets of New York City, too stupid to know better.
No, he looks at me like I matter.
That’s dangerous, too, Calista.
I close my eyes for a long moment, remembering his face.
The sharp cheekbones. The scar on his jaw.
I wonder how he got it.
The full lips.
