“Which is?”
He didn’t answer. There was still so much he wasn’t telling her.
“You still want me to quit,” she said, as if tasting the bitterness would make it less potent.
“I just want you alive,” he said, like the admission pained him.
“You always say things like that,” she snapped, sharper than she meant. “Like I’m some asset to be moved off the board.”
Some of the light left his eyes. “I called you an asset before.” He sounded like he’d been thinking about it since. “I shouldn’t have.”
An apology, unadorned. Her chest did a small, traitorous thing. She hated that, too.
“I’m not resigning from Summit,” she said, carefully. “Even if I wanted to, leaving would make things look worse. And—” She hesitated, staring at the cup until his reflection steadied there. “Richard is not dirty. I won’t let anyone use this to smear him or Summit. Part of the reason I’m doing this with you is so I can prove that he’s not involved.”
“Loyalty isn’t a flaw,” he said. “It just makes you easier to hit.”
She held his gaze. “Enough. I get it. Just tell me what to do.”
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and sat back a fraction, as if giving her an inch cost him. “You keep your hands off original files. You build clean summaries that could be defended in a hallway conversation if you had to. You write questions, not conclusions. Joey will replicate on our side with independent sources.”
Norah’s mind ran ahead, mapping the safer path even as part of her bristled at the wordsafer.“I can route requests through Compliance without raising flags. Vendor lists, assessor records, recorded deeds. Public documents. If there’s a mismatch, it’s not me saying so—it’s the county register.”
“Good.” He glanced past her shoulder and his attention sharpened. “Incoming.”
A woman in a hot pink pantsuit appeared at the edge of the table, rain-speckled and smiling. “Norah! Oh my word, hi! I thought that was you. Of course, I thought surely I was mistaken. But here you are!
Norah summoned a professional smile for the junior analyst who worked on the twenty-fifth floor. “Alyssa. Hey.”
Alyssa’s eyes flicked to Marshall. Appraising, curious. “And you must be...?”
“This is Marshall,” Norah said smoothly, before Alyssa’s mouth could form the wordboyfriendorclient.“A friend. Marshall, this is Alyssa Ayers. We work together.”
“A friend,” Alyssa repeated, pleased. “Nice to meet you, Marshall.” She giggled and Norah had the distinct desire to splash her coffee on Alyssa’s hot pink sleeve.
Alyssa tucked her blonde hair behind her ear and flashed Marshall another flirtatious smile before turning back to Norah. “Good to finally see you with a life outside spreadsheets. Sorry to interrupt—just wanted to say hi before my next meeting.”
“Of course,” Norah said, the picture of polite dismissal. “Let’s catch up soon.”
Alyssa waggled her fingers and swept away with a flounce. “Have a great weekend!” The moment she was out of earshot, Norah exhaled. Marshall had angled his cup just enough to hide his mouth. His eyes, annoyingly, still said everything.
“Don’t,” she warned.
“I didn’t say a word.” She could see the laughter on his face, a nice departure from the robot super-soldier vibe she’d been getting from him.
“You didn’t have to.”
“She’s like Corporate Barbie. How do you take her seriously?”
Norah bit back her own laughter. She’d had the same exact thought about Alyssa on more than one occasion.
They were quiet until the espresso machine screamed and the room rearranged itself around the sound. The man behind them started another too-loud greeting. A couple in damp coats brushed past, bringing a chill of wet wool with them. The server refilled their water and vanished. Norah leaned in again, lower than before.
She couldn’t blame Alyssa for flirting. Marshall was every bit as handsome as he’d been at twenty. What shecouldblame was the way her pulse reacted to him now, as if it hadn’t learned anything since then. “Ignore her,” she said lightly. “She flirts with anything over five-foot-eight and capable of forming full sentences.”
Marshall’s gaze dipped to hers, amused...and too perceptive. “Good thing I barely meet the second requirement.” He took a slow sip of coffee, eyes never leaving her face, and something in her chest tightened.
She had wanted the years to make him an abstraction. They hadn’t. They’d made him more real. More appealing. The sharpness that used to be all edges and impulse had settled into something steadier. As if time had carved away everything unnecessary and left only purpose.
