Prologue
GIANNA
At twenty-nine,I was terrified of tomorrow.
The hotel terrace stretched empty before me, New York glittering far below. Inside—just a minute ago—Sarah had extracted one more promise from me: to visit often.
Hector, my ex-boss, was probably calculating exactly how long sentiment required him to stay before he could escape back to work. Earlier, my mother had stood near the doorway wearing that expression she saved for moments when she was proud but afraid to say out loud—like naming good things might make them disappear.
Seven years. I’d spent seven years working for the Valdez family, keeping my head down and my dreams folded small enough to fit in a pocket. And now I was supposed to unfold them, walk back into NYU Law like those years hadn’t happened.
The severance check from Hector in my purse felt heavier than it should, a quiet reminder that I was actually doing this.
I gripped the terrace railing and breathed in the cold April air, trying to steady the panic crawling up my throat. The city stretched out forever, indifferent and beautiful, full of people who knew exactly where they were going. I used to be one ofthem. At twenty-two, I’d had plans and ambition and the kind of certainty that comes from not knowing how fast everything can fall apart.
Then my father died on a stairwell, and certainty became a luxury I could no longer afford.
Footsteps sounded behind me.
I stiffened. The terrace was supposed to be empty. I’d checked before coming out here, made sure I could fall apart in private if I needed to. But someone was walking toward me, their shoes whispering against the stone.
I didn’t turn around. Maybe if I ignored them, they’d leave.
The footsteps stopped a few feet away.
“Sorry. Didn’t realize anyone was out here.”
The voice was low and warm, edged with amusement, like he’d caught me doing something I shouldn’t. I turned.
A man stood near the terrace door, tall and dressed in a way that made expensive look effortless. Dark hair styled to perfection.
Gray eyes that looked directly at me, not through me the way most people did. He had the kind of face that got more interesting the longer you looked at it—sharp angles softened by a mouth that curved like he knew something funny you didn’t.
I recognized him vaguely from earlier. One of Hector’s friends who’d been in the hotel lobby, the two of them exchanging brief words before Hector joined us for dinner.
Even back then I had noticed him. He had a face people didn’t usually forget.
“There’s plenty of terrace,” I said, turning back to the view before he could see how fast my heart was beating. “Take your half.”
“Generous of you.” He moved to the railing but not where I expected—closer than polite strangers usually stood, far enoughto give me space but near enough that I felt aware of him. “Considering I’m technically the one intruding.”
“You want me to leave?”
“No. Definitely not.” He leaned against the railing, angling toward me. “I came out here to escape small talk. Finding someone who looks like they’re doing the same thing? That’s luck.”
I glanced at him sideways. He watched the city, but something in the way he stood told me he was paying attention to me too—like he could track both at once.
“What were you escaping?” I asked.
“A conversation about quarterly earnings that somehow turned into a debate about yacht specifications.” His mouth quirked. “You?”
“Goodbyes.”
“Ah.” He nodded like that explained everything. “Those are worse.”
We stood in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—just two people who’d fled to the same hiding spot at the same time.
“I’m Archie,” he said finally, offering his hand.
