Phoenix appears in the doorway, devastatingly handsome in a charcoal suit. He watches me apply lipstick, his eyes dark with something I can't name.
"You look beautiful," he says.
"I look terrified."
"That too." He comes up behind me, his hands settling on my waist. "If it's too much?—"
"No." I meet his eyes in the mirror. "I want to meet them. I want to know where you come from."
"Even if where I come from is complicated?"
"Phoenix." I turn to face him, my hands flattening against his chest. "I watched you kill a man three days ago. I think we're past complicated."
Something shifts in his expression. Pain. Guilt. Love. All of it tangled together.
"I'd do it again," he says quietly. "You know that, right? If anyone ever tried to hurt you?—"
"I know." I rise on my toes and kiss him softly. "I know."
We stand there for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in. Two people bound by blood and secrets and something that feels too big to name.
"We should go," he finally says. "We're already late."
I take one last look in the mirror. I smooth down the silk of my dress. Square my shoulders.
I can do this. I can smile and make small talk and pretend I'm not falling apart inside.
We're halfwayto the door when the bell rings.
Phoenix freezes. His hand tightens on mine.
"Expecting someone?" I ask.
"No."
He moves toward the door slowly, his body tense. I hang back, watching, my heart suddenly pounding for reasons I can't explain.
He opens the door.
There are two men dressed in suits standing at the doorstep. They have an unmistakable air of authority that makes my blood run cold. The older one has gray at his temples and sharp eyes that sweep past Phoenix to land on me. The younger one is already pulling out a notebook.
"Mr. Crawford?" The older one flashes a badge. "I'm Detective Reeves. This is Detective Nowak. LAPD."
Phoenix's voice is perfectly calm. "Can I help you, detectives?"
"We hope so." Morrison's gaze flicks between us—Phoenix in his expensive suit, me in my cocktail dress. "We have some questions about Marcus Webb."
The name hits me like a physical blow. I feel the color drain from my face.
Phoenix doesn't flinch. "What about him?"
"He's been reported missing. His family is concerned." Morrison pauses, his eyes settling on me with uncomfortable intensity. "Mind if we come in?"
I stand frozen in the hallway, my hand clutching my purse while my heart slams against my ribs.
They're here about Marcus.
Phoenix glances back at me. Just for a second. Just long enough for our eyes to meet.
