Page 30 of Keller

The caption runs beneath:

Ridge Stone, Executive Vice President of Stone Intermodal, pictured with brothers Keller Stone, Wells Stone, Cain Stone and Rhodes Stone. Not pictured, Reeves Stone, who is serving his country in the Middle East.

I already know Ridge was promoted to CEO once Robert died.

I zoom in. My breath catches as I lean back in my chair, hands dropping to my lap.

I press my palms against my thighs. The fabric of my pants is rough under my sweaty hands. The light pur of my PC is the only noise as my world implodes.

I slept with a target's brother.

Not a target yet. Not officially. Robert Stone's death investigation is preliminary. This is a financial review, nothing more. It isn't inappropriate yet. Right?

My phone tap-taps against the desk. I flip it over without thinking. to see a text from Keller. My mouth goes dry.

Dinner tonight?

Two words. I stare at the screen. The message sits there, waiting. My thumb hovers over the keyboard.

How do I handle this?

I can't ghost him. That looks suspicious. I can't keep seeing him. That's a fucking ethics violation waiting to detonate. I can't tell him who I am or what I'm doing because that compromises everything.

I have to end it.

The thought is clear and logical. It's the only option that makes sense.

But my stomach twists anyway.

I set the phone down and close the photo on my screen. Keller's face disappears, replaced by the empty desktop background.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

EIGHT

Keller

Carnival Courts:Many elite krewes present a formal royal court at their annual ball, composed of maids, dukes, and ceremonial attendants chosen from established families within the membership. These courts serve as highly choreographed displays of lineage, tradition, and social standing within krewe society.

The light cutsthrough the loft at a low angle, throwing long rectangles across the concrete floor. I lean against the counter in the kitchen and pull up a text from Quinn.

The message is glaring. Three words in a tiny gray bubble.

sorry—can't tonight

The fact that it's all lowercase with no punctuation isn't lost on me. Before, she was flirty. This is dry, not offering an alternative. That's it. No.

I read it twice. My jaw tightens. I force myself not to make any more of it than it is. She can't, that's it.

It doesn't matter, anyway. I have no business getting too attached to someone.

What bothers me now is not that she said no. It's that I'd counted on yes.

I push off the counter and cross to the windows. The city sprawls below, rooftops and balconies catching the last of the late afternoon sun. My reflection stares back at me in the glass, dark eyes behind black frames.

This is fixable. I just need to shift my focus.

I pick up my phone again and pull up West's number. Two rings and he answers.