Sure.
He wraps his fingers around my wrist, massaging my pulse with his thumb, and some of the frantic energy in my body settles.
“Save a dance for me?” he asks.
My throat tightens. “Always.”
“Damn straight.”
After a beat, he lets go and together we jog across the courtyard, toward the stone building that, up until today, I’ve only seen pictures of.
Inside, it’s cool. The scents of candles and incense tease the air, and beneath the hushed quiet, there’s a bubbling kind of anticipation.
And then a distant giggle.
“Sounds like the boys are that way.”
“On it.” Beckett gives me one last look, a little searching, but when I nod, he does too and then pivots and disappears down the hall.
I hear another set of high-pitched voices drifting from the opposite direction—but first… yes. A bathroom.
It doesn’t take long to spot the door markedSeñoritas, and I duck inside, grateful for a moment of quiet. The thick stone walls mute the outside noise instantly. Inside, it’s bright and unexpectedly lovely—terracotta tile, white accents, a row of spotless mirrors lining one wall. The sharp, herbal scent of eucalyptus lingers in the air, fresh and calming.
I slip into the far stall, lock it, and sit down—more to sit than anything else. My heart hasn’t quite caught up with the day yet. My brain definitely hasn’t.
I hear the outer door swing open.
“—I’m just saying, it could’ve been a lot worse,” Courtney is saying as she walks in, heels clicking lightly against the floor. “At least Aurum went down before more people got sucked in.”
Aurum Micro-PIPE.I make the connection immediately, but before I can think beyond that, Mrs. Grady’s voice echoes around the room.
“Plenty did get sucked in,” she says, not unkind, just… blunt. “So many people invested. Life savings. Retirement accounts. The news says at least a dozen executives could be indicted.” A pause… and then, “Midtown is involved. But ifhewere involved, he wouldn’t be here, would he?”
“He?” Courtney echoes.
“You know who I mean.”
I imagine their eyes meeting in the mirror, meaningfully.
“It’s a massive firm, Christine,” Courtney says. “Layers and layers of departments. There’s no way he’d be on this cruise if he was involved.”
“True.” The door to the next stall opens and closes. “I’m just so glad you steered us clear of it,” Mrs. Grady says. “If you hadn’t, our venture would have been dead before we even started.”
“Not to mention we’d have hurt hundreds of innocent people.” Courtney lets out a laugh. “But it just didn’t feel right, you know? ‘Guaranteed yield’ anything gives me hives.”
I hear the snap of a compact opening, the soft clicking of plastic as someone digs through a makeup bag.
A toilet flushes. Water runs. Perfectly normal stuff. Like they’re talking about the weather instead of something that could implode my life. The boys’ lives.
Our family.
Maybe.
“So what about that other fund you mentioned?” Mrs. Grady asks, tone light, almost bored. “The one with the municipal bonds? Do you still think it’s?—”
“Christine,” Courtney cuts in. “We are absolutely leaving business at home for the rest of the day. This isNoah’s wedding day.” Paper towel dispenser.
“Fair point.” Mrs. Grady laughs, softer this time.
