Chapter 3 - The Kiss That Wasn't Part of the Deal
Miles Harper followed me into the hallway five minutes after lunch.
I knew he would.
Men like Miles were predictable.
They were comfortable intimidating people who couldn't fight back.
And deeply uncomfortable around people who could.
“Mr. Cole.”
I stopped beside a window overlooking the harbor.
“Miles.”
“I think we should talk.”
“About Nora?”
His jaw tightened.
“Among other things.”
I waited.
He glanced toward the dining room.
“I'm not sure what Nora told you, but her mother and I have been discussing our future for months.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
“Because Nora doesn't seem to be involved in those discussions.”
He didn't appreciate that.
“You don't understand this family.”
“I'm beginning to.”
Miles stepped closer.
“Nora is impulsive. She gets ideas. Her mother knows how to manage her.”
I looked at him.
“Manage her?”
He realized his mistake.
“I mean support her.”
“No. You meant manage.”
His smile disappeared.
“Look, whatever arrangement you've made with her, I suggest you walk away.”
There it was.
The first threat.
I slipped my hands into my pockets.
“Why?”
“Because you don't belong in this.”
I nearly laughed.
A man whose investment firm had been stealing confidential information from my businesses was telling me where I belonged.
“Careful, Miles.”
He stiffened.
“Is that a threat?”
“No. Advice.”
Before he could answer, Nora appeared.
“There you are.”
Her eyes moved between us.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” Miles said quickly.
I smiled.
“Your friend was explaining how much he cares about your future.”
Nora's expression darkened.
“Miles, please leave us alone.”
He stared at her.
Then at me.
“Your mother won't accept this.”
Nora lifted her chin.
“That's her problem.”
For the first time, I saw genuine anger flash across his face.
He walked away without another word.
Nora exhaled.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“My family.”
“You didn't create them.”
“Unfortunately, I'm related to them.”
I laughed.
She leaned against the wall.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saying what you said in there.”
I shrugged.
“Someone needed to.”
Her eyes grew shiny.
“You don't understand. Nobody ever does that.”
I didn't know what to say.
I had spent most of my adult life making decisions that frightened people.
Protecting a woman's right to open a bakery shouldn't have felt like the most important thing I'd done in years.
But somehow it did.
She looked down at our joined hands.
“You can let go now.”
I hadn't realized I was still holding hers.
I released it.
“Sorry.”
She smiled faintly.
“I didn't say I minded.”
That was dangerous.
Far more dangerous than Miles Harper.
Because I knew how to handle enemies.
I had no idea how to handle a woman who made me want to become someone better.
We returned to the dining room for birthday cake.
Eleanor insisted that I sit beside her.
She questioned me about my childhood, my mother, and the last time I'd taken a vacation.
I told her my mother died when I was seventeen.
Her expression softened.
“And your father?”
“Gone before that.”
“Brothers? Sisters?”
“No.”
She studied me.
“That's a lonely way to build an empire.”
I didn't answer.
She patted my hand.
“Money buys plenty of things, Evan. Just not a place at the right table.”
I looked across the room.
Nora was laughing with Caroline.
For a moment, I imagined something absurd.
Coming home to that laughter.
Knowing someone would be waiting.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from my head of security, Marcus Vale.
We have a problem. Harbor Crown accessed the Sullivan Street property records. Someone inside your company helped them.
I typed back.
Find out who. Quietly.
Another message arrived.
There's more. The property is connected to Bennett Events.
I stared at the screen.
Sullivan Street.
Nora's bakery.
She had mentioned the address during our coffee-shop conversation.
A narrow brick storefront with an upstairs apartment and an old commercial kitchen.
She'd been negotiating a lease.
I had dismissed it as coincidence.
Now I wasn't so sure.
I looked up.
Miles stood near Diane, speaking quietly.
Diane's expression was tense.
Then she glanced toward Nora.
And I saw something that troubled me.
Fear.
Not annoyance.
Not disapproval.
Actual fear.
Nora approached with two slices of cake.
“Chocolate or lemon?”
“Whichever you made.”
She blinked.
“How did you know?”
“Your grandmother told me.”
She smiled.
“Lemon.”
I took the plate.
“Best cake I've had in years.”
“You haven't tasted it yet.”
“I'm confident.”
She laughed.
Then her phone rang.
The smile disappeared when she saw the caller.
“It's my lender.”
She answered.
“Hello?”
I watched her face drain.
“What do you mean, withdrawn?”
A pause.
“No, you approved everything last week.”
Another pause.
“Who contacted you?”
Her eyes filled.
She ended the call.
“What happened?” I asked.
She stared at the floor.
“My bakery loan was canceled.”
I stood.
“Why?”
“They said someone raised concerns about my financial reliability.”
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“They wouldn't tell me.”
Across the room, Diane watched us.
Miles stood beside her.
Smiling.
And I knew exactly where to begin looking.
But before I could move, Nora grabbed my wrist.
“Evan.”
Her voice broke.
“Please don't do anything.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because every time someone fights my battles for me, my mother uses it as proof that I can't handle my own life.”
That stopped me.
She was right.
And she had no idea how difficult it was for me to hear.
I lowered my voice.
“Then what do you want?”
She swallowed.
“I want to go outside. I want to breathe. And I want one hour where nobody tells me who I'm supposed to be.”
I offered my hand.
“Then let's go.”
We walked out through the garden.
The afternoon sunlight had turned the harbor gold.
Nora stopped beneath an old magnolia tree.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Why did you agree to help me?”
I considered lying.
Instead, I said, “Because you made me laugh.”
She smiled.
“That simple?”
“No.”
“What else?”
“Because when you looked at me, you didn't seem afraid.”
She stepped closer.
“Should I be?”
I looked into her eyes.
“Yes.”
Her smile faded.
“Why?”
Before I could answer, she rose onto her toes and kissed my cheek.
“Thank you for today.”
It was a small kiss.
Barely a second.
Yet it shook something inside me that years of violence had never touched.
Then my phone rang.
Marcus.
I answered.
His voice was urgent.
“Boss, we found the person who authorized the transfer.”
“Who?”
He hesitated.
“Your uncle. Richard Cole.”
My blood went cold.
May you like
Richard had been dead for eleven years.
Or at least, that was what I'd been told.
