Chapter 2

Ten years later, I was back in New York.

Not as the shy girl from next door, but as Claire Anderson, lead architect on the new skyline-defining project for a London firm.

The charity gala was on a rooftop overlooking Central Park. The air was cool, the city lights a glittering carpet below. I felt powerful. In control.

My colleague, a charming British man named Julian, was telling me a story about his disastrous attempt at sailing. I was laughing, a real laugh, when I felt a pair of eyes on me.

I turned. And there he was.

Ethan Carter.

He looked almost the same. Older, maybe. Sharper lines in his suit, but the same easy confidence, the same dark hair. He was staring at me, his drink frozen halfway to his lips.

He started walking toward me. Julian, sensing a shift, put a light hand on the small of my back. "Everything alright, Claire?"

"Perfectly," I said, my voice colder than I intended.

Ethan stopped in front of us. His eyes flickered from my face to Julian' s hand on my back. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

"Claire," he said. His voice was a low rumble that I remembered too well.

"Ethan," I replied, my tone flat. "What a surprise."

"I didn't know you were back," he said, ignoring Julian completely.

"I've been back for a week. Business."

"You should have called."

"Why would I do that?"

His confidence faltered for a second. He looked lost. Then his eyes hardened as he looked at Julian again.

"Who's this?" he asked, the old possessiveness creeping into his tone. The same tone he used in high school when another guy talked to a girl he considered his.

Before I could answer, Julian extended a hand. "Julian Croft. A colleague of Claire's."

Ethan didn't take his hand. He took a step closer to me, invading my space. "You need to be careful, Claire. You don't know who you can trust in this city."

It was so absurd, so arrogant, that a laugh escaped my lips. It was a sharp, bitter sound.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"He's right," a silky voice said from behind Ethan.

Jessica Vance. She slinked up to his side, linking her arm through his. She looked me up and down, a faint, condescending smile on her face. "New York is full of sharks. You wouldn't want to get hurt."

The anger that I had buried for a decade flared hot and bright.

"Don't worry about me, Ethan," I said, looking him straight in the eye. "I learned a long time ago exactly who I can't trust."

I turned my back on them, took Julian's arm, and walked away without another word.