Julian closed the file before Ethan entered the office.

He had spent most of his life learning how to lie without looking like he was lying.

Smile.

Relax the shoulders.

Never look toward the exit.

By the time Ethan appeared, Julian was leaning against the bookshelf with a glass in his hand.

Ethan stopped.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Drinking.”

“In my office?”

“You have better whiskey.”

Ethan looked toward the computer.

Julian watched his face.

Nothing.

No panic.

No guilt.

That almost made it worse.

“You left the door open,” Julian said.

Ethan crossed the room and locked the screen.

“That doesn’t make it an invitation.”

Julian took a sip.

“Sensitive?”

“Yes.”

“Corporate secrets?”

“Among other things.”

There was the answer.

Julian smiled.

“Relax. I don’t understand nerd.”

He walked past Ethan.

Ethan caught his wrist.

Julian looked down at the hand.

Then up.

For one dangerous second, the kiss from earlier existed between them again.

Ethan released him.

“About tonight—”

“Forget it.”

“I don’t want to.”

Julian’s chest tightened.

But the words on the screen were still burning in his head.

TARGET: CROSS SUCCESSOR.

“You said it was a mistake.”

“I was wrong.”

Julian almost hated him for saying that.

Almost.

Instead he smiled.

“Good night, Blackwood.”

He left.

---

The next morning, Julian disappeared for six hours.

Ethan knew because he checked.

Not the security cameras.

Not officially.

He checked Julian’s room at eight.

Then the kitchen at eight twenty.

Then the garage at nine.

At ten, he finally called.

No answer.

At eleven, Julian texted.

Busy.

That single word irritated Ethan more than it should have.

At noon, Adrian entered Ethan’s office.

“You look terrible.”

“Thank you.”

“Relationship problems?”

“There is no relationship.”

Adrian looked toward the photograph from the foundation gala on Ethan’s desk.

Julian was laughing.

Ethan was looking at Julian instead of the camera.

“Of course.”

Ethan turned the frame facedown.

“What did you find?”

Adrian handed him a folder.

“Kane Strategic has been moving money through six shell companies.”

“To whom?”

“That’s the problem. Both sides.”

Ethan frowned.

“Blackwood and Cross?”

“Someone inside each family has been receiving payments.”

Ethan opened the file.

Another photograph slipped out.

Julian.

Taken seven years earlier.

Shorter hair.

Black suit.

Standing beside Marcus Cross.

Not in the background.

At the head of the table.

Ethan looked up.

“What is this?”

“Cross succession ceremony.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Apparently not.”

Ethan read the attached report.

His expression went still.

JULIAN CROSS.

SOLE SURVIVING SON OF ALEXANDER CROSS.

DESIGNATED SUCCESSOR.

The reckless racer.

The bar singer.

The man who pretended to barely tolerate his own family.

The Cross heir.

Ethan closed the folder.

“Son of a bitch.”

Adrian watched him.

“You didn’t know?”

“No.”

“And he doesn’t know what you really do for Blackwood.”

Ethan looked at him sharply.

“No.”

Adrian nodded.

“Then congratulations. Your fake engagement has two fake identities.”

---

Julian spent the afternoon at Mason’s garage.

Mason slid out from beneath a Corvette.

“You look like someone kicked your dog.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“That explains why you’re emotionally defective.”

Julian threw the printed termination order onto the workbench.

Mason read it.

His expression changed.

“Where did you get this?”

“Ethan’s computer.”

“You broke into his computer?”

“It was open.”

“That’s somehow worse.”

Julian leaned against the bench.

“Blackwood Command authorized a hit on the Cross successor.”

Mason looked at him.

“You.”

“Yes.”

“And you think Ethan ordered it?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Julian looked away.

Mason knew him too well.

“You like him.”

“Shut up.”

“You like the billionaire.”

“I said shut up.”

“You kissed him?”

Julian stared.

Mason’s mouth fell open.

“Oh my God.”

“It was one kiss.”

“You kissed Ethan Blackwood?”

“He kissed me.”

“That distinction means absolutely nothing.”

Julian grabbed the paper.

“This is why I don’t tell you things.”

“You didn’t tell me. Your face did.”

Julian folded the document.

Mason became serious.

“If he wanted you dead, you’ve been sleeping twenty feet from him for three weeks.”

“I know.”

“He’s had opportunities.”

“I know.”

“He saved your life.”

“I know.”

“Then maybe someone wants you to find this.”

Julian looked at him.

That possibility was worse.

---

At the penthouse that night, Ethan was waiting.

Julian walked in.

“Nice suit.”

“Where were you?”

“Miss me?”

“Answer me.”

Julian tossed his keys onto the counter.

“No.”

Ethan stared at him.

Julian stared back.

The game had changed.

Both men knew it.

Neither knew how much the other knew.

Ethan approached.

“Who are you?”

Julian smiled.

“That’s philosophical.”

“Who are you, Julian?”

“The man you’re pretending to marry.”

“You’re Alexander Cross’s son.”

Silence.

Julian’s smile disappeared.

Ethan continued.

“You’re not Marcus’s reckless nephew.”

Julian’s eyes hardened.

“You investigated me.”

“You lied to me.”

“So did you.”

Ethan stopped.

Julian pulled the printed termination order from his jacket and threw it onto the counter.

Ethan looked down.

His face changed.

“Where did you get this?”

“Your computer.”

“You went through my files.”

“Someone ordered my death.”

“I didn’t.”

“Convincing.”

Ethan grabbed the paper.

“I’ve never seen this.”

“It was on your machine.”

“That doesn’t mean I put it there.”

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know.”

Julian laughed without humor.

“That’s convenient.”

Ethan stepped closer.

“If I wanted you dead, Julian, you would never have seen an order.”

The room went silent.

Julian’s eyes turned cold.

“That supposed to reassure me?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Julian backed away.

“Because it didn’t.”

He went upstairs.

Ethan followed.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“You’re not leaving.”

Julian turned.

“Try stopping me.”

For a second, Ethan looked like he might.

Instead, he said, “Someone is manipulating us.”

“Maybe.”

“Think.”

“I am.”

“You’re walking directly into whatever they want.”

Julian grabbed his jacket.

“Better than sleeping beside a man who might have been ordered to kill me.”

Something in Ethan’s face broke.

Only for a second.

Julian saw it.

He hated that he saw it.

He hated that he cared.

“Julian.”

Julian stopped at the elevator.

Ethan’s voice was quieter now.

“I didn’t order it.”

Julian looked at him.

He wanted to believe him.

That was the problem.

The elevator doors closed.

When Ethan entered Julian’s room ten minutes later, the closet was empty.

On the bed lay the engagement ring.

Beside it was a note.

Don’t follow me.

Ethan read it once.

Then picked up his gun.

“Not a chance.”