Chapter 1

At the new-entrepreneurs panel forum, Pamela Simmons gave the press three chances to ask questions.

"Ms. Simmons, who is the most important person on your road to building this company?"

The reporter regretted it the moment the words were out.

The question was a wasted chance.

Because that person had to be me. Jim James, only son of the chairman of the Pacific Chamber of Commerce, and Pamela Simmons's lawful husband.

Down in the audience, I let a corner of my mouth lift too.

Waiting for her to say it.

But what Pamela said stunned the room.

"The most important person in my life... is the roommate I shared an apartment with."

"Ten years ago, when I'd just come to New York to grind it out, I split a single bed with someone, both of us renting a three-hundred-dollar basement apartment."

"Only beside him could I fall asleep in peace."

"Without him at my side, there'd be no me today."

The reporter sighed warmly.

"Ms. Simmons, you're so loyal. You still hold on to that sisterhood from your struggling days."

"No. Not a sister."

She looked straight into the camera.

"The roommate who shared that bed with me was a man."

The room detonated. Every head turned toward me at once.

Three seconds later, I lifted my hand and gave the order.

"Find that man."

"Then... take back everything Pamela has."

1

"Who is he?"

I stopped Pamela backstage.

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Haven't found him yet."

"Impossible."

I let my mouth curve, studying her.

"Three years ago, your company took off."

"First thing you did was buy your parents a new house."

"Second thing, you got your best friend a luxury car."

"Your relatives, your classmates, your teachers... even the security guard at your gate. You slotted every one of them into Simmons Corp."

"A woman as sentimental as you, and you'd forget the roommate who shared your bed, the one who matters most to you?"

I bit down hard on those last words.

Sure enough, Pamela's face changed.

"I won't tell you."

"Don't underestimate what I can do."

I tipped her chin up, amused.

Her body went stiff.

Then the balance shifted.

She rose onto her toes and pressed her forehead to mine.

A staff member passing by flushed red and hurried off.

Pamela's eyes were dark.

"Jim, he matters to me. All those nights I couldn't get through, he was the one beside me, telling me to keep going."

"That kind of encouragement has stayed with me all this time. That's why I said the most important person on my road was him."

"But don't worry. We only slept on the same bed, with the blanket between us. Nothing crossed the line."

She paused.

"You're the only one I'll ever marry and have children with."

She rarely said this much.

Something in me softened.

I'd barely begun to think about calling off the order when I caught the silver glint on her knuckle.

The latest designer wedding rings, a globally limited-edition pair.

One was on her hand.

Then... where was the other?

Not with me.

I lowered my gaze and nodded.

"I lost face today. You're going to make it up to me."

Pamela let out a faint breath and nuzzled her forehead against mine, close and easy.

Then she settled a gentle smile onto her face.

"All right. Whatever you say, Young Mr. James."

Pamela took me to an exclusive private fine-dining place to make it up to me.

The setting was lovely.

But my attention stayed on my phone the whole time.

My people worked fast. In under half a day they'd already pinned down the identity of Pamela's bed-sharing roommate. An employee at her own company, Chad Matthews.

I narrowed my eyes. A name I'd never heard.

Not a secretary. Not a department head.

An ordinary rank-and-file employee.

And one who'd been with the company since Simmons Corp's founding.

It took me one second to understand what Pamela had done.

She'd been afraid that giving him a high post would tip me off.

The further I scrolled through the file, the colder I went.

All these years, every time Pamela traveled for work, she'd brought Chad Matthews and no one else.

I remembered watching a foreign movie with her long ago, when she'd said:

"I have a friend who loves to travel, but we were both too poor. I promised him that once I could afford it, I'd take him all over the world."

So they went to Switzerland, to North America, to Japan, to Australia...

Business trips on paper. In truth, showing the person she loved the whole world.

And to think I'd assumed that so-called friend was her best girlfriend.

I'd wired her plenty of money to go traveling with that friend.

A cold smile pulled at my mouth.

All at once Pamela slid the phone out of my hand and set it face-down on the table.

She rolled up the sleeve of her lace blouse with a delicate air, picked up a piece of fish, and fed it to me.

I opened my mouth on reflex.

Watching me chew, she let her mouth curve.

"Eat properly, Young Mr. James. Stop looking at your phone."

Then I froze where I sat.

The heat of ginger spread across my tongue, flushing my whole body while my face went white.

I spat it out at once.

"What's wrong?"

Pamela frowned, patting my back in a hurry, calling for help.

I threw off her hand.

"Pamela, you know this. I'm allergic to ginger."

The head chef walked in as I said it and bent at once into an apology.

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Simmons. You didn't leave a special note this time, so we made it the way you usually like it, heavy on the ginger. This one's on the house."

Pamela stiffened, meeting my searching look.

"I'm allergic to ginger. You don't eat it either."

"So who's the one who loves ginger?"

She didn't even need to answer. Chad Matthews's file spelled it out on my phone.

"Chad Matthews loves it. Ms. Simmons has taken him to every high-end restaurant in the city. These are the charge records."

"He's especially fond of the fish at The Bamboo Grove, extra ginger. This year alone Ms. Simmons has brought him nearly a hundred times."

Pamela recovered her composure fast.

"A client ordered it."

The chef caught that something was off and nodded along, again and again.

I pressed my phone dark.

"This fish is good. I'm buying it outright. Five million. From now on it's made only for me, and never for anyone else."

The chef, handed a fortune out of nowhere, grinned so wide he couldn't close his mouth.

And beside me, Pamela's eyes dipped low, the veins standing out on her hand as it clenched tight.