Chapter 1

01

In the third year of dating Delilah Henson, we finished our degrees and came home together.

Among the girlfriends throwing her a welcome-home dinner, there was one man.

From the moment we walked in, his face was cold, set in a smile that wasn't quite a smile.

"Weren't you supposed to come back with some blond, blue-eyed guy? You go abroad and drag home a local? Aren't you embarrassed?"

Delilah just laughed it off, easygoing, and turned to introduce him.

"Ed, this is Val Delgado. I've mentioned him to you."

That was when I finally understood. The friend Delilah contacted every single week while we were abroad—

was a man.

I smiled, polite.

"Hello. I'm Edmund Mason."

"That thing you just said—were you insulting me, or yourself?"

01

The smile on his face thinned in an instant.

"Well. Your boyfriend's got a sharp mouth."

Beside me, Delilah suddenly broke into a smile.

"Are you mad? Fine, I'll apologize. You're the bigger person, right? Let it go."

Her whole face was soft, tender, wrapped around him.

A meekness I had never once seen from her.

Val ate it up.

He slowly lifted the glass in his hand and brought it to her lips.

"Blue Label on the rocks. Your favorite. Call it my apology accepted—you're getting off easy."

Under the bright lights, the smudge of lipstick on the rim of that glass looked like some silent dare.

My nails dug into my palm. I kept my voice as level as I could.

"She doesn't drink."

Val looked like he'd heard something hilarious.

"Doesn't drink? Since when, Miss Henson?"

"Or am I remembering it wrong? Wasn't it you who used to haul me out of bed at three in the morning to go drinking?"

She laughed softly and explained.

"The bars abroad were too loud, and I wasn't in the mood. It really has been a long time."

"Back home it's different. For you, I'll drink myself under the table any day."

"This one's mine."

And she reached out, took the glass, tipped her head back, and drained it.

I froze completely.

Three years together, and in front of me she'd always acted like half a can of beer was too much.

Around alcohol she kept a cool, careful distance.

There's no drinking-table culture abroad, but they love their drinking games.

Someone once teased her for hiding behind a glass of juice, said she couldn't play, so I drank round after round in her place.

Only when I'd flushed red all over did anyone realize I was allergic to alcohol.

That was the first time I ever saw Delilah lose her temper.

She tore into those classmates in language I'd never heard from her, then pulled me against her and waited for the ambulance, frantic.

Afterward they pumped my stomach, and I was so sick I couldn't eat for a week.

She fussed over me, and scolded me at the same time for not taking better care of myself.

The one thing she never told me

was that she could drink. That she could really drink.

Watching her knock back the glass, the look Val turned on me carried a few notes of triumph.

"Edmund, right? Looks like you don't know your Lila as well as you think."

When I didn't answer, he only warmed up more.

"Honestly, I'm curious. When this little booze hound isn't drinking, how do the two of you connect at all? Just the stuff in bed?"

Around the private room, the group laughed, none of it kind.

Delilah pressed a hand to her forehead, exasperated but fond.

"Val, that's enough."

"What, I can't even ask?"

"Besides, that body of yours—which of us here hasn't seen it?"

A roar of laughter went up, loud enough to lift the roof.

And in all that noise, I nearly forgot how to breathe.

Meeting my eyes, Val seemed to remember something, and started to explain.

"Don't read into it. One Valentine's Day she got wasted at my place, couldn't even stand, made me walk her to the bathroom—and then insisted I take her bra off for her because it was in the way..."

He finished, and the room burst out laughing again.

An unnatural flush crept over Delilah's usually cool face.

"I'm begging you, please, can we drop it? I've told you, I don't remember any of it..."

"How can I let it go? I was a perfectly innocent man, and you dragged me into it, and now you want to deny it?"

She shook her head helplessly. He looked immensely pleased with himself.

And I, who had said nothing this whole time, let out a cold laugh.

That single laugh dropped the whole room into silence.

Val instantly swung the point of it back at me.

"Oh, right. Lila says you're brilliant. Top of the class, scholarship every year."

"I've heard guys like you—bad background, a decent face—half kill themselves to study abroad just so they can land a woman like her. Making it this far, you must be pretty pleased with yourself."

I looked at him coldly, the way you look at a fool.

If my absurdly wealthy parents ever heard that, they'd probably choke on their own blood.

Reading my expression as displeasure, he thought he'd hit a nerve and pressed on:

"Lila and I go back almost ten years. Every boyfriend she's had since high school knows me."

"You're the first one who's ever dared to talk back to my face."

My voice stayed calm.

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

He choked on that for a moment, then finally couldn't help raising his voice.

"Well, I'll say my piece up front today.

From now on you can dislike me all you want, but if you ever mistreat Lila, I won't let it go.

The man's voice landed hard and final.

A scatter of applause broke out around the room.

Someone praised Val for being loyal, someone envied Delilah her luck.

Only I lifted my eyelids a fraction, glanced once at Delilah, then once at Val.

Then my lips parted, curved with a smile.

"So in what capacity are you speaking to me right now?"

"As Delilah's senior partner?"