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I take the report and leave before staying becomes more difficult to explain than arriving.

Later that day, I’m back in my study reviewing the next day’s schedule when I reach a 4:00 meeting with the London investment team. I read the entry, then glance at the rest of the afternoon.

The meeting can happen at 2:30 without inconveniencing anyone. The call scheduled immediately before it can move to the morning. Neither change is necessary, but both leave a useful stretch of time open late in the day.

I know Blaire will still be working at the estate. My hand remains on the trackpad for several seconds before I move the meeting. Another commitment shifts with it. Two changes, both perfectly defensible if anyone asks. Nobody will.

I’ve spent most of my adult life arranging personal decisions around responsibility. Work goes onto the calendar first; everything else finds whatever space remains.

I stare at the newly opened block on tomorrow’s schedule. Then I close the calendar without changing it back.

Chapter Three

Blaire

By the end of the week, Ross’s visits to the library have stopped feeling accidental.

I’m reviewing a set of catalogue notes with Margaret when he appears in the doorway again, one hand in his trouser pocket and the other holding a slim folder I’m almost certain could have been delivered by anyone else in the building.

Margaret excuses herself to take a call, and Ross crosses toward my table.

“You’re becoming a regular,” I tell him.

His eyes settle on me. “I’m interested in the audit.”

I glance at the folder in his hand.

“You have an entire family office capable of receiving updates.”

“I’m aware.”

“And several people who could answer whatever question is in that folder.”

“I’m aware of that too.”

I look at him for a moment. Ross looks back. Neither of us says the obvious thing. The corner of his mouth shifts slightly, and I realize he knows exactly what I’m implying. I lower my eyes to the papers in front of me before my own smile gives me away.

“All right. What’s the question?”

He places the folder beside my notes.

“One of the catalogue entries references an architectural drawing that no one seems able to locate.”

“That’s because it was misfiled with the estate plans.”

Ross lifts an eyebrow. “You found it?”

“Yesterday.”

His expression changes just enough to make me want to laugh.

“You could’ve emailed,” I say.

“I could have.”

I nod slowly. “Good. We agree on something.”

This time he does smile. It’s brief, but it changes his whole face. Then he pulls out the chair beside mine instead of leaving.