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“I never gave you any falsehoods. I gave you my heart! My support! And I’ll give you a ticket to go to Boston with me if you choose me over the bakery.” He swallowed hard because he didn’t fear Nagy or inferno as much as her answer to this hypothetical question.

“Tell me now,” she said, breath quick. “Did you ask Mrs. Dove-Lyon to bind my future to yours before or after you got the ticket for Boston, to blackmail me to come with you?”

Reach for her. Hold the line. He took one step—no farther—so his mouth would not lie at a distance. The Den breathed outside the door: a laugh, a card falling, a door settling back into its frame. Here, silence braced like a wall between them.

“Rosine,” he said, soft and unshaken, “I have two tickets.”

“Oh, that’s grand!” She puffed and blew into the air, but more tears came. “A potential return?” Her voice failed, and she inhaled deeply. “Don’t. Expect. Me. To. Wait. For. You.”

“I never did. And the other ticket is for you,” Sander said as he rose, careful not to tower over her though. That would only make matters worse.

“Ah, certainly. What was your plan then? Seduce me and force me to go to Boston, give up my independence?”

“No!”

The pawn waited between them like a heartbeat. He drew breath to answer—when the knob behind her ticked under her grip. Don’t leave! But Rosine’s gaze cut sharper, bright with hurt and heat.

“Did you,” she pressed, every word precise, “or did you not set a match for me without my leave?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but what came next was most unexpected.

Chapter Nine

Two minutes earlier…

When Rosine had left Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office, she’d turned the corner to the staircase and couldn’t hold back the tears.

He’d manipulated her.

Toyed with her like a pawn on the chessboard.

And how could she outwit him, a master in the most difficult game of strategy?

Argh!

Then a click.

Sander emerged from Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office. He’d hesitated and then turned to the corridor.

Fury rose in Rosine’s chest.

He was avoiding her?

Let’s see about that.

He disappeared into the hidden office, his chess sanctuary, and she followed him.

I’m going in.

The small office at the end of the hall held its usual cool ink, old wood, and the quiet made Rosine’s anger feel too loud. Sander stood by the little chess table, the pieces already in their ranks. He looked up with his piercing eyes that made her flip, and that was even more upsetting because he was angry. Yet, the instant she entered, he didn’t even seem startled… as if whatever she brought, he would take.

“You set a match without asking me,” she said. Her voice held. Her hands did not.

“Yes.” No embroidery. “And I meant to tell you tonight.”

The steadiness of him pricked worse than excuses. “You went around me and contributed to a lease,” she said. “You put your hands on my future without my permission.”

“I put them under it.” His words stayed even. “A lease you can hold. Deliveries that still arrive if a raid sweeps the Den’s kitchen. Terms written so what is yours remains yours—married or not. If you never take my hand, you still take that door and keep your independence.”