Page 73 of The Contract

If I were Adrian Kingston, I’d realize the biggest advantage in this game is sitting right here in front of me.

And that means I need to keep an eye on Elena—especially where he’s concerned. I won’t give him the chance to get any ideas that involve Elena, let alone an opportunity to act on them.

I push off the doorframe, rolling my shoulders again. “I’ll figure it out.”

Elena studies me for a beat longer before exhaling.

“You should eat something.”

I blink. “What?”

She nods toward the kitchen. “There was a charcuterie board in the fridge when I got back. You’ve been in that meeting for hours. Food won’t kill you.”

I huff a quiet breath, more amused than I should be. “Are you giving me orders now?”

Elena tilts her head, considering. “Technically, you’re the boss of this arrangement. But I get paid to take care of you, don’t I?”

A short, surprised laugh escapes me.

She watches me for a second, then smirks.

“Go eat, Wolfe.”

I shake my head, lingering just a little longer than I should. “You’re awfully persistent.”

“And yet,” she calls as I turn back toward the kitchen, “here you are, listening to me anyway.”

She’s not wrong.

And that bothers me more than I’m willing to admit.

The morning is beautiful, but I can’t feel it.

The sky is the kind of crisp blue that only exists in the Hamptons.

A warm breeze carries the distant sound of waves breaking on the shore. Sunlight streams through the open veranda doors, spilling golden light over the Calloways’ long breakfast table.

It should be a perfect morning.

But my stomach is in knots.

Because I know Adrian is going to approach me at some point this weekend.

He always has a way—like a weasel.

A game he’s played for a long time—twisting moments, warping the truth, doing everything he can to always appear in control. He hasn’t changed.

I see it in the smug set of his mouth, the lazy, easy way he lounges at the far end of the table, as if he has all the time in the world.

He’s waiting.

Waiting for the perfect moment to corner me.

I won’t let him.

I focus on my plate, cutting into my eggs Benedict, listening to the quiet hum of conversation around me. The Calloways are in high spirits, chatting about the day ahead. Margo is already planning her victory in the afternoon’s shuffleboard tournament. Marcus and Mr. Calloway are discussing a new development property in the city.

“Is your breakfast good?”

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