Page 11 of Blind Prophet

Sophia shakes her head and lifts her eyebrows, gesturing that she’s never heard it either.

The look Stella gives me says that this is why I’m still single; she might be on to something.

“What did he do that turned you off? Whatever it was, that’s on your out list. Something that gives you the ick. Like, for some women, it’s a velcro wallet. Boom. Out.” She gestures with her thumb over her shoulder.

I shake my head, half-laughing. A list? Really?

“Oh, come on,” Stella pleads. “I need to know. I have to prep Ethan.”

“I’m sure Ethan would love for his mom to set him up on a date,” Sophia says.

“If I don’t, he’ll stay single forever,” Stella retorts.

The door creaks open, and Trevor holds out a cell. “Ethan’s on the line.”

Stella jumps and runs for the phone. They exit together, and I look to Sophia for an explanation.

“He’s been on a mission and couldn’t contact them.”

“A mission like disabling the ship with the chemical weapons?” Ethan’s Special Forces, but they’ve been tight-lipped with specifics.

“It’s possible.” Sophia shrugs. “I can’t believe you’re still married. I could’ve gotten you lawyers. Good lawyers. He’s not unbeatable.”

Perhaps. But our legal system favors the wealthy. And Dorian’s wealth is unfathomable to someone like me. Dorian is Halston Moore’s only child. When, at fifty-two, Halston became a single father, he steered his only son into the family business. Halston Moore Sr., Dorian’s grandfather, was one of the original founders of Bedrock Advisory, one of the world’s leading providers of investment, advisory, and risk management solutions. On top of generational wealth, Dorian stands to inherit an inordinate sum. Plus, from what I’ve read, Zenith, the company he founded and hasn’t taken public, is considered to be one of the most valuable privately held companies in the world.

When I met Dorian at a pub during my study abroad, I was oblivious. He’d been a good-looking grad student with a lopsided smile, unruly curly hair, and a dimple. Our gazes locked, and well…he had me before hello.

“I don’t like this,” Sophia says, her tone somber.

“Ryan expects me to do it.” My tone is a little colder than I intend, but he’s my boss. She’s not. And if she were completely against it, she would’ve never brought me in.

“Doesn’t mean I like it.”

In the CIA, we learn to do plenty that we don’t like.

“He has on-site security. This isn’t a risk-free op.” Sophia’s doubling down, but I can, too.

“He won’t hurt me.” I understand her fear, but he won’t.

“If he did, he’d never be caught. Not with his wealth. That kind of awareness can go to a man’s head. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

I nod at Sophia, knowing her concern comes from a place of professional assessment and friendship. “I’ll be careful,” I promise, but there’s a part of me that knows entering Dorian’s world again is like stepping into quicksand—familiar and dangerous all at once. But there’s another voice, too, quieter but just as insistent, reminding me of that lopsided smile in an Oxford pub, and wondering if I’m really going there to investigate him… or to face what I left behind. Either way, I’m already crossing a threshold I swore I never would again.

CHAPTER3

DORIAN MOORE

A fog clouds my sleep-deprived mind, blurring the numbers before me. Outside, a white contrail mocks me as it bisects the crisp blue Denver sky high above the Rocky Mountains. What I wouldn’t give to be the pilot of that jet. No phone calls, no reports, no meetings. Solitude and clear blue skies.

“Mr. Moore?”

My assistant stands three feet from my desk. His blue-and-black-striped tie hangs too far left, exposing the line of buttons on his Oxford. My gaze locks on the one undone button.

“What is it, Jay?”

“Mr. Cromwell would like to see you if you have a minute. I know you reserved this time, but I told him I’d check.”

Geoffrey Cromwell, my father’s personal financial advisor, strides in, pretending to be unaware that my assistant planned to ask for permission to meet.

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