Page 39 of Blind Prophet

“You’re not with the CIA anymore.”

I twist the lid, avoiding his gaze in an attempt to conceal my surprise that he has that information.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t keep track of you?”

CHAPTER9

DORIAN

What are you up to, Caroline?

Her cheeks flush, and her astute nose tilts upwards slightly. I ache to pull her against me, to push my nose into her hair and learn if she’s changed her shampoo or perfume—the hell with her scent. I want to hold her again.

Don’t be a loser.

Is that my father’s voice, or mine? After forty years of Halston Moore’s particular brand of tough love, sometimes it’s hard to tell where his ruthless pragmatism ends and mine begins. The old man would say I’m being weak, letting her affect me like this.

“You’re my wife. You had to know I’d keep up with you.”

“Have an employee on it, do you? An assistant? A team?”

The sharp tone is new. She’s stronger. More demanding. She’s become a better person without me in her life. Healthier. “Who was that man at the door?”

Who is this determined woman? What’s driving her? In our world of calculated moves and strategic plays, nobody shows up without an agenda. She left me—walked away from the wealth, the influence, all of it. That kind of conviction always gave her power. Made her different from the others. Independent.

“Jesus, Dorian, are you going to answer any of my questions?”

“Sorry.” I blink, snapping myself out of my head. “One of my father’s employees.”

“Security?”

“No.”

Geoffrey’s definitely not security. I wonder how long it will be before facial recognition identifies Caroline, and Geoffrey figures out who she is. Perhaps security already identified her, and that’s why Geoffrey showed up at my door, eager to send her on her way.

Didn’t he meet her? Maybe not. She met withmyfinancial advisor, not Geoffrey. The sixty-something-year-old man doesn’t strike me as the type to read Page Six and the like. He’s the guy you want on your team when making stock picks, not on a pop culture trivia night.

I don’t remember exactly when Geoffrey became an integral part of my father’s life. By the time Dad introduced me to Geoffrey, he’d been working with him for a long time, and I hadn’t yet entered the family business. I was busy rebelling against the Moore legacy, building satellite prototypes in Oxford’s engineering lab while my father’s empire waited. Geoffrey was already there when I finally stepped into Bedrock, wearing suits that cost more than my first research grant.

I didn’t expect Geoffrey to move to Colorado with us, but Dad is his only client, and he might be Dad’s only true friend.

“Are you planning to fly me back to Denver?”

Caroline’s annoyed. As she should be. It’s too easy to get lost in my head.

“I said I would.” I rub my temple, and the pain intensifies. The light brightens.Fuck.

“That man mentioned me leaving today.”

She listened, did she?

“Tomorrow morning.” She avoids my gaze. “As planned. We have things to discuss. Don’t you think?” The words come out with the same careful neutrality I use in hostile takeover negotiations. Ironic—that’s essentially what this is. A corporate restructuring of the heart.

Those unforgettable blue eyes widen. Incredulous. And angry.

What is this anger? Time mellowed my anger. Why hasn’t it done the same to hers?

“We can’t fly back this afternoon. Winds are picking up. It’s inadvisable.” It’s a lie. A cold front is moving in, but the expected winds wouldn’t prevent the helicopter from flying. But she won’t push it. She’s a nervous flier.

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