Page 38 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
"What was your life there? Before you came back."
I hesitated. This felt dangerous, personal. But something about the evening, about the privacy of his backyard sanctuary, made me want to answer.
"It was quiet. I lived near the water, in a small rental house. I worked at a bookstore downtown, helped them with their social media and online sales. I read a lot. Took long walks on the beach."
"Sounds peaceful."
"It was. I'd forgotten how much I loved that—peace. Growing up here, there was always noise. Dad's business calls, charity events, social obligations. In Bar Harbor, I could disappear for hours and no one would notice."
"You always were good at disappearing. Even as a kid, you'd vanish whenever your parents had parties. I'd find you upstairs, reading in your room."
The memory surprised me. I'd forgotten he'd noticed that, that he'd sometimes sought me out during those endless adult gatherings.
"I hated those parties. All those people talking about money and property values and who was buying what. I wanted to be anywhere else."
"Where did you want to be?"
"In the stories I was reading. Or writing my own stories. I kept journals back then, filled them with characters who could go anywhere, do anything. They weren't trapped by expectations or family names or other people's disappointments."
Duncan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Do you still write?"
"Not much. Life got… complicated."
He waited for me to elaborate, but I couldn't. How could I tell him that life got complicated because of him, because of one night that changed everything?
"What about you?" I asked instead. "What did you want to be when you were twenty?"
"Successful. Respected. Powerful enough that no one could ever dismiss me again."
"Mission accomplished."
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Was it? I spent my twenties working eighteen-hour days, making connections, building a reputation. I thought if I could just prove myself, earn enough money, gain enough influence, I'd feel… satisfied. Fulfilled."
"And now?"
"Now I realize I became someone I barely recognize." His honesty startled me. This wasn't the confident, unshakeable man I worked for. This was someone vulnerable, someone questioning the choices that had defined his adult life.
"The scandal changed you," I said.
"It did. But not in the way people think. The public humiliation was brutal, yes. But what came after was worse. I threw myself into work, into building walls so high that no one could hurt me again. I thought I was protecting myself. Instead, I was just… existing."
I sat quietly with that for a moment, unsure of what to say next. Duncan was opening up to me in ways I felt nervous about. The sex was bad enough, but getting emotionally invested would destroy us both
"Ivy." My name sounded different in his voice tonight, softer and more intimate.
"This is a bad idea," I whispered, setting the coffee down. I wanted to run away and make sure my heart never got attached, but Duncan had other plans.
He reached for my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. His skin was warm, calloused from weekend projects around the house. I should've pulled away. Should've reminded him about professional boundaries and complicated histories and all the reasons this couldn't work.
Instead, I let him hold my hand.
"I never forgot that night," he said quietly. "Not the way you felt in my arms, not the way you looked at me afterward. I told myself it was a mistake, that we were both in vulnerable places. But I never forgot."
"Duncan…"
"I know. I know all the reasons we shouldn't do this. Your father, my age, the past. But I can't pretend I don't feel it when you're near me. Can't pretend I don't want to know who you've become in these four years."
He lifted our joined hands, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. The gesture was so gentle, so reverent, that my breath caught.
