Vin walked off in the opposite direction to the elevator, and when its doors opened wide for him, he stepped in and turned around. Jim was almost to the exit, his stride closing the distance quickly.

Vin blocked the elevator doors from shutting and called out, “I’m going to break up with Devina.”

Jim stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Good. But go easy on her. She’s in love with you.”

“She certainly makes it appear that way.” But underneath all that “loving” exterior, there was something hollow about her—and it had been part of the reason he’d wanted her around: He’d rather have dealt with the calculation, because self-interest he trusted more than love.

Not anymore. Shifts were occurring in him, shifts he could no more control than he could stop the imposition of those visions. On a usual day, he was ninety-nine percent about business. In the past twenty-four hours? He was pulling a fifty percent, if that: His mind had been consumed with other, more important things…things that had a lot to do with Marie-Terese.

“I’ll keep you posted,” he told Jim.

“You do that.”

Vin let the doors close, and hit the button for his floor. He had to talk to Devina, and he needed to get that conversation over with. It wasn’t only the fair thing to do…he had some sense of urgency about it that had nothing to do with the fact that he wasn’t looking forward to hurting her.

That horrible dream was still with him…like it had stained his brain permanently.

On the twenty-eighth floor, the elevator let out a discreet bing, and he stepped out and went up to his door. As he opened the way into the duplex, Devina rushed down the stairs, a huge smile on her face.

“Look what I found while I was tidying your study.” She extended her open palms, holding out the Reinhardt’s box. “Oh, Vin! It’s perfect!”

She rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck, her perfume choking him even more than her hold did. As she went on about how she shouldn’t have opened it but couldn’t help herself, and how it even fit her finger, Vin closed his eyes and saw echoes of the nightmare he’d had.

A conviction lit off in the center of his chest, one that was as undeniable as his own reflection in a mirror.

She was not who she said she was.

CHAPTER
20

When Jim got into the green Camry, he leaned over and extended his hand. “Jim Heron. Figured we might as well introduce ourselves.”

“Marie-Terese.”

The woman’s smile was slight, but warm, and as he waited for a last name, he had a feeling one wasn’t coming.

“Thanks for the ride back,” he said.

“Not a problem. How’s Vin doing?”