“Colette.” I slip from Santiago’s grasp and go to hug my new friend. This woman I’ve only known for minutes but who has a warmth I’m not sure I’ve felt from anyone except my own sisters. “I’m so happy to see you,” I tell her.

One of the men clears his throat, and we draw apart. Santiago and Jackson are both watching us, and I realize Jackson must be around Santiago’s age, the difference in years between him and Colette about what it is between us. With blond hair and stark blue eyes, his expression is stern or at least appears so, and I remember the high heels he’d made Colette wear, knowing they were uncomfortable especially considering the pregnancy.

“Ivy,” Santiago says, and I realize my face reveals exactly what I’m thinking. He turns to Jackson. “Jackson,” he says by way of greeting. “What brings you here?”

Jackson nods to Santiago. “Your wife, actually.”

“My wife?” His eyebrows rise. “Well, sit down,” he says as the door opens, and Antonia enters with a tray of refreshments that she sets on the coffee table before leaving.

I sit on one side of Colette as Jackson takes the other. She smiles up at him warmly and slips one hand onto his thigh as he tucks his around the nape of her neck. She seems to lean into it, and it takes me back because the way he’s holding her isn’t what I expect. It’s not possessive like some animal needing to mark his territory. Well, it is, but it’s something else too. Tender. I expect Jackson to be a brute, a cold and insensitive man when it comes to his young, pregnant wife, but that’s not what I see. Not yet at least.

“Her shoes, actually,” Colette says and reaches for the bag beside her. “Ivy had lent them to me before dinner the night of the gala.”

“Thank you for that,” Jackson leans over to say to me. “Colette thinks I have expectations of her that I do not.” He and Colette exchange a private look.

“Well, isn’t that wonderful?” Santiago stands and checks his watch. I don’t know why he’s being so rude.

Jackson doesn’t miss the rudeness either. “It will be when you hear the rest of what I have to say.”

“Go on then. Don’t keep me in suspense,” Santiago deadpans, sitting down again and leaning back in his chair. He crosses his ankle over the opposite knee.

“As you know, I’m one of the advisors to The Tribunal.”

My heart drops to my stomach, and Colette closes her hand around mine like she feels this shift in me.

“And?” Santiago prods, unimpressed by his status, which I guess he already knew.

“Colette has been convinced your wife wouldn’t have done what she’s accused of and I’ve come to trust her intuition.”