But it was anything but great. So he’d spoken to Alex, and now she was the enemy. Then Kent saw Juliet and froze, a look of horror on his face until he smoothed it out. He said, “Juliet, ah, I don’t understand. Why are you here in New York? Do you have a performance at Carnegie I didn’t hear about? Why are you with Mia?”

“Hello, Kent,” Juliet said. “No, I’m not here to perform. It’s been a long time. You’re looking well.” She waved her hand at the walls. “You’re still playing with your sword. And I see you’re still surrounded by your gaming toys.”

“They’re bloody collectibles, worth a mint!”

Mia shook her head at him and said, her voice filled with censure and disappointment, just like Mrs. Marvin, one of her third-grade teachers, “Sure they are, Kent. The sword, everything in here—in a grown man’s power office—is make-believe, a teenage boy’s fantasy. Aren’t you a little old to be slashing around that ridiculous sword?”

Kent slowly laid the sword against his desk, to give himself time to think. When he finally looked at Juliet, he said, “Why are you here?”

“I’m here, Kent, to right past wrongs.”

“What past wrongs? What is going on here? Mia?”

Mia gave him a blazing smile. “I’m Juliet’s backup.”

“Backup for what?”

But he knew, Mia saw it in his eyes. He was afraid.

Juliet said in a clear, steady voice, “Mia knows you and Alex roofied and raped me two years ago, both of you. I believe I know why Alex raped me. He was furious when I told him I wouldn’t be a politician’s wife, that I didn’t want to spend my life being in a fishbowl with him, the brunt of the daily comments and conjecture.

“But you, Kent—why did you rape me? I thought you liked me, maybe even respected me. And here I was your best friend’s fiancée. But I guess I was wrong. To be honest, I always wondered why you were always hanging around, like you were tethered to Alex’s side. Did Alex invite you to have at it, to humiliate me, and you simply did as he told you, like always? Did you enjoy it, Kent? Did you enjoy raping me?”

Kent stood still, tall and stiff, then sat down at his desk, clasped his hands in front of him on the desktop. When he looked up at them, he looked bewildered, hurt, and confused. It was well done. He said in a stern patriarchal voice, exactly like his father’s, if he’d only known, “Juliet, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. That’s all nonsense, and you know it. The breakup with Alex . . . well, you know the two of you were like oil and water, not meant for each other. Everyone knew it.