Ava leaned forward just enough so that only he and Bianca could hear her.
“Exactly what you taught me.”
Ryan’s nostrils flared.
Bianca looked back and forth between them.
For the first time that evening, she wasn’t smiling.
Ava sat up.
Then she turned to leave.
That’s when Ryan made his mistake.
He grabbed her wrist.
Not hard enough to cause bruises.
It’s difficult to remind him.
Four years’ worth of reminders in a single click.
Ava lowered her eyes to her fingers caressing her skin.
The restaurant froze again.
Ryan realized too late that the man on the phone was still filming.
His grip loosened.
Ava did not shoot her leg.
She didn’t make a scene.
She simply looked at him and said, “Take your hand off me.”
Ryan freed her.
But Bianca, desperate to get the room back, laughed.
It was a clear, crisp sound.
“Oh my God,” she said. “Are we all supposed to be scared because she brought a file?”
Ava turned around.
Bianca tilted her head. “Ryan told me you used to do this. Little files. Little notes. Little detective games. It’s kind of sad, honestly.”
Ryan’s gaze fell upon Bianca.
Stop talking.
But Bianca had savored the champagne and the victory.
She missed it.
Ava looked at the young woman who had helped destroy her marriage and saw the truth clearly.
Bianca was not the mastermind behind the operation.
She was the mirror Ryan had bought to admire himself in.
Dear.
Bright.
Easily replaceable.
But not innocent.
