Chapter 1 - Seven Minutes, One Slice of Pecan Pie, and the Six Words That Destroyed My New IdentityRichmond's most feared mafia boss offered me $500 to pretend I was hopelessly in love with him because the woman who'd cheated on him had just walked into the restaurant with the man who betrayed him.
I refused his money and agreed to seven ridiculous minutes for a slice of pecan pie.
Before our fake date was over, one waitress said my name and revealed that Ethan Cole wasn't the only person at that table hiding something.
My name is Hannah.
At least, Hannah was the name I had been using for eleven months.
And when Ethan first stopped me inside Bellamy's Grill, I thought he'd lost his mind.
“Five hundred dollars,” he said calmly. “Sit with me and pretend you're in love with me.”
I stared at him.
Everyone in Richmond knew Ethan Cole.
Expensive suits.
Quiet power.
Dangerous connections.
The kind of man other dangerous men didn't interrupt.
“Why?”
His eyes shifted across the restaurant.
I followed them.
A beautiful blonde woman stood beside a tall man in a navy jacket, watching Ethan with unmistakable satisfaction.
I understood immediately.
“Your ex?”
“I'm showing her I've moved on.”
“By renting a girlfriend?”
His jaw tightened.
“For seven minutes.”
“Why seven?”
A pause.
“I panicked.”
That almost made me laugh.
Almost.
Then I noticed something beneath his controlled expression.
Pain.
Three months earlier, Lauren Pierce had apparently been his fiancée.
Ethan had trusted her enough to plan a wedding, until he arrived at her apartment one afternoon and found Grant Mercer there.
Barefoot.
Wearing Ethan's old sweatshirt.
Grant wasn't some stranger.
He was Ethan's friend.
His associate.
A man who knew his secrets and sat at his table.
Ethan walked away from both of them and created rules afterward.
No relationships.
No second chances.
No woman close enough to hurt him again.
I didn't know any of that yet.
I only knew the intimidating man across from me suddenly looked painfully human.
“Keep your $500,” I said.
He frowned.
“But I'll take pie.”
“What?”
“Pecan. With ice cream.”
For the first time, Ethan smiled.
“Deal.”
I sat down.
“If she approaches us, I'm telling her we met at a clown convention.”
He stared at me.
Then Ethan Cole actually laughed.
Lauren noticed.
But strangely, Ethan stopped watching her.
His attention stayed on me.
“So,” I said, opening the menu, “what's your name, fake boyfriend?”
“Ethan.”
“Hannah.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“I've had better introductions.”
A server suddenly approached.
She looked at me and froze.
“Hannah?”
My stomach tightened.
Her face had lost its color.
Ethan noticed immediately.
“What is it?”
The waitress didn't answer him.
She leaned toward me.
Her name tag said MAYA.
I knew her.
That was the problem.
Maya Torres and I had worked together two years earlier at a hotel in Norfolk.
Before Richmond.
Before Hannah.
Before I cut my hair.
Before I stopped using credit cards.
Before I learned to check rearview mirrors for the same vehicle twice.
Maya's eyes filled with horror.
Then she whispered the six words I had prayed nobody in Richmond would ever say.
“Grant still thinks you're dead, Elena.”
The restaurant disappeared.
Not literally.
The conversations continued.
Silverware touched porcelain.
Someone laughed near the bar.
A birthday candle flickered three tables away.
But my world became six words.
Grant.
Thinks.
You're.
Dead.
Elena.
Ethan's smile vanished.
His eyes slowly returned to mine.
Seven minutes earlier, I'd been a harmless stranger helping him hide his humiliation.
Now Richmond's most feared man was staring at me as if he'd realized something terrifying.
I hadn't accidentally walked into his life.
And whatever secret I'd been running from had just found me first.
“Who,” Ethan asked very softly, “is Elena?”
Maya stepped backward.
I stood so fast my chair scraped the floor.
“I have to go.”
Ethan caught my wrist.
Not hard.
That mattered.
“Let go.”
He did immediately.
Another thing that mattered.
I grabbed my purse.
Lauren was watching us now.
So was Grant.
And when I looked at him, everything inside me turned cold.
He hadn't changed much.
Same carefully trimmed dark hair.
Same expensive jacket.
Same relaxed posture.
Same smile that made strangers believe he was safe.
But I knew what that smile looked like when no one else was watching.
I knew what his voice sounded like when he stopped pretending.
Grant's eyes passed over me once.
Then returned.
His smile vanished.
He recognized me.
I ran.
“Hannah!”
Ethan followed.
I pushed through Bellamy's front doors into cold Virginia rain.
My shoes slipped on pavement.
I nearly fell.
A black sedan sat across the street.
Engine running.
My blood froze.
Not again.
I turned toward alley instead.
Bad decision.
Someone grabbed my shoulder.
I spun and swung my purse.
Ethan caught it against his arm.
“It's me.”
“Don't touch me!”
He stepped back immediately.
Rain soaked his suit.
“Fine.”
“Go inside.”
“No.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
His expression changed.
“Grant Mercer thinks you're dead.”
I looked toward restaurant windows.
Grant had disappeared.
That terrified me more than seeing him.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because people who know things about Grant get hurt.”
Ethan gave a humorless smile.
“He slept with my fiancée. I already dislike him.”
“This isn't about Lauren.”
That wiped smile away.
“What did he do?”
I heard tires.
Black sedan moved.
Slowly.
Toward alley entrance.
Ethan noticed.
He shifted between me and street.
“Is that car his?”
“I don't know.”
Lie.
I knew.
I had seen same model outside my apartment three nights earlier.
Ethan pulled out phone.
“Marcus. Bellamy's. Rear alley. Now.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You don't get to call armed men because I'm scared.”
“You're not scared.”
“What?”
“You're terrified.”
I hated him for noticing.
“There's a difference.”
“I know.”
Within seconds another vehicle turned corner.
Two men stepped out.
One was older, gray at temples, built like someone who had spent his adult life expecting trouble.
He looked at Ethan.
“Problem?”
Ethan looked at me.
“Apparently.”
I backed away.
“I don't need protection.”
The older man glanced at black sedan.
It accelerated away.
“Maybe not,” he said. “But somebody thinks you do.”
“Who are you?”
“Marcus Vale.”
Of course.
Ethan's security chief.
Former detective, if rumors were true.
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“I sit down for pie and somehow end up with Richmond's mafia security department.”
Ethan looked almost offended.
“Organized crime has terrible dental insurance.”
I stared.
Marcus coughed to hide laugh.
Even terrified, I almost smiled.
Then restaurant door opened.
Lauren stood beneath awning.
Grant wasn't beside her.
“Hannah?” she called.
I stiffened.
Lauren looked from me to Ethan.
Something strange crossed her face.
Not jealousy.
Fear.
She hurried toward us.
“Ethan, don't let Grant see her.”
Too late.
Ethan's entire body went still.
“You know her?”
Lauren stopped.
Rain darkened shoulders of her cream coat.
“I know who she is.”
My stomach dropped.
Ethan's voice became colder.
“Then start talking.”
Lauren looked at me.
“Her name isn't Hannah.”
“I figured that out.”
“It's Elena Ward.”
Marcus glanced at me.
I said nothing.
Lauren continued.
“She worked for Mercer Logistics.”
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
Grant's company.
“I was an accountant,” I said.
“Senior compliance analyst,” Lauren corrected.
“How do you know?”
Lauren looked ashamed.
“Because Grant told me.”
“When?”
No answer.
Ethan understood before I did.
“Before you slept with him?”
Lauren looked away.
That was answer.
Rain ran down Ethan's face.
“You knew Grant was involved with her before you betrayed me.”
“Ethan—”
“Was Elena your problem?”
Lauren's lips trembled.
“Grant told me she stole money.”
I laughed.
A bitter sound.
“Of course he did.”
“What happened?” Ethan asked.
I looked at him.
For eleven months, I had told no one.
Not landlord.
Not coworkers.
Not woman in apartment across hall who brought soup when I had flu.
No one.
Because truth was dangerous.
But Grant had seen me.
Running no longer bought safety.
So I told them.
“I found nineteen shell companies.”
Marcus immediately became alert.
“What kind?”
“Freight companies. Warehouses. Consulting firms. Most existed only on paper.”
Ethan's face changed.
He knew something.
I continued.
“Mercer Logistics was moving money through port contracts. Millions. Some shipments were deliberately misclassified.”
“What shipments?” Marcus asked.
“I never found out.”
“Drugs?” Ethan asked.
“I don't know.”
“Weapons?”
“I don't know.”
“People?”
My silence answered differently.
“I found passenger manifests attached to cargo records,” I said. “Names. Women. Mostly between eighteen and twenty-four.”
Lauren covered mouth.
“I thought it was smuggling at first. Then one of names appeared on missing-person database.”
Ethan's expression became deadly.
“I copied everything.”
Marcus asked, “Where?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone who knows becomes target.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“You're already target.”
“So are you now.”
“Grant already betrayed me.”
“This is different.”
“How?”
I looked at him.
“Sleeping with your fiancée hurt you.”
He flinched.
“This could bury him for life.”
Silence.
Maya emerged under awning.
She held my abandoned scarf.
“Elena.”
I turned.
“How did you know I was alive?”
“I saw you three months ago.”
“What?”
“At grocery store. You didn't see me.”
“Why didn't you say anything?”
Maya's eyes filled.
“Because after you disappeared, a man came to hotel asking questions. Then your apartment burned.”
Ethan looked sharply at me.
“You didn't mention fire.”
“I wasn't there.”
“Why did Grant think you died?”
I swallowed.
“Because there was a body.”
Lauren whispered, “Jesus.”
“My neighbor, Sophie.”
The name still hurt.
“She came into my apartment to feed my cat while I was out. Fire started twenty minutes later.”
Maya began crying.
“They identified her as you.”
“Dental records were delayed. By then I had already run.”
“Why not police?”
I looked at Ethan.
“Because the detective assigned to my original complaint called Grant fourteen minutes after I left station.”
Marcus cursed.
He understood.
Ethan looked toward street.
Then at Lauren.
“Where is Grant?”
She turned.
He was gone.
His car too.
Ethan pulled phone.
“Lock down my house.”
I grabbed his sleeve.
“No.”
He looked at my hand.
I released him.
“I am not going to your house.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't know you.”
“You know Grant.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He's dangerous.”
“So am I.”
“That isn't reassuring.”
Something flickered in his eyes.
Maybe respect.
“Fair.”
Marcus said, “Hotel?”
“No,” I answered.
“Police safe house?”
“No.”
Ethan looked frustrated.
“Do you reject everything?”
“Mostly men giving orders.”
“That's going to be inconvenient.”
“For you?”
“For both of us.”
I should have walked away.
Instead I looked through Bellamy's window.
Our pecan pie had arrived.
Untouched.
Vanilla ice cream melting slowly over crust.
Seven minutes.
That was all I had agreed to.
Seven ridiculous minutes pretending to love a stranger.
Now the stranger knew my real name.
His ex knew my past.
His former best friend knew I was alive.
And somewhere in Richmond, evidence capable of destroying Grant Mercer was waiting where only I could find it.
“Fine,” I said.
Ethan raised eyebrow.
“Fine what?”
“I'll tell you enough to keep you alive.”
“Generous.”
“But I make rules.”
“You're hiding from a murderer.”
“Yes.”
“And you want to make rules.”
“Yes.”
His mouth twitched.
“I'm listening.”
“No touching me without asking.”
“Done.”
“No taking my phone.”
“Fine.”
“No locking me anywhere.”
“Agreed.”
“No killing Grant.”
That one changed him.
He stared at me.
“You don't get to decide that.”
“Then I'm leaving.”
“Hannah—”
“Elena.”
First time I said real name aloud in almost year.
It felt like opening grave.
“My name is Elena.”
Ethan held my gaze.
Then nodded.
“Elena.”
Something inside me loosened.
“If we're doing this, we do it legally.”
Marcus looked skeptical.
Ethan looked almost amused.
“You're asking man with my reputation to trust police.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“I'm asking you to prove Grant wrong about you.”
“What did he say about me?”
“That you were exactly like him.”
The amusement vanished.
For a long moment, rain was only sound.
Then Ethan opened SUV door.
“You're going somewhere secure.”
I hesitated.
“Is that order?”
“No.”
He stepped aside.
“It's an invitation.”
“Still no $500?”
“Offer expired.”
“Pie?”
“We can get pie.”
“Pecan?”
“Elena.”
“I've had difficult evening.”
For second time that night, Ethan laughed.
I got into car.
He followed.
Marcus sat front.
As vehicle pulled away, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED DEAD.
Attached was photograph.
My apartment.
Taken from hallway.
Tonight.
Ethan read my face.
“What?”
I showed him.
He stared at image.
Then another message arrived.
This one wasn't from Grant.
It came from number I recognized instantly.
A number that had been disconnected eleven months ago.
Sophie's.
My dead neighbor.
Three words.
DON'T TRUST LAUREN.
I looked through rear window toward Bellamy's.
Lauren stood beneath awning watching us leave.
And suddenly I understood.
Grant wasn't the only person who had known I survived.
Someone had been protecting me.
May you like
Someone had been lying.
And the seven-minute fake date had just become the most dangerous relationship of my life.
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