A Kiss For Three

chapter 13

The day moved like a bruise—slow to fade, sore when touched.

I spent it drowning in thoughts I couldn’t silence, feelings I couldn’t dissect. My head was a storm; my body was a cage that had forgotten how to rest. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Adrian’s face under the streetlight, the calm in his voice when he told me not to base my path on fear. Every time I opened them, I wanted to curse him for it.

Because fear was what built me. It was what kept me alive. Men broke things. I documented the cracks. That had been my creed, my religion, my survival. Men lied, cheated, destroyed. I made a living exposing it. And I was right, always right—until they came along.

Adrian and Nico.

The exception. The anomaly. The glitch in the system I’d built to protect myself. The more time I spent thinking about them, the less sense my rules made. They didn’t play the same game the others did. They didn’t treat me like bait or trophy or distraction. They looked at me like I was human, and that was what terrified me most.

My trust had been broken long before them—by a man who called himself my partner, both in life and in work. Another detective who taught me that loyalty was a myth and that betrayal wore a wedding ring. He left me with nothing but cynicism and a bank of fury to build a career out of.

Helping wives find proof. Selling the truth I never got for myself. That was my justice. But with Adrian and Nico… I was starting to wonder if the cracks I’d been documenting all these years were my own.

I sat in the lobby of the building where I rented my office—some cold corporate paradise of glass and steel. My laptop bag sat untouched at my feet. I was too tired to go upstairs, too wired to go home. The city hummed through the floor, muffled by marble and elevator music.

Daniel found me like he always did—uninvited, unbothered, impossible to ignore.

He dropped into the chair across from me, slouched back, and eyed me with lazy amusement.

“So… what the hell happened between you and Adrian Cole today? I thought he was your target. Now he’s, what, your coffee buddy?”

I grunted, too lost in my own head. “Yeah… I thought so too.”

He arched an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like the woman who used to say ‘I eat liars for breakfast.’ What’s going on?”

I stared at the lobby chandelier for too long before answering. “For the first time in years, I’m hesitant. I’m the one who usually strikes first, Daniel. Quick, precise, no hesitation. But now—” I dragged a hand down my face. “Now I’m standing between two fires, and every day I feel closer to burning.”

He whistled low. “You’re saying this like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is a bad thing.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So let me get this straight. You, Iris Lowell—the woman who doesn’t blink when chasing down billionaires with god complexes—finally gets a chance to feel something that might resemble happiness, and your first instinct is to run?”

I glared at him. “You make it sound stupid.”

He grinned. “Because it is. You’re missing out.”

“I don’t trust men,” I snapped.

Daniel smirked. “Well, I’m a man.”

I met his gaze without blinking. “Who says I trust you?”

He put a hand dramatically over his heart. “Ouch. That one hurt. You know what, I’m wounded. I’m not helping you anymore. I hold grudges.”

“Good,” I muttered. “Maybe I’ll finally get some quiet.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re not joking, huh?”

I exhaled, heavy. “No. I’m really not. I’m in a mess, Daniel. For once, I don’t know which side I’m on. The one that’s supposed to pay me—or the one that makes me forget why I even took the job.”

He watched me, his smirk softening into something dangerously close to concern. “You know what your problem is?”

“I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.”

“You’re like this sad little munchkin all the time.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning lazily again. “All gloom and thunderclouds, waiting for the next betrayal so you can say, ‘See? I was right.’ You’ve spent years proving the world wrong, but when something goes right, you freeze. You want happiness? Go for it, Iris. For once in your damn life, just go for it.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already standing.

“Don’t overthink it. You’ll ruin it.”

And before I could stop him, he was gone, leaving only the echo of his laughter bouncing off the marble floors.

I didn’t chase after him. I didn’t even move—I just sat there, arms folded, replaying his words like a broken record. Go for it. As if I could.

By the time I dragged myself upstairs, it was almost midnight. The office felt colder than usual. I made tea just to have something to hold. The quiet hum of the city seeped through the windows, mixing with the dull rhythm of my thoughts.

Then my phone buzzed. I picked it up without much hope. The screen lit up.

Nico: Adrian told me you’re being a sad puppy today. We’ll be at your place in 20.

A small, traitorous smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. I set the phone down, ran a hand through my hair, muttering, “Sad puppy, my ass.” But my heart wasn’t listening. For the first time all day, it beat a little faster.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock at my door. Too early.

I frowned, smoothed my shirt, brushed invisible lint from my sleeves, and my pulse skipped. I told myself it was just them—probably coming early to annoy me. When I opened the door, all the warmth drained from my body.

It wasn’t Adrian. It wasn’t Nico. Nico’s wife, Camille Astor stood there, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, posture sharp enough to cut glass. Her eyes were cool and precise, her expression unreadable.

“Good evening, Ms. Lowell,” she said softly, and every nerve in me went still.

Her tone was polite but her presence was not. I felt a lump forming in my throat.