A Kiss For Three

chapter 16

The pen slipped from my mouth and hit the floor with a dull clatter. For a long moment, I couldn’t move. My brain refused to catch up with what my eyes were seeing.

Steve Wallen.

He stood there in the doorway like a ghost I never wanted to believe in again—except this one was annoyingly real, annoyingly smirking, and annoyingly still breathing.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Iris,” he said, sounding pleased with himself as he strolled past me like he still owned the room.

My body moved before my thoughts did—I slammed the door so hard the glass rattled. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Steve dropped onto my couch like it was his, letting out a lazy sigh. “Relax, sweetheart. Just visiting an old friend.”

I crossed my arms. “We’re not friends.”

He chuckled, glancing around my office like he was cataloging every inch of it. “Heard you’re still playing detective. Though the story’s changed, huh? Catching cheating husbands now? That’s rich.”

My jaw tightened. “Guess I became the person I needed back then.”

He laughed like I’d just told a joke, tipping his head back. “That’s cute. Always knew you’d turn your trauma into a career move.”

I wanted to punch him—right in that smug mouth, the one I used to kiss before I learned what a liar looks like up close. But I didn’t. I just stood there, cold, still. “What are you doing here, Steve?”

He stretched his legs out, crossing one ankle over the other. “Business, mostly. Spain’s been good to me. My girlfriend’s running a little art gallery there, actually. But I figured, hey, time for a change of scenery.”

“So you came here to rub it in my face?”

He smirked. “No, Iris. I came because my business expanded. Opened my own detective agency uptown. Clients are pouring in. It’s nice—being your own boss. You should try it sometime.”

My nails dug into my palms. “You’re unbelievable.”

“That’s what you used to say in bed,” he said, grinning wider.

“Get out,” I snapped, pointing to the door.

“Come on, no need to be rude—”

“I said out.”

There was ice in my tone, and for once, it worked. Steve laughed, but it was thinner now, more careful. He got to his feet, straightening his jacket.

“I’ll see you again soon, Iris. Not like I’m going anywhere anymore, you know?”

He winked before walking out, closing the door behind him.

The silence that followed was unbearable. I stood there, breathing hard, every nerve buzzing with old anger and fresh disgust. Then I kicked the nearest chair. It tipped over with a satisfying crash.

“Perfect,” I muttered, staring at the mess. “Just perfect.”

Hours later, I was sitting in the lobby, pretending to focus on paperwork. I couldn’t stop replaying the scene—his grin, his arrogance, his voice. It was like my mind wanted to torture itself. I wondered what his new girlfriend looked like. Blonde? Younger? Did she know what kind of man he really was?

I hated that I even cared.

I was halfway through rereading the same document for the third time when Daniel showed up, coat slung over his arm and that usual half-grin plastered across his face. He took one look at me and stopped.

“Whoa there. You look like you’re about to kill someone.”

I glanced up, deadpan. “Do you take commissions as a hitman?”

He laughed. “Not exactly my field of work. Yet.”

“Shame,” I muttered. “Could’ve used a partner.”

He raised an eyebrow and slid into the seat across from me. “All right, spill it. What happened?”

“Steve happened.”

His expression dropped instantly. “You’re joking.”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s back. Moved to New York. Claims he’s got his own agency now.”

Daniel groaned. “God, I always hated that bastard. I’ve known you for, what—ten years? And I had to put up with him for the first few of them. Now it’s all over again?”

“It’s not all over again,” I bit out. “I despise him.”

Daniel leaned back, crossing his arms. “Sure. But he didn’t just show up for nostalgia’s sake, Iris. Guys like him? They never come without an angle.”

I frowned. “What are you implying?”

“I’m implying that he’s not here just to brag about his little Spanish vacation. He wants something.”

“Like what?”

Daniel shrugged. “Power. Attention. You, maybe.”

My eyes narrowed. “He’s not getting any of that.”

Daniel’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Then hit him where it hurts.”

“How?”

He grinned. “You’ve got your little entourage now, don’t you? Your ‘friends.’ Use them.”

I blinked. “Adrian and Nico?”

He nodded. “Exactly. You’ve got two very public, very handsome men circling you, and if your ex really is as smug as you say, watching you with them would drive him insane. Why not put on a show?”

“Daniel, that’s—” I started, ready to shut him down. But my words died halfway out of my mouth.

Because as much as I wanted to dismiss it, the idea hooked itself deep inside me. Maybe it was revenge. Maybe it was survival. Maybe it was just temptation wrapped in opportunity.

He caught the flicker in my expression and grinned. “Don’t act like you’re not considering it.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “You’re infuriating.”

“And right,” he added cheerfully, standing up. “You don’t have to do anything drastic. Just… let him see you. Let him wonder how it feels to lose the upper hand for once.”

He adjusted his scarf and started toward the elevator.

“Daniel,” I called after him.

He glanced back. “Yeah?”

“If this blows up in my face—”

“Then at least you’ll look great while it happens.” He winked and disappeared inside the elevator.

I leaned back in my seat, staring at my reflection in the polished glass wall. My pulse wouldn’t settle.

Use them. The thought circled me like a dare.

Later that night, I found myself on the rooftop again, the city sprawled in gold and silence. Adrian leaned against the railing, eyes glinting in the light. Nico sat cross-legged nearby, sketchbook open on his lap, his gaze flicking to me every few seconds.

“Rough day?” Adrian asked softly.

“You could say that.”

Nico closed his book. “You didn’t look rough. You looked dangerous.”

Their eyes caught mine in turn, the air thick with everything we still hadn’t said. Daniel’s words echoed again in my head. Put on a show.

But I couldn’t tell who it would have been for—Steve… or me.