A Kiss And A Warning

Vincent glanced at Tyler once more, then took her elbow and led her past the tables. Outside, cold air hit like a slap. The black sedan waited at the curb.

Emily yanked free. “What was that?”

Vincent faced her, calm as a locked door. “You were being made into a joke.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because I’ve been watching you for months,” he said. “And I’m done pretending I don’t want you.”

Emily’s breath caught in her throat. A bus hissed past on the avenue. Somewhere behind the glass, Bellini’s buzzed back to life.

Vincent’s phone lit up once in his hand, then again.

He looked at the screen, then at her.

“Get in the car,” he said. “Now.”

Linda was at the kitchen table in her robe, phone held out like she was presenting evidence in court.

“Emily Grace Bennett.”

Emily stopped in the hallway with one sock half on. “Morning to you too.”

Linda didn’t look up. “Don’t ‘morning’ me. Sit.”

Emily took the chair across from her and stared at the screen. Her own face filled it, grainy and bright from Bellini’s. Tyler’s mouth was open mid-sneer. Then Vincent stood.

Linda stabbed a finger at the video. “Who is that man?”

Emily rubbed her eyes. “A problem.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got.”

Linda made a noise in her throat and scrolled. The comments kept going. Mystery waitress. Boss’s girl. Somebody had already clipped the kiss three different ways. Emily reached for the phone, but Linda pulled it back.

“You’re not dying in my kitchen without coffee.”

“I’m not dying.”

“You look like you got hit by a bus.”

Emily turned toward the sink. “I got hit by Tyler.”

Linda snorted, then softened when Emily’s face didn’t. “Sit down and eat something.”

There was toast on a plate, butter melting into the edges, and a paper cup from the deli. Emily knew the smell before she even opened the lid.

“That’s mine,” she said.

“I know what you drink,” Linda said. “And I know you skip breakfast when you’re upset.”

Emily looked at her mother over the rim of the cup. “You say that like it’s new.”

“It’s new that half the city is watching your love life.”

“It is not my love life.”

Linda lifted her brows. “Then what do you call a man in a black suit kissing you in front of God and everybody?”

Emily opened her mouth, then shut it.