I hesitated, but the idea of finally revealing my past to Riley brought with it a sense of relief. “I met Marty in a business finance class,” I began. “I was a Junior and he was a Senior. We flirted a little but it wasn’t until he was my TA the following year that we really hit it off.”

“Your TA, huh?” she teased. “Ms. Harvard Grad sleeping with the teacher, I almost don’t believe it.”

I shot her a wry side glance, but I had to admit that Riley knew how to make a difficult situation bearable.

“He was only a year older than me,” I said. “Not to mention gorgeous, smart, and completely charming. All of the girls in my class had a crush on him.” My stomach churned at the thought of Marty at the beginning of our relationship—the romantic dates, the small but sweet gestures, the intimate conversations. That version of him seemed so distant from the guy he turned into.

“So why exactly are you afraid of him? You practically fled the apartment the other night.”

“Things were great between us for the first few months. He seemed like a catch. But when the pressures of post-college life started getting to him he became jealous and possessive.” I swallowed a hard lump as I recalled the scathing names he called me, the minor but frightening ways he would grab me when I challenged him.

“I know that’s not healthy,” Riley said, cocking her eyebrow. “But it doesn’t exactly make him dangerous. What aren’t you telling me?”

I sighed and looked Riley in the eye, preparing to admit to her what I’d been hiding for so long. “Marty has borderline personality disorder, but I didn’t discover that until a year into our relationship. He could turn from charming to vicious in a matter of seconds. He would call me names if he thought I was flirting with another guy, sometimes he’d get aggressive—”

Riley threw the blanket from her shoulders, seemingly agitated. “Aggressive? Are you saying he hit you, Kristen?”

“No, he never hit me. But . . .” I held up my crooked pinky finger.

She reached for my hand frantically and squeezed it gently with her own. “Oh my god, Kristen. Why didn’t you tell someone?”

“He comes from a powerful family. I couldn’t tell anyone about it. Not even the police. So I left . . . changed my address, found a new job, and hoped he’d move on. But somehow he’s found me, and I’m not sure what he wants.”

“Well now I feel like a complete jerk for pushing you to date, I had no idea you were dealing with this.”

I smiled at Riley’s concern, feeling I had made the right decision by telling her. “How could you have known?”

She looked up at me and twisted her mouth as if she had something she wanted to say but was afraid to say it.

“You can ask me anything, Riley. It’s fine.”

“How did you deal with it? It must have been scary . . . being with someone who could turn on you at any second.”

Silence settled over us as I considered her question. Had I dealt with it? I’d been pretty much avoiding the thought of Marty since I left Boston and even now, with the possibility of him in my city, I was still trying to push the memory of my relationship with him from my mind.

“For a long time I tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal, like maybe it was a phase. But after the pinky incident I left as fast as I could and I guess I haven’t really dealt with it, not until now.”

“Have you told Vincent?”

“Yeah, and then he hauled me out to the middle of nowhere to buy me mace and a taser.”

“A taser?” Her eyebrows shot up. “You’ll definitely have to show me that.”

“Don’t you think it’s overkill?”

A seriousness settled over Riley’s face as she scooted closer to me. “This guy could come back, Vincent just wants you to be safe. And so do I.”

“Then maybe he shouldn’t have jetted off to Brazil.” I felt my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment as I realized how childish I sounded.

“Isn’t he just going for business?”

“Cape Town was business, too, but you saw him at the bar . . . women flock to him.” I tried not to picture bikini clad models latching onto Vincent’s arm and feeding him drinks all night.

“But Vincent doesn’t flock to other women. Kristen, the guy bought you a taser.”

I laughed as my hand instinctively wandered to the necklace he’d put on me earlier that day. Riley was right. I’d never seen Vincent so attentive or concerned as he was when we were at the army surplus store—it felt good to be with someone who cared about my safety instead of threatening it.

“Will you show me how to use this?” I said, eyeing the necklace between my fingers.

“That’s the mace?”

“He got you one, too.” I walked over to the dining room table and pulled the extra mace cartridges from the bag as well as the necklace we had picked out for Riley, a star shaped pendant dangling from the end.

“This is definitely more convenient than that bulky brick I’ve been carrying around in my purse!” she said as I handed her the necklace.

We left the living room and stepped out onto the balcony so we wouldn’t chance inhaling the spray. After Riley showed me how to insert the cartridge and where to press in order to set it off, we practiced shooting mace at a potted plant. After a dozen or so attempts, we both felt confident in our accuracy and quickdraw. We also felt sorry for the plant.

Although the practice was a much needed tension reliever, I couldn’t believe I was in this position again, only this time I was actually preparing for Marty’s possible attack instead of ignoring it.

“Are you okay?” Riley asked, seemingly sensing my unease.

“I just can’t believe this is happening.” I looked out over the balcony at the glinting lights of the city in the distance, wondering if Marty was still out there.

“We’re doing this to make sure he doesn’t hurt you again.” She put her hand on my shoulder and I nodded, acknowledging her concern. “But we probably shouldn’t test out the taser.” She laughed.

I smirked. “We wouldn’t want you couch-ridden again.”

“Speaking of couch-ridden, I should probably rest.”

“Me, too,” I said as I realized how exhausted I was. “It’s been the longest day.”

We went inside and each disappeared into our rooms. I took off the necklace and placed it on my bedside table, still nervous that I might accidentally set it off in my sleep, and hid the taser in my closet. I would tackle that one another day.

As I climbed into bed, I found myself thinking of Vincent’s trip to Brazil and realized that I no longer felt so nervous about it. I couldn’t deny that he was attractive and that other women would always respond to that. But for the first time since Marty showed up I didn’t feel so scared. In fact, I felt in control.

Chapter Three

I tried not to let my nerves get the best of me when I got to work the next day. I wasn’t sure what my meeting with Carl was for, only that he wanted me in his office at noon. The morning went slowly, my anticipation of the meeting causing me to look at the clock every few minutes. The dragging time made it hard to push thoughts of Vincent’s business trip from my mind. I hadn’t heard from him since he left. I knew he was busy but he could’ve at least managed a text.

Although I had Vincent to thank for the greater sense of security I now felt with my mace and taser on hand, I couldn’t shake the lingering sense of jealousy I felt every time I thought of the launch party. Bikini clad models would no doubt be there to show off the new surfboard, and there would certainly be no shortage of alcohol. Vincent said it himself—he wasn’t used to taking things slow, and he definitely wasn’t used to commitment, how could I compete with models when I was on an entirely different continent?

I tried to distract myself with work—skimming the accounts of a few potential clients and answering emails throughout the morning. When it was finally noon I made my way to Carl’s office, stopping in the bathroom to make sure I looked presentable, before giving a light knock on the door. A low voice called from behind it, telling me to come in.

I opened the door and stepped into his office. It was almost as impressive as Vincent’s—a view of the Hudson River Park served as a stunning backdrop for plush leather office chairs, a glossy hardwood desk, and chrome fixtures that gave the space a classic but contemporary touch. Carl was poised over an open file, a silver pen flicking quickly across the pages inside.

“Good afternoon Mr. Stansworth.”

Carl immediately looked up from his work and gave me a smile, a refreshing change from Richard, who could barely tear his eyes from his phone. His remaining gray hairs were neatly combed. Although he had crow’s feet beneath his eyes, he was sprightly and kept in good health. “Afternoon Kristen, why don’t you take a seat?”

I sank into the black cushioned chair across from his desk, the nervous energy I had worked up earlier hitting me full force as I contemplated why Carl had called the meeting. Had Richard complained about my performance? Did Carl know about me and Vincent? I’d never forgive myself if I’d let an attraction ruin my career.

“You’re probably wondering why I’ve asked you into my office this afternoon,” he said as he carefully capped his pen and set it aside, focusing his attention on me.

I swallowed and tried not to betray my panic as I answered him. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, I’d like to start off by saying that you’ve done good work on the Sorenson account.” A warm smile spread across his face as he spoke. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized that I wasn’t going to be demoted or, worse, fired for dating a client. “We knew he would be difficult to land, but you did it.”

The nervous energy I had been feeling earlier began to dissipate with Carl’s encouraging words. It felt good to be recognized for the work I’d done, especially without the assumptions that my “feminine allure” had anything to do with it. Still, Richard was integral in researching Vincent and formulating our strategy for our first presentation—I really couldn’t have done it without his help. “Thank you,” I said. “But Richard did a lot of work on that account, too. I can’t take all the credit.”