POV: Rosalind
I met Theo at the riverside café in the afternoon, sitting where we could see the entrance.
Old habit. Ten years of this and we'd learned to be careful—always facing the door, always with an exit strategy, always in places public enough to look innocent but quiet enough to actually talk. The café was half-empty, the lunch crowd gone, the dinner rush still hours away. Perfect.
Theo was already there when I arrived, nursing an espresso at a corner table. He stood when he saw me, kissed my cheek like an old friend would. We were good at this performance. We'd had a decade to perfect it.
I slid into the chair across from him, set my bag down. Ordered tea I wouldn't drink. The server left, and Theo's hand found mine under the table—warm, solid, real. His thumb traced my knuckles.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.
"Define alright."
"Rosalind."
I looked at him then. Really looked. Theo at fifty was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever ruined. Silver threading through dark hair, lines around his eyes that deepened when he smiled, which he wasn't doing now. He was studying me the way he always did—like I was a puzzle he could solve if he just looked hard enough.
"Is Daniel in trouble?" he asked directly.
The question landed heavy between us. I pulled my hand back, wrapped both around my teacup that hadn't arrived yet. Old nervous habit.
"Daniel insists everything is under control," I said.
"But you don't believe him."
"No. I don't."
Theo leaned back, jaw tight. "How bad?"
"I don't know. That's the problem." I glanced around—still no one close enough to hear us. "He's using the winery for something. Has been for years, apparently. Some kind of cleanup operation for people with problems they can't solve legally."
"Christ, Rosalind."
"He says he was protecting me. Keeping me separate from it."
"Protecting you or protecting himself?"
Fair question. "Both, probably."
The tea arrived. I stared at it, watched steam curl off the surface. Theo's coffee sat forgotten, going cold.
"People like Daniel don't protect anyone but themselves," Theo said carefully. "They just get very good at making control look like care."
"You don't know him."
"I know men like him. I've worked for men like him." Theo's voice dropped lower. "And I know what happens when they start saying everything's fine. It usually means it's already too late."
I felt something cold settle in my chest. "What do you mean?"
"Long-term pressure. Denial. The belief that if you just keep all the plates spinning, nothing will crash." He paused. "Until something does crash. And then everyone nearby gets hurt."
"He said everything he does is for Luca."
"Of course he did. It's the perfect shield." Theo leaned forward. "Fear versus responsibility, Rosalind. What's the difference?"
"I don't know. You tell me."
"Fear is what you feel when you realize you've lost control. Responsibility is what you claim when you want people to stop asking questions." His eyes held mine. "Which one is Daniel operating from right now?"
I thought about last night. The phone call. The way Daniel's hands had trembled for just a second before he locked it down. The fear in his eyes that he couldn't quite hide.
"Both," I said quietly.
"Then you need to decide something." Theo's hand found mine again under the table, squeezed hard. "If you had to choose—if it came down to it—who would you protect first?"
The question hung there like smoke. Heavy. Unavoidable.
"That's not fair," I said.
"Life's not fair. Answer the question."
"Luca. Always Luca."
"Even if protecting him meant not protecting Daniel?"
"Yes."
"Even if it meant not protecting me?"
I looked at him. At this man I'd loved for ten years in the spaces between my real life. This man who knew things about me Daniel had never bothered to learn. Who'd held me through panic attacks and bad days and the slow realization that I'd married the wrong person at twenty and couldn't figure out how to unmake that choice at forty-two.
"Yes," I said. "Even then."
Theo nodded slowly, like I'd just confirmed something he'd suspected. "Good. That's good."
"Why does that feel like a warning?"
"Because it is." He pulled his hand back, wrapped both around his cold coffee. "Don't bring Luca to the winery for a while."
My stomach dropped. "What?"
"Just don't. Keep him away."
"Theo—"
"I can't explain why. Not yet. But trust me on this." His eyes were serious, dark. "Whatever Daniel's involved in, it's bigger than late-night phone calls and secret meetings. And if Luca's been asking to be involved, that means Daniel's considering it. Which means Luca's about to step into something he won't be able to step out of."
"You're scaring me."
"Good. Be scared. Be smart." Theo stood, dropped cash on the table for both of us. "I have to go."
"Wait—"
"Keep him away from the winery, Rosalind. Please."
Then he was gone, weaving through tables toward the exit, and I sat there with cold tea and a warning I didn't understand and the weight of ten years of secrets pressing down on my chest like stones.
Don't bring Luca to the winery for a while.
Without explaining why.