Playing With Fire. Rebecca Hunter

said to him eleven years ago, but whatever it was had made him leave her behind. Her father had simply told her that he had made Simon a financial offer, and he didn’t choose Marianna. No discussion, not then, not ever. She had only seen Simon once after that, and he didn’t deny her father’s version.

      That’s one way of saying it was all he had replied, his scowl darkening.

      Not an admission, not a denial. But his actions spoke louder: he’d gotten the hell out of Miami.

       And now, eleven years later, he just shows up?

      Marianna took a deep breath and splashed water over her eyes. Then, slowly, she walked back to the kitchen.

      The empty kitchen.

      “Simon?”

      The words echoed off the floors and the shiny countertops, mocking her.

      “Simon?”

      Nothing. She crossed the kitchen to a notepad on the counter. On the top of the first page, a handwritten note was left in that scrawl she’d never forgotten.

       Call your lawyer and make a new plan. I’m taking care of security.

      That was all.

      “Damn you, Simon Rodriguez,” Marianna yelled out to no one.