Chapter 22
Seeing Vivek again—smugly sipping his coffee without a care in the world, his wife by his side—sends me spiraling.
I drive my paddle into the still water, pointing the canoe toward shore, my muscles firing with every stroke.
He’s the reason I’m here. Stuck on this island when I should be working.
Helping my clients, solving problems, giving back.
He’s taken my life. My identity. The paddle cuts through the water.
I’d like to do the same to Vivek’s throat.
His house looms behind him, a wall of windows, sleek, cold, and heartless. A perfect reflection of the man.
He watches my approach and stiffens in his chair, his posture shifting from relaxed to alert. He mutters something to his wife and hands her a coffee cup. They exchange kisses on the cheek, and she dutifully heads inside. He doesn’t want her anywhere near me.
As we float toward shore, Olivia leans forward in her seat, staring at him like she’s the one who’s been wronged. “I’m gonna have a word with this dude.”
The canoe skids onto the narrow stretch of beach, the hull grinding against sand and rock.
I turn to Olivia and whisper, “No, I’ve got this. You stay here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I need to handle this myself.”
“Okay, but holler if you need backup.”
“I will.”
I stride up the stone steps nestled in the grass toward the slate outdoor patio, my gaze trained on Vivek. He watches me approach, his shining midnight eyes an unsettling blend of arrogance, amusement, and—for a split second—unease.
If I didn’t know what a snake he was, I might say he’s handsome.
He wears tailored white Lululemon joggers, a white designer quilted jacket, and sneakers so pristine they look like they’ve never touched pavement.
Salt-and-pepper whiskers dot his tanned face.
But the bruising under his eye and bandage on his forehead give away the man underneath the image.
He stands as I approach and puts one hand in his pocket and the other on his chin. His long, thin fingers stroke his whiskers, and his gold wedding ring glistens in the sun. The movement is slow and deliberate, like a sorcerer casting a spell.
“Good morning,” he says. His soothing voice carries the whisper of an Indian-British accent. He flashes a bright-white smile of oversize capped teeth. “My wife is inside refreshing our coffees, so you’ve got three minutes.”
My nails cut into my palms. The audacity. Giving me a time limit like I’m a fresh college grad interviewing for an analyst position.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Vivek?”
He squints and assesses me like I’m a rabid dog he’s just come across. “I might ask you the same thing.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He crosses his arms, standing taller to peer down on me, his six-foot-three frame bent over, neck hooked like a vulture.
“Well, when the partners informed me they were suspending me, I thought I would use that opportunity to take a holiday. Now you tell me. What are you doing here? Because I must tell you, from where I’m standing, this looks a lot like stalking.
” He crosses one arm over his chest and continues to stroke his chin, his mouth curling upward.
I feel my eyelids widening and my face flushing. I search my surroundings, wondering if there’s an actual gaslight flickering somewhere. “Me? Stalking you? You’re delusional.”
He lifts a single skeptical eyebrow, his expression infuriatingly smug. He waves his fingers at the surroundings, casting his spell. “Then what are you doing in Minnesota, Charlotte? Watching me at restaurants. Coming to my home. I told you I had a place on Big Island. I live here. You don’t.”
He never told me that. Did he? No, this is the same bullshit. Up is down. Down is up.
His attempt to turn this on me sends my heartbeat into overdrive. A tremor runs through my gut. “What? You never told me that. I had no idea you had a place on Big Island. I’m here because the Parkers invited me.”
A smirk tugs at his mouth. “The Parkers? That’s quite the coincidence then, isn’t it?”
My teeth clench so hard I’m worried I’ll break a filling. “No, it’s not a coincidence. I think you knew I was coming here.” I recall my meeting with the managing partner of Winthrop. He said he needed to “investigate” the matter. “Did Tim Colby put you up to this?”
“Oh, please.” He waves me off with his hand and walks away from me. He grabs a poker and fiddles with the ashes in the firepit. “Tim—and I, for that matter—have much more important things to do than chase after a rogue associate partner.”
I search his eyes and spot something beneath the sparkling blackness. He’s hiding something. He’s afraid of something.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m some hack. You know as well as I do that I’m one of the top performers in The Firm. How many projects have I bailed you out on? It’s cute selling the client, but it doesn’t work very well if you can’t deliver. You wouldn’t be shit without me.”
He rolls his eyes and releases a breath through his nose, but I can see I’ve struck bone. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
I point a finger at him. “Regardless, I don’t want you near me, my friends, or my family.”
His eyes twinkle, and his voice drops. “Are you sure about that? Because canoeing over to a man’s house just to say you don’t want him around sends a different message.”
The back door slides open before I can respond. His wife emerges with two cups of coffee.
“Oh,” she says, stopping short when she sees me.
He glares at me as if I trespassed somewhere sacred, but in an instant his face shifts, all warmth and hospitality.
“Dear,” he says, turning to her, “I’d like to introduce you to Charlotte Hoffman. She’s a colleague of mine at Winthrop. She was just paddling by and saw us having a coffee, so she stopped by to say hello. Charlotte, this is my lovely wife, Freida.”
She extends her hand and offers a warm, unsuspecting smile. “Charlotte, it’s so nice to meet you. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
I shake her hand. Static fills the air. I want to tell her the truth about her husband, but her eyes are too fragile, and my voice won’t come.
“No, thank you, Freida. I have a friend waiting for me, so I should get going.”
“Okay, well, it was lovely to meet you. A bit of a relief, really.”
“Why’s that?”
“For a second, I thought you might be the psychopath who attacked my poor Vivek.” She wraps her arm around him and gives him a squeeze.
I bite my lip and nod, saying nothing, afraid of what might slip if I opened my mouth.
Vivek, realizing that he’s dealing with a live grenade, turns to his wife. “Dear, my coffee is a little light on cream. Would you mind adding a touch more?”
“Of course.” Freida turns to me. “Charlotte, are you sure you don’t want some coffee to go?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
She wanders back into the house, oblivious.
The second the door clicks shut, I grab him by his right arm and twist. His body tenses. I lean in, my lips grazing his right ear.
“You should leave the island.”
He clicks his tongue against his teeth.
I turn and walk away, feeling his gaze burning into my back the entire way down to the canoe. As my feet hit the warm sand of the beach, I hear his voice, and a prickle runs up my spine.
“You should be more careful, Charlotte. Now I know where you live.”