Bound By Lies: Marrying The Strict Colonel

to perfection, and Ethan, it seemed, had fallen completely. Each day had drawn them closer, building a fragile

transformed into something that whispered of old money and older secrets. Kiera had dressed for it carefully-a

stood the architecture of his shoulders, the length of his legs. He looked, she thought, like he belonged here. Like he'd

s Burgundy, older than she was, tasting of earth

oed, and tried not to th

hes, the busy nothing of a socialite's existence. She asked about his-he spoke carefully, filtering classified information into anecdotes that would

that were themselves works of art. Ethan set down his knife with a preci

thing for yo

recognize. She took it automatically, her fingers numb, and felt the weight of

t is

if he were discussing the weather. "For the Pentagon. Any spouse of an

a rictus that felt like it m

hey'll need fingerprints, financial records, the last ten years of travel history, foreign contacts, family associations

ction, she knew it with absolute certainty. Fingerprints didn't lie. Social Security numbers didn't lie. The name she'd give

t, her throat dry as sand. "Ju

n, any discrepancy-" He paused, his knife hovering over his plate. "It would be serious. Potentially criminal. I wouldn't mention it except-" He reach

rm. Steady. Com

o existed in records and registries and government files that had nothing to do with Chasity Cantu

the chair scraping against the

, his hand at her elbow, his face transformed by wor

She moderated, forcing a smile that felt like a

of the person she'd pretended to be. The envelope burned against

railing until her fingers ached. Below, the city spread in patterns of light and dark, indif

in, of leaving Ethan with questions and confusion and the memory of a

her when he'd said "my future," and something in her

d behind her.

controlled, the officer managing

re no words that would

oulders, let him guide her through the restaurant with a hand at the small of her

confined space. She stared out the window, watching the city trans

the Willard, close enough to maintain the fiction. "I feel like wal

turned to face her. In the dashboard li

s hand cupping her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. "Whatever you're afraid of, whatever you'

n she'd wanted anything, more than revenge or justice or the sati

tter. She'd alw

and fled into the darkness