“Yes,” Winter answered, his voice clipped.

  “Good. Name?”

  “Gavi Ginsburg.” Winter looked away and focused instead on the simulation around them.

  Sydney tried to look nonchalant, but her mind was already spinning. So, this was the girl who had been in Winter’s hotel room. Sydney knew the name, had seen it in his file and the occasional article: Gavi Ginsburg, New York socialite. She had a long, on-and-off relationship with Winter, according to the tabloids. And apparently, they were on again. She shifted her stance, folding her hands together behind her back. Niall glanced briefly at her, but she pretended not to notice.

  Sauda nodded. “I ask because the gala will require her information as soon as possible. They’ll do a background check on her.”

  Winter shrugged. “They’ll find plenty in a public search.”

  “You won’t need to do anything once you’re in,” Niall added. “It shouldn’t even disrupt your tour schedule. Let us handle getting to Tems and ushering him out. All we need you for, Winter, is access.”

  “What about the president?” Sydney asked. “What about the plot to assassinate him?”

  “Let me be clear. That is not your mission,” Sauda replied. “Let me worry about that with the Sapphire Cross and the CIA. You worry about getting our guy safely back home.” She tilted her head at Winter, then nodded at Sydney. “That is, if you’re both willing to accept this.”

  Sydney glanced over to Winter, a thoughtful expression on his face. She recognized the look from her early days as an agent—questioning whether she’d make it out alive, whether the mission was worth doing, why she bothered throwing herself into these sorts of situations over and over. Another dangerous game in a foreign country. Another brush with shadowy groups and those hell-bent on bringing chaos into the world. Singapore was one of the wealthiest countries in Asia—and a gala in the city-state meant encounters with the world’s elite. The most insufferable people on the planet—but also the most powerful. They weren’t just rescuing a fellow agent. This was a political dance that could remake nations.

  Winter spoke first. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with my tour,” he muttered. “I don’t like lying to Claire, so I don’t want to have a hard time explaining it all to her.”

  “We’ll make it work seamlessly with your schedule and your performance,” Sauda answered.

  “That’s what you said last time,” Winter replied.

  Sauda shrugged, offering him a grave smile. “You know there are only so many guarantees in this business. We will do our utmost, as long as you do, too.” Then she glanced at Sydney. “And you?”

  Sydney sighed and unfolded her arms. Her eyes wandered around the paused simulation, still stuck on the scene of the Sapphire Cross agents making their way through the gala building. There were a million pieces of this rescue mission that could go wrong—she could sense it, could feel the chaos building. Niall had to coordinate successfully with the CIA; she had to be able to make contact with Tems at the gala; the assassination attempt had to be thwarted; they had to be able to get out in time.

  There’s always a reason why we choose you for your missions. Sauda’s words came back to her. It was why she was still here, why she put her trust in Panacea, why she had taken their oath when she was first recruited. Panacea always had their reasons, and they almost always involved the security of their agents.

  Sydney nodded. “I’m in.”

  Sauda smiled. “Then let’s get started,” she said.

  * * *

  By the time Sydney escorted Winter back to the side entrance of the hotel, the worst of the storm had passed, but the slanting rain was still pouring a waterfall onto the glass awning over the door. The sky was pitch-black, even though it was only midafternoon.

  “We can put you on a later flight,” Sydney offered as Winter flipped the collar of his coat up and stared out at the rain. “Yours isn’t canceled, but it won’t be a fun ride home in this.”

  Winter shook his head. “Can’t. I have a date.”

  As if on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket, but he didn’t bother answering it.

  Sydney folded her arms and tried to ignore the way her heart recoiled at his words. “Well, the sooner you confirm your date for the gala, the better,” she decided to say. “If she refuses, we’ll need time to resubmit your date’s info to the Singaporean authorities.”

  Winter shot her a sidelong look. “Her name’s Gavi.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  He stared at her a beat longer, as if he were trying to discern the reason for her dismissive answer. As if he knew it bothered her. Her annoyance only deepened.

  “Besides, how do you know she’s the date I’m talking about now?”

  She shrugged. “You’re a creature of habit, Winter,” she replied. “I just assumed it was the same person.”

  Winter looked at her for another moment, then turned back to the rain. His phone buzzed again in his pocket. “Well, what about you?” he said.

  For a second, his question confused her—it sounded a little like he was asking whether she could be his date. She frowned at him, her heart suddenly racing. “What about me?”

  “Tems. Your ex. Or fling. Whatever you want to call him.” Winter nodded at the curtain of water covering the glass. “Aren’t you the reason Sauda chose us for this mission? Because you have the best chance of luring him out?”

  “I’m not luring him out. He’s in trouble.”

  “Then why send you in particular?”

  She put her hands up. “The hell if I know. Ask Sauda.”

  “You must know him well.”

  She snorted, ready to give a sarcastic reply. But there was an edge to Winter, and suddenly she had the urge to annoy him further. “Well enough,” she answered instead. “He is … very talented.”

  She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. To her satisfaction, Winter’s lips tightened, but he didn’t betray more than that.

  “Hope he’s nice,” he muttered instead.

  “I only date nice guys,” she said sweetly.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Then I must have been a mistake.”

  She smiled at him. “Didn’t think that counted as dating.”

  He smiled back. “Fair enough.”

  The buzz of Winter’s phone cut the rising tension between them. This time, he sighed and reached into his pocket. “Claire probably wants to confirm our interviews tomorrow,” he muttered.

  But when he looked at his phone, Sydney saw his demeanor change. His skin paled, and his eyes darted over the same section of the screen—something had his immediate attention.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Winter didn’t say a word. Instead, he just tilted his phone so that she could see the white text on the screen.

  CLAIRE: Winter, it’s urgent. Part of the book was leaked to the press. Get ready for the headlines.

  7

  Impressions and Suspicions

  EXCLUSIVE: Leaked Chapters from Winter Young’s Tell-All!

  Excerpts Reveal Winter Young’s Past Struggle with Depression, Drugs …

  WINTER STORM: Does the World’s Favorite Pop Star Have a Rage Problem? New Book Details!

  The avalanche of media that followed the book leak was overwhelming and unavoidable. Despite Claire’s best efforts to steer them clear of the headlines as they headed to their waiting plane, Winter still caught glimpses of magazines all over the VIP terminal of the airport, lies from the upcoming book printed in bold on the cover pages.

  “I don’t want you reading the full excerpts,” Claire told him in a low voice as they walked down the terminal hall, their entourage ahead of them. “But I know you’ve seen enough. Do you recognize the stories? Are they all lies?”

  “Mostly lies,” Winter muttered.

  “Then I’ll pass that along to the lawyers and release a statement confirming the stories are fake.” Claire frowned. “Some of it is true, though?”

  Winter didn’t answer right away. Only when they reached the end of the hall and stepped out onto the tarmac, the summer sun turning their waiting jet searingly bright, did he say, “Some of it.”

  “Do you recognize anything about the excerpts? The writing style? A turn of phrase?” Claire asked quietly. “Do the stories match up with any particular person in your life?”

  Winter thought of one excerpt he read that morning, detailing his past depression and drug use. It was exaggerated, but not entirely false. He thought back to the time right after Artie had died, when his mother faded into a still figure on her bed, curtains drawn, body curled up, for days at a time. Winter had been twelve and did his best to fend for himself. But he found himself lost in a fog of darkness, too, and although he didn’t know what it was at the time, he’d started sneaking pills out of the bottles that were always sitting open on his mother’s dresser. Antidepressants, anti-anxiety meds. She never noticed, of course, never commented on his behavior. Not when he seemed to wander around the house in a daze, or when he’d suddenly wake from the fog, only to lie in bed at night, shivering, withdrawing from whatever he took. On those nights, everything about his senses would be heightened—he could feel every stitch in his blanket, could smell the awful stench of the smoke from cigars in the fibers of the carpet.

  “No,” he said, and shook his head. Claire nodded, her lips tight with disappointment.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of it,” she said. “I promise.”

  Winter stayed quiet as he walked behind his entourage and up the jet’s steps. As they entered the interior, Gavi took one of the seats in the front row, while Dameon slumped onto the couch lining the back and held up a paper with their full schedule.

  “Rehearsals are on the same day we land?” he groaned.

  “We only have two full days before the opening ceremony,” said Winter as he settled down beside Gavi. “I don’t think we have much of a choice.”

  Dameon looked at him. “You’ll be there for both, right?”

  Winter nodded. “Unless Claire calls me away for some last-minute thing.”

  “It’s fine. Sleep is overrated.” Dameon’s eyes skipped to Gavi. “Besides,” he said, staring warily at her. “I think I’d prefer to sleep through this entire flight, anyway. I’ll be plenty rested.”

  “Oh, cheer up, Dame. I make a great flight companion,” Gavi said, and from her voice, Sydney could tell that they must have known each other for a while.

  Dameon tightened his lips at her. “Won’t know. I’ll be asleep.”

  Gavi gave him a sweet smile, then winked at Sydney, who sat in the row behind her. “Ashley here likes me just fine.”

  Ashley Miller. The name for Sydney’s cover. Winter tensed as Sydney regarded Gavi politely. “I don’t have opinions on my client’s acquaintances, ma’am,” she answered.

  Gavi made an O with her lips. “So, you’re a discreet one,” she said, tilting her head at Sydney. “Thank god. Last thing I need is the security detail to have an opinion.”

  “She’s here to protect us, Gav,” Winter said with a sigh.

  Gavi crossed her arms and regarded Sydney carefully. “You know, Winter, I was surprised you invited me along, after what happened the last time we were in Singapore. She might have her work cut out for her,” she said with a wicked grin. “Well, girl, try not to mess with my vibe too much.”

  “I won’t, ma’am,” Sydney said, her professional tone completely unfussed. “Not if I can help it.”

  Gavi’s lips twitched at her answer. Winter gave Sydney a raised eyebrow and an expression that said, Please keep the peace in here, for my sake.

  Sydney just smiled a little and looked away, but Winter could read the dislike on her face.

  Gavi looked at Winter. “You can spare me your rehearsals,” she said. “I’m just here for your date nights at the gala. Don’t worry. I’ll find ways to keep myself busy. Maybe Ashley here can join me. Right, Ash? You seem fun.” She grinned at Sydney.

  Sydney looked back at her without reaction. “I’m just here to protect Mr. Young, ma’am.”

  “I bet you are,” Gavi said with a cold smile.

  Across from him, Winter saw Dameon’s eyes shift to his. The boy’s gaze was calm, as serene as it always was, but to Winter, it felt searing enough that he got up from his seat and headed to the back of the jet. Sydney looked at him, as if asking whether or not he wanted her to follow him, but he just shook his head subtly at her and opened a door, revealing an elegant bedroom with a queen-sized bed.

  He turned around with a sigh, eager to lie down and close his eyes.

  “Winter.”

  Dameon had followed in his wake, those serene eyes locked on him.

  Winter shrugged and stepped away so that his friend could enter. When they were alone, he turned and gave Winter a quizzical frown.

  “You gonna tell me why Gavi’s here?” he asked. “You guys can’t really be back together again?”

  Winter ran a hand through his hair and slumped on the edge of the bed. “It’s a long story,” he said. “Claire told me I needed a date for the ceremony, and Gavi was just … there.”

  Dameon frowned at him. “You could have just asked me.”

  Winter laughed a little. “Aren’t you seeing that baseball guy?”

  He shrugged. “It’s casual. I’m just telling you that I would have suffered through a night as your plus one if just to spare us all a trip with Gavi.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “But I promise, we’re not back together. It’s just a business thing.”

  Dameon looked at him skeptically, then turned to nod at the closed door. “And Ashley … Why’s she back?” he asked quietly.

  “She did a decent job last year in London. We needed extra security, so I had Claire reach out to her again.” Winter lifted an eyebrow at him. “What, you’ve got a problem with her, too?”

  He shook his head. “No, I liked her last time. This time, too.”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know.” Dameon folded his arms as he stood before Winter. “You tell me.”

  The carefully crafted story that Winter had told himself began to fall apart under the steadiness of Dameon’s stare. But the truth—that he was Sydney’s partner in another dangerous mission, that the president was in danger, that Panacea’s agent might be missing or dead, that he couldn’t tell anyone. Not even one of his best friends.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he replied. “I’ll be fine. Gavi’s going back to the States after we leave Singapore for our next stop. And Ashley’s an asset to the team. She’s good.”

  “Is that why you treat her differently from your other guards?”

  Winter crossed his arms. “What’s with your fixation on her?”

  “Just seems odd you only hire her for overseas jobs. Why didn’t you keep her on after we came back from London?”

  “Because we didn’t need her.” He rubbed his temples. “She’s too expensive, and we don’t use her to her full potential. You know she’s got experience with presidents, right?” Not exactly a lie.

  “Yeah, when we were boarding, I overheard her speaking fluent Mandarin to the flight attendant.”

  “Are you saying she’s overqualified to be my bodyguard? Because I’d have to agree.”

  Dameon hesitated. “I’m just saying. When she is here, she never leaves your side. Never. Does she go to the bathroom with you, too?”

  “Dameon, she stays in the adjoining room. Just like every other one of my personal bodyguards. There’s nothing weird going on here. I promise.” The lie stung and Winter braced for impact.

  But even though Dameon didn’t look like he believed Winter, not fully anyway, he gave him a nod and let it go. “Sorry,” he said after a moment. “Maybe I’m reading too much into this trip.”

  Winter smiled a little. “Well, you may be right about that.”

  A beat of silence hung between them before Dameon finally nodded again. “See you back out there,” he said.

  “I’ll be out in a few minutes,” Winter replied. “I just need to close my eyes for a bit.”

  Before he left, Dameon leaned closer to Winter.

  “And be careful with Gavi,” he whispered.

  “You always say this,” Winter began. “I didn’t think you cared who I dated anymore.”

  “I don’t. It’s been years since we—” He paused and threw his hands up in frustration. “Look, I mean it,” he went on in a low voice. “I know you invited her, but she always has an ulterior motive. So you might want to ask yourself why she’s really here.”

  He scowled. “We’ve only dated for three years. I’m aware of who she is, Dame. I’ve got it under control.”

  Dameon studied him, then turned away. Winter looked on at the swing of his friend’s dreadlocks as he shut the door behind him. A current of fear hummed under his skin, the unspoken glances and tension telling him what he didn’t want to admit to himself—that Dameon suspected something. Dameon was better at reading him than most, perhaps because of their past; he’d always been able to sense changes in Winter’s mood. And maybe he couldn’t put his finger on it, maybe he would never be able to give voice to what it was, but Winter knew he could feel it, could sense his friend’s unease stirring.

  If Dameon found out, it could endanger his life. That had happened with Leo in London. And it could put Sydney at risk even more.

  Winter had to get better at hiding everything, even if he didn’t know how.

  He flopped backward onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, felt the disorientation of being suspended in a tin can forty thousand feet in the air. Maybe this would be the last time his friend suspected anything. Maybe, years later, when he and Sydney had long put this behind them, Dameon would ask if he’d ever had a fling with Ashley or if anything strange had happened between them, and Winter would lie and laugh along, and everything would be fine.

  You are going to become a professional liar, Winter Young, Sauda had once told him. Your deception to your loved ones will protect their lives.

  He was doing a good thing. Winter repeated it to himself several times, letting the thought cling to him. And although he couldn’t quite convince himself, at least he had sixteen hours on this flight to try. So he lay there, his mind whirling, until the flight finally lulled him into a light sleep.