“How long have you two been dating?”

I open my mouth to object to the term but catch myself. “Not long.”

“He’s very handsome. And young, too, right?” she says casually, sipping on her drink, curiosity dancing within her eyes, along with other thoughts that I can’t get a handle on.

“Yes, he is.” It’s all superficial conversation but I need to keep it going, regardless. “What about you and Aref?”

“I met Aref when I was sixteen. He was twenty-nine. Our parents arranged our marriage a year later.” When she sees my expression, a soft laugh escapes her lips that makes her suddenly sound much older. “He’s handsome, and extremely wealthy, so I didn’t object. That’s the only element of my culture I accepted, though. Otherwise I’ve fully embraced the Western way of thinking, much to my parents’ dismay.” She holds up her glass of Champagne, now almost empty, to prove a point, and fills it up again. A tiny body like hers can’t possibly handle that much alcohol, that fast.

“And Aref? Has he embraced the Western way of thinking?”

She shrugs noncommittally. “Mostly.”

Mostly. As in Elmira’s not 100 percent entirely satisfied, perhaps? It’s crazy, the things that people will admit to complete strangers when they’re unhappy. And drunk. Elmira’s shoulders are slouching just enough to tell me she’s probably tipsy by now. Plus, she sounds lonely. Lonely people are all too willing to answer questions.

I’d love to come right out and ask her what she means, but if I bide my time, I’ll get it out of her. “What do you do when you’re not on this yacht?”

She shrugs. “Organize parties. Volunteer at charities. I keep myself busy. Aref wants me to keep busy. He works a lot and I don’t know many people in Portland. Those I do know, I don’t particularly like. Mostly Aref’s business partners and their wives.”

Well, that was brutally honest. “So, what does Aref do?” This is beginning to sound like an interrogation—I’m half-expecting my phone to go off and Warner to hiss at me on the other end of the line—but I can’t help myself.

She doesn’t seem at all bothered, scanning her perfectly manicured nails. “He owns a transportation company.”

“Transportation,” I repeat.

“Ships. Lots and lots of big ships, that bring all kinds of things overseas, like clothing, packaged foods, cars . . .”

Bingo. Excitement bubbles up inside me as the pieces are clicking together. I’m a cat, cornering its mouse. “Cars?”

“There you are . . .”

Luke’s voice is like a long, thin needle jabbing into the bubble. It takes all my effort to keep my face neutral as I glance over to see him climbing the steps. His dazzling smile dulls the disappointment quickly, though.

“If you’ll excuse me, I should check on my husband. It was lovely talking to you, Rain.” Elmira sweeps past me.

“Thanks for the tour. I hope I see you again.” I truly do. Unhappy, young wife with loose lips when she’s drinking? Definite informant potential.

She pauses and looks over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing slightly at me. Just enough to create a twinge of insecurity on my part. “Yes. I’d like that.”

She’s cunning, that one. I had better be careful how I handle her.

“This place is ridiculous, huh?” Luke strolls over to the glass panel dividing us from the control room, pulling a cigarette out of his pack.

“You know, they say smoking will kill you.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard that.” He holds the lighter to the tip, but then pauses. “Does it bother you?”

“No, not really. I guess I’m used to it. My dad was a heavy smoker for years. He just quit a few years back, after my grandfather died of lung cancer.” I worry that it wasn’t soon enough.

And I just told my target a personal truth about me. Clara, not Rain. I make a mental note to add that to the file, to keep everything in check. But I’ve coupled it with a strategic lie about my grandfather, who’s still alive and well in Palermo, bless his soul.

“Huh . . . Mine died of lung cancer, too. So did my grandmother.” When Luke pauses on me for a long moment, then glances down at the cigarette in his hand, as if reconsidering, I know I’ve struck the chord I was aiming for. Finding a way to relate to your target is critical. “I’ve been thinking about quitting.” With a sigh, he lights up. “Maybe after things calm down.”

“Are things stressful for you right now?” I keep my voice airy, curious.

“Just work shit.”

“That big, angry guy in your office the other day?”

Luke dips his head to the side to show me his wide, genuine smile, making my stomach flip. “Who, Miller?”

“Is that the one who hates your guts?”

He laughs, taking another drag. “So, you noticed that.”

“Kind of hard not to. Why does he hate you so much?”

“Fuck, who knows. Bitter, I think. I was supposed to take over running the garage. But that’s been delayed indefinitely, so his job is safe. I thought he’d stop being such an ass.”

“Are you going to do something else instead?”

He doesn’t answer at first, just smoking his cigarette and peering out at the water through the windows. For a moment, I’m afraid I’ve gone too far.

“Nah, I’ll stay in the garage. Rust is giving it to me eventually. But my uncle’s got me doing some other stuff for him. He has a few businesses on the go.”