Part 12

Tawan pulled to a stop in front of her house and stared.

There was a car in the driveway. There shouldn't have been any cars in the driveway. There definitely shouldn't have been an empty car sitting there like it belonged. The lack of people inside the car implied that those people had gone somewhere else—like inside the house. She distinctly remembered telling Ira not to open the door, much less invite someone in. The woman could not follow directions even when her life actually depended on it.

Tawan clenched the steering wheel, forcing herself to take a slow breath. Not even twenty minutes. That was all she'd been gone. She suffered a flashback of the pool party Ira had thrown the second she'd left the house, the memory seared into her brain like a bad dream.

This house didn't have a pool.

And yet, somehow, she'd still managed to attract attention in a locked house, with no phone, in under twenty minutes. Tawan glanced at the sleek, dark-red BMW Z4 with custom gold-rimmed tires and a vanity plate that read PRINCESS.

Only one person in town had a car like that.

Ratchanee.

Her family had lived in Kalasin for generations. They owned half the land in town and had a reputation for being... selective about the company they kept. Ratchanee had been the queen of their high school. Kalasin's darling. She was also Tawan's ex-girlfriend. A stupid, teenage mistake in hindsight. The basketball captain and the queenbee—a walking stereotype, made worse by the fact that everyone thought they should be together. It had felt real at the time, but it wasn't. At best, it was convenient.

Until it wasn't.

Tawan exhaled sharply, yanked the keys out of the ignition, and grabbed the grocery bags from the passenger seat. The last thing she needed was Ira practicing her new fake identity on her actual ex. Ratchanee knew her too well. Way too well. And she was great at sniffing out a lie.

She stalked up the steps, already bracing for disaster. The sound of laughter drifted down the hallway. Tawan shut the door behind her—quietly. She set the grocery bags on the wooden entry table, then moved toward the voices.

"Well, I knew right then that Tawnie was the one for me," Earn's voice floated down the hall, bubbling with amusement.

Tawan winced. Tawnie. That damn nickname. Ratchanee—had given it to her years ago. She had hated it then. She loathed it now. But at least Earn was sticking to the cover story. Her opinion of the woman inched up. Slightly.

She peered into the spacious living room, where Earn sat grinning like she owned the place. Across from her, Ratchanee and Mali.

Of course.

Ratchanee didn't go anywhere without Mali, her forever sidekick.

"I can't believe Tawan actually fought over you." Ratchanee's voice was sweet and cutting all at once.

Tawan knew that tone. It was the same one she used when pretending to be gracious—right before ripping someone apart.

"People never really grow up, do they?" Mali added, voice light and amused.

"Don't be like that," Ratchanee crooned. "I remember her being plenty grown-up when we dated."

The implication hit hard. Tawan felt the memory of heated kisses in the back of her truck sucker-punch her gut. For a second, she was eighteen again, invincible and reckless, drunk on the heady rush of having a beautiful woman in her arms.

Until she didn't.

Ratchanee hadn't called after Tawan had shipped out. Not once. She hadn't made any effort to get in touch during any of the rare occasions when Tawan came back for the holidays. Not since she married the guy who had taken over as captain of the rugby team after Tawan had left for military service.

So why had she rushed over the second she found out Tawan was back in town tonight? She had an agenda. She always did. Tawan had been too blind to see it back then, but she sure as hell saw it now.

"You know," Ira said, her tone breezy as she leaned against the kitchen counter, "Tawnie seems so bitter and standoffish on the surface, but she's such a softie once you get to know her. She's like...like dark chocolate wrapped around a marshmallow."

"Marshmallow?" Mali choked on the word.

Ratchanee's lips tightened slightly, though her voice remained smooth. "What makes you think she's bitter?"

"Oh, bitter's probably a strong word," Ira said with a too-innocent smile. "Brooding is better. My wa—I mean, Tawnie is always expecting something...you know, to go wrong."

If Ira kept talking, she was going to blow their cover in less than three seconds. Tawan strode into the kitchen before that could happen.

Three heads snapped toward her at the same time. A moment of stunned silence, then—

"Hey, Liang." Mali gave her a little finger wave.

Ratchanee slid off the stool, her hips swaying as she approached, her smile carrying just enough nostalgia to make it obvious she was testing the waters. "Tawan."

"Honey bear!"

Ira shot past Ratchanee and launched herself into Tawan's arms with a squeal. Tawan caught her automatically. Ira's arms wrapped around her shoulders, and before Tawan could react, she felt warm breath brush her cheek.

"You're home! We were just talking about you."

Tawan dipped her head slightly, her lips brushing against Ira's ear. "Earn, you have some explaining to do," she muttered, voice low.

"They brought food," Ira whispered back like that was a valid excuse.

Tawan pulled back just enough to give her a pointed look. "You opened the door for food?"

"And dessert," Ira added, her smile stretching in a way that was starting to look a little too forced.

"Makes sense."

The entire room felt like a powder keg ready to explode, but Tawan had no idea which woman was going to light the match first.

Then, before she could even react, Ira tilted her head down, her breath warm against Tawan's jaw, and kissed her. It wasn't just a brush of lips. It was a slow, lingering press, soft at first—testing—before Ira shifted slightly, tilting her head at just the right angle, her lips parting ever so slightly.

A teasing flick of heat. It wasn't deep. It wasn't desperate. But it was intentional. Calculated.

And it rattled something in Tawan's chest in a way that wasn't supposed to happen. Her fingers instinctively tightened around Ira's waist.

For a split second—just a split second—she had the insane urge to deepen it. To tilt Ira's chin up, to slide a hand into that soft, freshly cut hair and feel how it really moved beneath her touch.

Instead, she forced her grip to loosen and gently pulled back. Ira blinked up at her, her pupils blown wide, her chest rising and falling just a little too fast.

For once, Ira Suwannathat had nothing to say. She looked just as stunned as Tawan felt.

What the hell was that?

Tawan's brain had a full system reboot before she forced herself to move, carefully peeling Ira's hand from her chest. It wasn't real. It was playacting. That was all. Ira was a performer, and she was playing her role. Nothing more.

Then Ratchanee spoke.

"Tawan."

That smooth, sweet voice with a blade hidden underneath.

"It's so wonderful to meet your new girlfriend. An actress. How...unlike you."

A backhanded compliment if Tawan had ever heard one. She knew Ratchanee's game. She was trying to push Ira into snapping. Trying to chip away at their story. Tawan wrapped an arm around Ira's shoulders, pulling her just a fraction closer. Then she turned to Ratchanee with a carefully unreadable expression.

"I've always found confidence attractive," she said flatly.

For a split second, Ratchanee's lips pressed together just a little too tight. Then the expression passed, her smile sliding effortlessly back into place. Ira, meanwhile, blinked slowly, as if trying to figure out whether Tawan was serious. Then, in a flash of wicked delight, she tilted her head against Tawan's shoulder with a smug grin.

"See? Told you she was a marshmallow."

Tawan kept her face carefully neutral.

But her arm tightened slightly around Ira's shoulders.

Ira wiggled slightly in Tawan's grip. Maybe to put distance between them. Maybe to remind her that she was holding on too tightly. Tawan didn't let go. She increased the pressure.

Ratchanee's smile was the same one she used in her old pageant photos—polished, practiced, and performative. It was meant to invite admiration, not convey emotion. "Yes, you did say that."

"She's got a good eye," Mali quipped. "Tawan's definitely a snack."

Ratchanee shot her friend a sharp look. Mali immediately flushed. "Sorry."

"You know, Tawan," Ratchanee tilted her head thoughtfully, "why don't we all have lunch tomorrow? I'd love to get to know Earn better, and I have an idea I think you're going to love."

Tawan felt a headache forming instantly.

"Sorry, can't." She shifted toward the door. This conversation needed to end. Yesterday. Any idea Ratchanee had was guaranteed to be a terrible one. "We just got in."

Earn, ever the professional chaos generator, hugged Tawan's arm with both hands, her body pressing deliberately close as they moved down the hall. "Maybe we could meet up later in the week. I've really been looking forward to meeting Tawan's friends and family. She's told me so much about you all."

Tawan fought the urge to groan out loud.

"Really?" Ratchanee stretched the word out just long enough to be obnoxious. "That's...interesting. She usually won't talk about family. It's been a touchy subject for her ever since...well, you know."

Ira stopped mid-step and turned back to her. "Know what?"

Tawan stiffened. This was the conversation she'd been dreading since she made the mistake of bringing Ira to Kalasin. Ratchanee made a dramatic oh face and exchanged a glance with Mali. Tawan cut in before she could get another word out. "It's getting late."

"Oh, about her mother, of course." Ratchanee's voice dripped with innocent malice. "She doesn't like to talk about it. Surely, she's told you. That seems like something she shouldn't be hiding from someone so...close to her."

Ira didn't miss a beat. She let out a light, practiced laugh—the kind that had probably charmed half of Bangkok's elite at charity galas. "Oh...right. Yes, she's tried to tell me, but it's such a tough subject. As you can imagine."

Tawan saw right through her. Ira didn't know. Not really.

But she wasn't about to lose a power play with Ratchanee.

"I meant...everyone else," she added smoothly, flashing a perfectly charming smile.

"Of course you did," Ratchanee said, clearly unimpressed. She picked up her keys. "We should get going. I have that early meeting tomorrow."

"Meeting?" Mali blinked, confused. Then understanding dawned across her face. "Oh, the meeting. Right. Slipped my mind. It was nice to meet you, Earn."

"This really made my day," Ira said.

Tawan winced internally.

She had heard that exact phrase before—many times, in countless behind-the-scenes clips and interviews. If Ratchanee was a fan, she'd pick up on it.

But Ratchanee's focus stayed locked on Tawan.

"Will you be around for Homecoming?" she asked.

Tawan fought the urge to roll her eyes. Like hell she planned to be in Kalasin that long. "Not sure."

"I hope so." Ratchanee gave Ira a stiff, disapproving smile. "I'll call to set up lunch."

"Can't wait." Ira wiggled her fingers in a playful wave as the two women made their exit.

Tawan locked the door immediately and carried the groceries to the kitchen. Ira followed, suspiciously quiet. It lasted about ten seconds.

"When did your mother die?"

Tawan went still. She should have known this was coming. She'd hoped they'd find the stalker and get the hell out before it did.

Too late for that. Her throat tightened around the words she didn't want to say.

"None of your business," Tawan said flatly. "Let's focus on your inability to follow simple instructions."

She really didn't want to have this conversation. Nothing she experienced in the military—not combat, not the grueling training, not even the worst days in the field—had come close to the day she'd watched her mother die.

Nothing ever would. But for this operation to succeed, Ira needed to understand. And that's all it was.

Information.

Better to give her the story straight so she could avoid stepping on that landmine in the future. Then move the hell on. Tawan turned to face her, spine straight, shoulders squared—like a soldier. "She died when I was seventeen. A stalker ran her off that bridge we crossed on our way into town. She drowned."

Ira sucked in a breath and stared.

Tawan waited for her to process. Maybe she'd offer the usual greeting card sentiments like Sorry for your loss or Is there anything I can do? Or maybe her curiosity would push her to ask for more details about the stalker. After all, it echoed her own situation, which had to be hitting a nerve.

It sure as hell did for Tawan. This was why she ran a security firm. Why she'd taken on this assignment, despite every instinct screaming at her not to.

No woman deserved to be hunted.

Ira stayed quiet, watching her. Maybe she was imagining the wreck—Tawan's mother, trapped in the car as the river swallowed her whole. Or maybe she was picturing herself being chased.

Tawan cleared her throat, snapping her back to the present. "If someone mentions it again... well, now you know." Ira cast a glance toward the living room. "Did she paint the picture over the fireplace?"

"Yes."

"SL?"

"Saowaluk Liang."

"Saowaluk." Ira whispered the name like it was something sacred. "It's beautiful."

"Yes."

For once, the silence between them didn't feel suffocating. Ira gave herself a small shake, breaking the moment. "I... my dad died in a car crash."

Tawan didn't move.

"It's not the same, I know," Ira continued, voice softer now. "It was just a stupid drunk driver, not a stalker. But... the how doesn't really matter, does it?" She gave a small, sad smile. "The hurt never quite goes away."

She turned for the hallway, but before she reached the stairs, she paused. "I know I'm probably the last person on the planet you wanted to share that with. Thanks for telling me." She padded softly up the stairs, leaving Tawan standing alone in the kitchen.

She watched the empty space where Ira had been standing for a long time. Underneath the shallow, self-absorbed star was a woman who inspired insane amounts of loyalty—not just from her fans, but from her family.

Tawan was beginning to see why. And that unnerved her almost as much as that kiss.