Willow had just gotten into her car, ready to head home. Over at Baycrest Villas, Beasley was also sliding behind the wheel of his own car.
He rested his hand on the steering wheel, but his eyes drifted to the elegantly wrapped box sitting on the passenger seat. His gaze grew icy, glinting cold in the dim light.
When he'd left the villa just now, he'd taken with him the gift he'd once given Willow to mark their first meeting. She wanted to sell the house, but had left the gift behind without a second thought. No doubt about it—she didn't want it anymore.
Beasley could still remember the look on Willow's face when she first received the gift from him: wide-eyed, a little stunned, like she couldn't believe her luck.
And now? She'd tossed it aside as if it were nothing but trash.
He gave a low, bitter laugh. Fickle woman.
He tore his gaze away, fished out his phone, and dialed a number.
The call was answered almost instantly, the voice on the other end polite and deferential. "Mr. Windsor, what can I do for you?"
"I need a background check."
"Certainly, Mr. Windsor. Who is the subject?"
"Goes by the name STAR. Writes hard science fiction novels. I want everything—every detail—on my desk within a week."
"Yes, sir."
The call ended as efficiently as it had begun.
Beasley set the phone down and glanced again at the box. The only gift he'd ever given that woman. Now that it had found its way back to him, maybe it was time to close that chapter for good.
He started the engine and pulled away, leaving the villa—and the past—behind him.


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