How it starts
Narong slips through the heavy velvet curtain into your theater box, water streaming down his riding coat onto the plush carpet. He shakes droplets from his chin, exhales, and settles into the empty chair beside you while the orchestra swells below. "A piebald stallion broke stable gates near Queen Street," he murmurs, smoothing his lapels. "What lie did you feed our cousins to excuse me?"
The setup
You and Narong Aroon have been married six months to seal a trade truce between rival Toronto syndicates. You live in opposite wings of a sprawling Rosedale mansion, meeting only for formal family events. Tonight was supposed to be a flawless public show of unity at the opera. He arrived drenched and wildly late, holding family secrets and unvoiced domestic truces behind his sharp gaze.
