Johan had a stable of private investigators, and he reached out to one of them, and to a friend who claimed she was as good as any PI he knew, just in case.

Hi Portia,

I know you’re busy with the new business, but I think you mentioned tracking down someone using just their username for your sister? Can you check out this FloupGelee person if you have the time? The link is below.

He’d also sent the link to Greta to ask her to look into it. He was a little surprised that she hadn’t seen this sooner—she was usually on top of this kind of thing.

Not having any control over the situation was what had Johan wide-awake in the middle of the night and pacing. If he didn’t know where the threat was coming from, he couldn’t lie or charm to neutralize it.

There was a chiming sound through the door. Nya’s phone.

He was already annoyed, but an uncharacteristic anger bloomed at the sound, which he’d also heard the night before. He hadn’t asked her about her mysterious text lover since they’d agreed to the fake engagement, but he’d seen her checking her phone in their bed in Njaza, and each time that chime went off, she scrambled for the phone, angling it away from him.

Johan tugged at his hair, reminding himself he had no claim on her and that policing her use of her phone was crossing several lines. Then he walked over to her door and knocked, wiping the frustration from his face.

There was the sound of her getting out of the bed and then of the door unlocking. She wore a silky-looking black scarf around her braids, which were up in a bun, and black gym shorts with a plain white tank top.

She was beautiful.

“Hi,” she said.

Johan understood he couldn’t very well demand to know what she was doing on her phone, and that he shouldn’t.

“I couldn’t sleep and thought I heard you moving around,” he said, casually leaning against the door.

She looked sheepish—or was that guilt?

She has nothing to be guilty about.

“Oh sorry. I was playing a game. I had the chime up loud so I’d receive the notification.” She ran a thumb under the strap of her tank top, which had twisted as she slept.

“Hmm.” His gaze followed her thumb’s arc over her shoulder because he didn’t want to look at her face and see if she was lying to him when she had no reason to. He lied all the time, so he was the last person to judge, but he didn’t lie to her. If she’d lied to him—that would hurt, even if she wasn’t really his.

He nudged his suspicion aside.

“Want to come in?” he asked. “I feel like we haven’t had much time to talk with everything going on.”

Her gaze brightened. “Are we going to spoon again?”

Johan’s body went taut at her enthusiasm. “Do you . . . want to?”

“I think it could be nice. It’s a bit drafty with these high ceilings.”

Ah. So he was going to be a living blanket. That worked for him, as long as he got to hold her. “Then yes. Come spoon with me.”

She stepped over the threshold, and then past him as he moved out of her way.

She climbed into the bed and looked at him expectantly, and he walked over slowly, moving around the bed to the other side. She rolled over to look at him.

“I liked when we shared the bed in Njaza, and this one is much more comfortable than that one. And the one in my room. Not too hard, not too soft.” She pulled the duvet over her shoulder.

Johan couldn’t help himself—he reached over and tucked the blankets around her.

Her hand snaked out from beneath the blanket and caught his forearm gently as he pulled away. “Phoko . . . about that woman. Were you telling the truth?”

It was a valid question, but it still hurt, especially when his senses told him that she was hiding something from him.

“I wouldn’t abandon a child,” he said. “And I have no idea who she was other than someone trying to make me look bad for voters. I don’t know if you’ve read much about it, but the opposition has promised ridiculous tax breaks to the wealthy if we’re voted out. There’s incentive for Arschlocher and others not to play nice.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry. I keep remembering things about my father. And today I thought about how he was also a good liar, and it scared me.”

“I told you that I wouldn’t lie to you,” he said because it was the only thing he could give her.

“That’s why I asked you,” she said, the barest of smiles on those lips he’d gone too long without tasting. “Maybe I should be more cynical, but I believe you. Because you’re a good liar, but you’re also a good man. My father isn’t, and I shouldn’t compare you. It’s also kind of creepy thinking of you like that.”

He stretched out beside her, wanting to run his hand down her bare arm but restraining himself as if a sword lay in the bed between them.

“It’s not creepy to try to figure out if you’re attracted to me or to a pattern that you were caught up in and had no control over. You do have control now and you’re trying to protect yourself.”

“See?”

“What?”

She was looking at him all wide-eyed, and he shook his head.

“Oh no, I’m not nice. That’s common sense.”

“Whatever you say.” Her eyes were still bright with pleasure. How could he think she was hiding anything?