JASMINE STONE.
The rooftop café was quieter than usual. Only a few tables were occupied, and a gentle breeze tugged at the edge of the white umbrellas. Kimberly was already seated, black sunglasses perched on her head like a crown, scrolling through her phone with one hand and sipping sparkling water with the other.
She looked up when I approached, lips curling faintly. “No security detail today? I thought William kept you on a leash.”
I slid into the chair across from her. “Good afternoon to you too, Kimberly.”
She gave a dramatic sigh. “Let’s just get this over with.”
A waiter appeared. I ordered a citrus spritz, ignoring the sharp way she watched me like she was waiting for a punchline I hadn’t delivered yet.
“I have been thinking about what you said,” I said after a beat. “About
