“Is that so? Give me a reason to believe you.” I challenged.
“I am not always honest. But I am a man of my word.” He said it like a toast. Calm. Certain. Like he’d rehearsed that line in mirrors and boardrooms and over very expensive drinks. I held my glass and waited, still looking deep into his soul.
“What? I am!” He assured me, half a smirk.
“Which word are we talking about?” I asked. “Because you’ve thrown quite a few at me.”
“The important ones. The ones that show I like you. That you make it feel all ok.”
Water slid across the glass wall over his shoulder. The pool above us turned light blue and pale gold. Reflections danced on his face every time he moved.
“You brought me up a mountain,” I reminded him. “In a helicopter. To a secret compound full of criminals, politicians and
