She glanced away as Declan moved, as if to feign ignorance of where he had produced it from behind the press – this might be half for her own sake, the better to resist temptation later. She was never sure that she could trust her own self-control. One day sooner or later, she was sure she would snap, or veer into some downward spiral, watch everything just fall apart.

So she gave him a wan smile and took the bottle, opening the stopper and taking a pointed swig in answer. “Plausible deniability,” Tess joked. No glasses, less evidence. She grimaced as it went down, and passed Declan back the firewhiskey with a sigh, thinking he deserved it more than she did. “Sorry I’m a nightmare.”

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