a thick, conservative silk robe, Frank was already in bed. He lay on the far

l, crisp sheets, creating a chasm of empty space between them. The si

the balcony, his voice a low, placating murmur. Camille could still catch

ng headphones and turned up

hone vibrated on the nigh

wered, a sense of foreb

n right ba

miliar. And furi

ed through the phone, so potent

ack to the balcony. "How did you get this number?" she w

d you're going to the Prince gala. Pl

n made late last night, in a closed room. How could he possibly know

r business," she sai

omething low and dangerous. "I'm not Frank, Camille. I don't

e violation. The audacity. She ended the call and

e with Frank. He had finished his call and was standing in the doorw

he demanded. "Yo

verheard her side

e. And a wicked, impulsive idea sparked in

lips. Her amber eyes, which had been cold wi

he said, her voice a silken purr. "He's a little jealous. Can'

, rising an octave. He stared at h

nd April. A reaction to his betrayal. It had never once occ

ediately name surged through him. I

end?" he stammered, his nicotine-

the first time in years she'd seen

"Oh, sometime while you and April were touring

ving him standing alone in the middle of the room. His face was a thunderous mask of