own traffic. Alistair Sinclair loosened his tie, the silk whispering against his shirt. The morning's e

e phone bu

oice was crisp, efficien

tair said, cl

om the Blue Note. As you suspected, Mrs. Sinclair's approach

s lap, tapped once, sharply. The corner of his mouth tightened. He didn't n

eanor. "The manager at The Mercer Hotel just contacted me. An ear

ed on Alistair

He recognized it instantly. It was part of the set he'd had Leo purchase fo

dence only sharp

r eyes a defiant, drunken blaze. He had recognized her, of course, but her brazen approach, so unlike

e and angry. He remembered waking in the pal

n the nightstand. The note with h

vices re

n escort. Or worse, she wa

air's face. It was a smile of pure, predato

he asked, his voic

at Elysian Wellness-specifically the Women's Healt

ms and back-alley deals, flared to life. "Excellent," Alistair said. The weariness had vanished, replaced by a sharp, focused energy. "Leo, two t

e other end, a flicker of surpris

cool leather. His quiet, predictable wife of two years had ju

ntertaining than an

nted to see how she would handle the crisis she had created for herself. He wanted to see the lies she wo

to see h

. He leaned forward and

n," he told the drive

private elevator. When the doors finally slid open, revealing Chloe's pale, te

thought, ha