Chapter 2
Series 1 Chapter 2
By the time we reached our hotel in Zurich, I had stopped expecting anything from our anniversary.
The receptionist handed Dominic two key cards.
“One for the master suite. The connecting suite is prepared for Ms. Camille.”
I looked at him.
“The connecting suite?”
“Camille needs to stay close. We have an early departure tomorrow.”
Camille immediately said, “If Eleanor is uncomfortable, I can move downstairs.”
Dominic shook his head.
“No. Stay. It’s more convenient.”
Inside our suite, Dominic’s preferred pillow was already on the bed.
His stomach medicine sat beside room-temperature water. A pressed suit hung near the wardrobe.
Camille noticed me looking.
“I sent his preferences ahead.”
“You know what pillow he sleeps on?”
She paused.
“I travel with him a lot.”
A few minutes later, she returned with two ties.
“The gray one photographs better.”
Dominic barely looked up.
“Use that one.”
I watched her replace the tie as naturally as if she had done it a hundred times.
“Do you usually come into his room like this?”
Camille stopped.
“Only when work requires it.”
“And the connecting door?”
“I usually leave it unlocked in case the schedule changes.”
I stared at her.
“So you can enter my husband’s bedroom whenever you need to?”
Her expression changed.
“If that makes you uncomfortable, I’ll move rooms.”
She picked up her key card.
“I should have considered how it looked.”
Dominic finally looked up.
“No. You’re staying.”
I walked to the connecting door and locked it.
“If something changes, she can knock.”
It did not remove her from the room. It only meant she could no longer walk between our bedrooms whenever she pleased.
His face darkened.
“Eleanor, stop turning everything into something inappropriate.”
“I locked a door.”
“You humiliated her.”
Camille quickly said, “Dominic, it’s fine. She doesn’t owe me anything.”
“No,” he said coldly. “She does.”
I thought I had misheard.
“What?”
“Apologize.”
I looked at him.
“For wanting another woman to knock before entering our bedroom?”
“Camille has done nothing except make my life easier for years.”
His gaze hardened.
“You’re the one making this ugly.”
For years.
She knew his medicine, his coffee, his schedule, his clothes, even the pillow he slept on.
And somehow, I was the embarrassing one.
Before I married Dominic, I had been one of the youngest vice presidents at a New York investment bank and an early architect of a women-led investment fund.
I stepped away when his work began moving us from city to city.
Five years later, the woman who had once negotiated eight-figure deals was being ordered to apologize for locking her own bedroom door.
I picked up my bag.
Dominic frowned.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m giving you your privacy.”
“If you walk out over something this ridiculous, don’t expect me to come after you.”
Five years ago, that would have stopped me.
Tonight, it didn’t.
“I don’t expect you to.”
I walked out.
The elevator doors closed.
My phone vibrated.
My attorney had replied.
I can have the first draft ready tonight.
I typed back:
Send it.
Dominic thought I had left our anniversary suite for one night.
He had no idea I was preparing to leave his life for good.