Chapter 2

My best friend, Olivia Lane, nearly sprayed her coffee across the table when I finished telling her.

"Once a week?!" Her eyes went huge. "Edward Holmes? Once a week?"

I kept my head down and stirred my latte.

"No, seriously, do you know what his reputation was before you?" She leaned in and dropped her voice. "He was in the gossip columns every other week. Everyone said he ran through women like water. So how is it that with you, he's—"

She paused to pick the right word. "Gone celibate?"

"Maybe he's bored." I forced the corner of my mouth up. "Maybe he's like that with everyone, and once he's got a wife at home, he can't be bothered."

"No way." Olivia shook her head. "You've been married three months. This is supposed to be the honeymoon phase.

"And look at how he treats you. Whatever you want, you get. Limited-edition bags, no questions asked. Presents every time he comes back from a trip. You call that bored?"

I didn't know what to say.

Honestly, Edward was really good to me.

He looked after every detail of my life, never blinked at spending money, and remembered exactly what I liked.

If I mentioned in passing that some restaurant made a good dessert, a takeout box from that place showed up in our kitchen the next day.

But we were only having sex once a week.

He never lingered afterward.

He always finished before midnight and then took a long, long shower.

"I'm telling you, there's someone else in his heart." Olivia sounded certain. "It's in every novel. The guy in the arranged marriage is still hung up on his first love, and he goes through the motions with the heroine."

"That makes sense." I nodded.

I didn't believe it, but I needed a reason.

I needed something that explained why he kept me at arm's length.

"So what do I do?" I asked Olivia.

Her eyes lit up with mischief, and her grin said she had a plan. "Make him jealous."

"Jealous?"

Olivia continued, "Yes. Find a man and rattle him a little. Show him you're not stuck with him. Give him something to worry about."

She leaned closer. "I know a male host, gorgeous, and I can have him pretend to drive you home one night. Then we see how your Mr. Holmes reacts."

I hesitated. "That seems like a bad idea."

"What's bad about it?" Olivia rolled her eyes. "You're married to the man, he touches you four times a month, and you're fine with that? Test him. What if he actually has feelings for you?"

What if he actually had feelings for me?

That one sentence landed like a pebble in still water, and the ripples spread all the way through me.

I couldn't help but be moved.

*****

A week went by.

Olivia worked fast. She found the model, a guy named Ken Holland, six-foot-two, with sharp features and a grin that was pure bad-boy charm.

We met at a bar, had a few drinks, and talked for a while.

Ken was easy to talk to and got a laugh out of me more than once. But if I was honest, my mind was somewhere else, and I kept checking my phone.

Edward had a work dinner that night and had said he'd be home late.

I'd told him I was having dinner with Olivia.

He didn't reply.

I stared at the thread, and his last message stung more than it should have.

Edward: [What are you eating?]

That was it? Didn't he ask who I was with or when I'd be home?

"Did you and your husband have a fight?" Ken asked.

I shook my head with a smile. "No."

He saw right through me and let it go, lifting his glass. "Then one more drink, and I'll drive you home."

I clinked my glass against his.

I didn't drink much. I had never been able to hold my liquor, and I only finished half a cocktail. But it snuck up on me, and by the time we got into the car, my head was already swimming.

Ken sat beside me at a polite distance, neither too close nor too far.

Neon flickered past the window. I leaned back and watched the light and shadow slide over my face, and Edward's face surfaced in my mind out of nowhere.

What had he been wearing when he left the house today?

A dark gray suit?

No, I hadn't been up when he left. By the time I woke, he was already gone.

Breakfast had been waiting on the table, made by someone he'd sent, along with a note in his handwriting that said: [Don't skip breakfast.]

His handwriting was all bold slashes and loops.

I'd stared at that note for a long time before I finally tucked it into a drawer.

Olivia said Edward was good to me.

He really was.

But it was the way one was good to a houseguest who needed looking after, not the way a man was good to his wife.

The car pulled up in front of the house.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Ken got out too and steadied me with a hand under my elbow, as natural as anything. "Careful."

I gave him a small smile. "Thanks, this is my stop."

He didn't leave right away. He stood at the bottom of the steps, watching me.

That was when the front door opened.

Edward stood in the doorway.

He couldn't have been home long. He was still in the charcoal suit, tie loosened, the top two buttons of his shirt undone.

Under the porch light, his expression was hard to read, but his eyes were locked on Ken and me without blinking.

The air seemed to freeze solid.

"Mr. Holmes." Ken spoke first, perfectly polite. "I'm Olivia's friend. I'm just dropping Ms. Bennett off."

Edward didn't say a word.

He walked down the steps toward us, one deliberate step at a time.

I suddenly felt nervous and instinctively took a half-step back.

He stopped right in front of me, looking down at me.

His eyes were as deep as ink, swirling with emotions I'd never seen before.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked.

His voice was so deep it made me shiver.

I nodded.