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He sighs. “I went over there a few months ago, when Dad was in Chicago. I thought Candace had gone with him. She hadn’t. She was there, asked me to stay for a drink. Things evolved from there.”
I shake my head. “Jesus. Is it still going on?”
“It happened a few more times. It was kinda hot, you know? She’s—”
I interrupt. “I don’t want any details. I can’t picture you two together, and I don’t want to.”
Oliver is silent for a few minutes. “I can picture you together. You and Scarlett. Not likethat, just in general. And you can deny it all you want, but it’s obvious you care about her.”
“I don’t.” My response sounds empty, even to my own ears.
He hums. “I heard she was in your office after the board meeting.”
I squint over at him as another pair of headlights illuminate the car. “Where did you hear that?” His office is on the opposite end of the floor.
“From at least ten people. Overheard some of the secretaries talking about it too.”
I scoff.
Oliver pulls over opposite the hotel and shifts the car into park. We sit and stare at the building.
“Well?” I ask.
“Well what?”
“This was your idea. What’s next, Sherlock Holmes?”
“Maybe we should go inside. Or you should.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe if you catch her, she’ll feel guilty and tell you what is really going on.”
“That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.”
“Mywife isn’t the one cheating on me.”
“No, you’re the Nathaniel in your scenario and I’m Dad.” I lean my head against the glass and close my eyes. “Fuck.”
“There she is.”
I raise my head and open my eyes, fully prepared to see Scarlett kissing another man. Instead, she walks out of the hotel alone, wearing the same dress she had on this morning. Her hair is up in the same fancy twist I was careful not to disturb while she was blowing me. She doesn’t look like she was just rolling around in hotel sheets or engaging in a passionate affair, but looks can be deceiving.
Rather than head straight for the car waiting along the curb, she hesitates. I watch her give the driver await a minutegesture and then retreat toward the hotel. She doesn’t walk back inside. Instead, she leans against the brick exterior of the building with her head tipped upward.
After a couple of minutes, she pulls her phone out of her pocket. She stares at it for a few more minutes, then starts tapping on the screen. Eventually, she raises it to her ear.
Oliver swears. “Dammit. I told Dad he should have the PI tap her phone. She’s probably calling Jonathan. Now we won’t—” He stops talking when my phone lights up in the cupholder. Scarlett’s name and the photo of us at the top of the Eiffel Tower light up the screen. “She’s callingyou?”
I’m just as shocked as he is.
“Answer it!”
Silently, I grab the phone and tap the green button. I pull in a deep breath as the call connects.
“Crew?”
I shove the anger and jealously and turmoil far, far down and attempt to sound normal. “Hi.”
