“Surely they can manage without you for an extra hour,” Blaine says.
“I’d rather not risk it.”
I’m already pushing my chair back when Vanessa stands abruptly, her hand shooting out to grip my elbow.
“Actually, Gabriel, before you go, I wanted to show you something upstairs.” Her fingers dig into my arm through my shirt sleeve. “It’ll only take a moment. I’ve been meaning to ask your professional opinion about the guest room. The designer did something I absolutely hate, and I’d love your input on how to fix it.”
I look at Marshall, trying to communicate my desperation through eye contact alone. Save me. Don’t let her drag me away. But Vanessa is already pulling me toward the house, her grip surprisingly strong for someone who looks like she survives on white wine and Pilates.
“It’ll just be a minute,” Vanessa calls over her shoulder to Marshall. “Felicity, darling, why don’t you show Marshall the garden? We just had new lighting installed last month.”
Felicity brightens and moves toward Marshall. I watch him glance between me and Vanessa, his jaw tightening, but what can he do?
Vanessa tows me through the house and up the curved staircase. We reach the second floor, and she pulls me down a hallway and pushes open the door at the end, gesturing me inside.
The guest room is huge, with white furniture, pale blue accents, and windows overlooking the lake. It’s tasteful, expensive, and there’s nothing obviously wrong with it.
Vanessa steps in behind me and leans against the doorframe, blocking my exit. She crosses her arms and studies me with an expression I can’t read.
“So,” I say, turning slowly to face her. “What did you want to show me?”
“There’s no design issue.” Her voice is matter-of-fact. “I wanted to talk to you about something else.”
My stomach drops. “Okay.”
She pushes off the doorframe and takes a few steps into the room, maintaining distance but making it clear I’m not leaving until she’s done. “Gabriel, I know about you and Blaine.”
The room tilts. For a second I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but stand there and try not to panic. Is this where she kills me? Wraps my body in a rug and dumps me in the lake?
“I—” My voice comes out strangled. I clear my throat and try again. “Mrs. Ashford—”
“Vanessa.” She holds up a hand. “And before you spiral into a full panic attack, let me be clear: I don’t mind.”
I stare at her. The words don’t register. They’re in English, but they might as well be in another language for all the sense they make.
“What?”
“I don’t mind,” Vanessa repeats. She walks to the bed and sits on the edge, crossing her legs. “I’ve known about my husband’s preferences for a long time.”
I continue staring, my brain refusing to process this. She knows. And she doesn’t care.
Vanessa examines her manicured nails, casual, as if we’re discussing the weather. “Blaine has been cheating on me for decades. It’s not like I’m with him out of love, honey. He takes care of me, pays my bills, and gives me the lifestyle I want. Inreturn, I don’t ask too many questions, and he doesn’t ask me any either.” She glances up at me. “Besides, he’s too old for me. I like them younger.”
My mouth opens, closes, opens again. “What are you trying to tell me?”
She stands and moves closer, and I resist the urge to back away. “For a while, I wasn’t sure who Blaine’s current obsession was. He’s pretty discreet.” She pauses, studying my face. “When I found out it was you, I was actually glad.”
“Glad.” My voice is flat.
“Yes.” Vanessa reaches out and touches my arm, and I flinch. She doesn’t seem to notice. “I know you, Gabriel. Your family has money. You’re not going to cause problems or demand things. You’re the ideal arrangement, really.”
“I’m not interested in being anyone’s arrangement.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything you haven’t done before.” She withdraws her hand and steps back, giving me space. “I’m just asking you to get back together with Blaine. Of course, I’m not going to divorce him. But I’m totally fine with Blaine satisfying his needs elsewhere. Better with someone I know and approve of than some random stranger who might cause trouble.”
I gape at her, speechless. She’s asking me to resume an affair with her husband. With her blessing. Like she’s offering me a business opportunity.
“I can see this is a lot to process,” Vanessa says, her tone sympathetic. “But think about it, Gabriel. Blaine is generous. He can help your career. Introduce you to clients. And all you have to do is—”
