Focus, Adriana. He asked you a question.
Yes, a question that surprises me. He's not assuming. He's actually asking.
“To be honest, I don't know yet,” I admit. “I need to think about how I want to present this. Us.”
“I get it.” He nods. But there’s no argument. No wounded ego to stroke. “Let me know what you decide.”
I should just go. Shower. Start tackling the mountain of problems waiting for me. But something makes me linger, watching him.
“Thanks,” I say. “For keeping up.”
He leans against the kitchen island, his face red, jaw covered in stubble, looking at me with those blue eyes that see too much.
“Anytime, wife.”
I should hate it. The way he says that word. The way it sounds wrapped in his voice, all warm and teasing and entirely too familiar.
I don't hate it as much as I should.
And that's the problem.
CHAPTER 12
LOCHLAN
Adriana’salready working when I come out of the guest room later that morning. I tried to go back to sleep after that torturous run, but my body was too wired to rest… from the endorphins, from proximity to her… probably both.
It's barely eight, and she's at the kitchen island dressed in yoga pants and an oversized sweater. Her laptop is open on the kitchen island, phone pressed to her ear, coffee cup in hand. Her hair hangs in loose, glossy waves around her face.
“No, Patrick, I understand the concern, but the plan hasn’t changed.” Her voice is crisp and efficient. I’ve come to recognize her CEO mode. “The marriage is personal. It doesn't affect our Q3 projections or our client relationships... yes, I saw thePage Sixheadline. Someone at the wedding talked. I'm handling it... no, we are not issuing a statement. That just feeds the flames. We let it die on its own... tell Hoffman I'll call him personally this afternoon. His account is safe.”
I grab a mug, walk to the coffee maker, and pour myself a cup while trying not to eavesdrop.
And I’m failing completely.
“Tell the board I'll be available for a call at four. Yes, today. Iknow it's short notice. That's the point.” She pauses. “Thank you, Patrick. I appreciate it.”
She clicks to end the call, a grimace twisting her features. Then she drops the phone on the counter like it’s a hot coal. With a groan, she rubs a hand over her face.
“Page Six?”I ask.
She sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Someone at the reception couldn't keep their mouth shut. There's a blind item about a ‘Boston CEO's surprise nuptials to a mystery man with dangerous family ties.’” She takes a long sip of coffee. “It's vague enough that I can ignore it, but my board is nervous. One of my biggest clients called Patrick, my CFO, at six this morning asking questions.”
I stand with my back against the counter. “You shut it down quick.”
“I have to. The longer it lingers, the more people dig.” She glances at me. “Did you get any rest after we got back?”
“Nah.” I shrug.
“Join the club.” She points to her laptop. “I've been working since we got back. Emails. Calls. Putting out fires before they start.”
I take a sip of coffee. “When's the meeting with the capos?”
“Two o'clock. Vincenzo confirmed about an hour ago.” She wraps her hands around her coffee cup, her brows knitting together. “There are eight of them. I grew up around most of these men. We were together at Sunday dinners, holidays, my father's birthday parties. I know their faces. I know their wives' names. But I don't know them. Not the way I need to.”
“What has Vincenzo told you? Anything you can use?”
“I mean, he’s given me what he can. The rundown on who's solid, who's ambitious, who's been making noise since Dad got shot.” She rolls her eyes. “And then there's Riccardo.”
