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Calder dismissed my driver and bodyguard casually as we exited the vehicle. “We no longer need your services for the evening, gentlemen.”

“But what about security for . . .” Chester said, caught off guard. Keeping me safe had been his sole purpose for the past month. “Should we at least wait to take you home?”

Calder eyed him. It wasn’t friendly. “I think we’ll muddle through. You’re dismissed.”

Chester got back in the car, his reluctance unmistakable in every line of his body.

“He likes you,” my husband remarked dispassionately as we made our way inside. He was leading with a hand on my arm. We walked side by side with me stealing glances at his face.

I shrugged, self-conscious of his eyes studying me closely. “We spend every second together, and he’s good at his job, so of course we’re friendly.”

His mouth twisted into an ugly smile. I looked away and didn’t look back even when he spoke, his voice harsh.

“I suppose it’s second nature to you, wrapping poor schmucks around your little finger. I hope you know I’m impervious to that. To you.”

That stung enough that I couldn’t hide one gasping shocked breath. God, he was mean. “I’m aware,” I managed to volley back at him in a smooth tone.

“Good.”

We were seen to a booth the instant we walked in the door. It was early so the restaurant was quiet enough that we could speak quietly to each other and still be heard.

We sat side by side, hip to hip.

A glass of white wine was immediately placed in front of me.

I thanked the waiter, taking a deep swallow of the cold, refreshing liquid.

I’d gotten somewhat better at drinking since our wedding night. Not great, but much improved.

“Used to wine now?” my husband asked me.

I didn’t look at him, but he sounded amused. “Yes. At least, I think so. I try to have exactly two glasses at galas, no more, no less. It seems to work well.”

“Sounds wise.”

I watched his large hand as he lifted his own glass of bourbon on the rocks to his lips.

“How was London? Are you finished with your business there?” I asked him, trying to keep the conversation going. Trying to create a conversation in the first place. Also, I was curious.

“Forget about me,” he said coldly. “Tell me about you. How are you settling in? Do you like the apartment?”

“Of course,” I said automatically. “It’s very nice, thank you for asking.”

What else could I even say?

It’s perfect but also too extravagant. A lot for one person. It has the biggest, loneliest bed I’ve ever slept in.

Nope. I wouldn’t be saying any of that.

“And you have everything you need?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” I replied.

“If that changes, please don’t hesitate to inform Asha. She’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”

I almost laughed. I almost rolled my eyes.

Of course he didn’t tell me to inform him directly. God forbid I’d be able to communicate with my own husband.