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They followed Rosario through the large terracotta-tiled foyer, the walls a rich, textured rust. A large chandelier hung in the center of the space.
Continuing on, they passed through the living room, a dark leather sectional fixed in the expansive room’s center.
Rosario opened the French doors on the other side, and Andi shifted her gaze to the crystal blue pool, then the figures of two people locked in an amorous embrace next to it.Bingo. They couldn’t try and claim their relationship was platonic after that display.
“Thanks,” Christian said, and Rosario nodded.
They stepped out onto the beautiful cobalt-and-white tile spanning the full patio and, from this angle, the pool. A white fountain spurted water on the far edge, flowing down into the pool.
Still locked in an embrace, neither noticed their presence.
Christian cleared his throat.
They froze, then eased their gazes over.
Veronica paled. “I—”
“Yeah. Looks like you shot any ‘we’re just friends’ excuse in the foot,” Christian said.
Brad took a deep inhale, his bare, hairy chest rising, then falling. “Then you might as well come sit.”
“We don’t have to tell you anything,” Veronica sputtered. Her red swimsuit dipped low in the front and the back.
“No,” Christian said, “you don’t, but then we’ll just assume the worst. You prefer to go that route?”
Andi smiled.Well played.
“There’s no need to go there,” Brad said, his cigar robe—which she had no idea they even still made—hanging wide open, the silk straps hanging down, swishing across his swimsuit. Interesting attire didn’t come close. “Would you two care for a drink?” he asked, moving for the crystal decanter on the white rolling cart.
“No, thank you.” Andi sat on one of the chaise lounges, seated upright, her feet planted on the ground. Christian, on the other hand, reclined on his.
The sun reflected off the pool, dancing along its clear blue surface. Bubbling directed her attention to the hot tub at the west end of the property. Perfect for watching sunsets, she bet. Another fountain fed into it. The backyard was gorgeous. Veronica Gaiman did well for herself, unless this had been her and Tad’s home.
“Veronica,” she started. “Your home is lovely.”
“Thank you.” Veronica lit a cigarette, inhaled, the tip glowing orange, then exhaled with a sigh as smoke ringed out of her mouth.
Andi did her best to ignore the smoke flowing in her direction and started with her first question. “Is this where you and Tad lived?”
Veronica’s face soured. “Yes, but it’s mine now ... or soon will be in the divorce.”
Andi smoothed her skirt, wondering how that would work if her and Brad’s affair ever came to light.
“Does Tad know?” Christian asked, getting straight to it.
Veronica took the martini glass from Brad’s hand. “Thank you, love.” She took a sip, two green olives jiggling as she lifted it to her mouth. Swallowing, she lowered the glass and turned her gaze on Christian. A gaze that appeared a little too friendly for Andi’s taste.
Brad rested a hand on Veronica’s shoulder, taking a stance behind her, a martini glass of his own in the other hand. “Yes. He knows.”
“Is that why he cut you out of the business?” Christian asked, again straight to the point.
Andi smiled. She liked his style.
“No,” Brad said. “His hostile takeover came first.”
“And the divorce?” Andi asked.
“My idea,” Veronica said, popping an olive in her mouth.
