Chapter 10

Adrian's expression went blank.

He hurled the phone at the far wall. The screen shattered on impact.

"She's playing games," Oliver said hastily, crouching to collect the pieces. "Trying to get a reaction. This is exactly the kind of thing —"

"We're divorced," Adrian said. His voice was controlled. Completely controlled. "It doesn't matter what she does. It doesn't concern me."

"That's right, sir. She's exactly where she should be — out of your life entirely. Better for everyone —"

But the pressure behind Adrian's ribs was building. He hadn't felt anything like this in years. Not over a business loss. Not over a board betrayal. The closest thing he could compare it to was the one time a rival had gone after his sister, and he'd lost three days to controlled, focused rage.

This was different. This was knotted. This sat in the wrong place in his chest.

The image from the hospital corridor came back to him — Eliana in Maxwell Thorne's arms. Eliana with Maxwell.

"Find out if she's with him," Adrian said.

Oliver flinched. "With who?"

"Thorne." He was already looking for his coat. "Check his movements. Now."

Oliver reported back in under twenty minutes: Maxwell was at a private members' club in West London. A private booth. There was a woman's voice audible in the background.

Adrian drove there without thinking, running two red lights along the way.

He stood outside the door of the private booth. On the other side — a laugh. A woman's voice. High, a little breathy. Very like Eliana's.

He kicked the door open.

Maxwell was sprawled across a leather settee, apparently well into the evening. Beside him was a woman he'd clearly brought from somewhere else — not Eliana, nothing like Eliana apart from a passing similarity in pitch. She bolted at the sound of the door.

Maxwell didn't move. He looked at Adrian with the particular expression of someone who had been waiting.

"Thought you might show up." His voice was dry. "She's not here, by the way. In case you were hoping."

Adrian said nothing.

"You drove over here at that speed because you thought I'd have her tucked away somewhere," Maxwell said. "Didn't you."

A beat. Then Adrian pushed the awkward truth off his face and replaced it with something contemptuous.

"I thought I'd come and watch what she looks like when she's finished with dignity entirely. Running back to you — even after everything you did."

Maxwell uncurled slowly from the settee and stood.

"You're unbelievable." His voice had gone flat. "You've been carrying on with someone else for God knows how long, you've destroyed her, and when she doesn't come crawling back you're still here talking about her dignity?"

He crossed the room in three strides.

The punch landed before Adrian registered it coming. His head snapped sideways. He tasted blood.

"I've been keeping something back," Maxwell said. "But I'm done keeping it back."

Adrian straightened. Wiped his mouth.

"Say it."

Maxwell leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette. He took his time.

"When Eliana was supposed to marry me, she'd never agreed to it. Her father arranged the whole thing — there were assets involved, a property deal, and she was the price. She tried to fight it. She stopped eating for fifteen days." He let the number land. "She nearly died at home, in her room. I don't know what he threatened her with in the end. By the morning of the wedding, the dress they'd bought her had been altered — taken in by two sizes. That's how much weight she'd lost."

He drew on the cigarette.

"I knew she didn't love me. I'd known for years. Her diary was full of one name. The first time she ever taught herself to knit, she made something for him. She spent months learning the preferences of everyone in his family so she could —" He paused. "She was in love with you, Adrian. She had been for a very long time. She just hadn't worked out how to say it yet."

"And before she could," Maxwell said, "she was already someone's wife. Mine."