a thick, conservative silk robe, Frank was already in bed. He lay on the far
l, crisp sheets, creating a chasm of empty space between them. The si
the balcony, his voice a low, placating murmur. Camille could still catch
ng headphones and turned up
hone vibrated on the nigh
wered, a sense of foreb
n right ba
miliar. And furi
ed through the phone, so potent
ack to the balcony. "How did you get this number?" she w
d you're going to the Prince gala. Pl
n made late last night, in a closed room. How could he possibly know
r business," she sai
omething low and dangerous. "I'm not Frank, Camille. I don't
e violation. The audacity. She ended the call and
e with Frank. He had finished his call and was standing in the doorw
he demanded. "Yo
verheard her side
e. And a wicked, impulsive idea sparked in
s. Her amber eyes, which had been cold with
her voice carrying cool, deliberate amusement. "He's a little jealous
, rising an octave. He stared at h
pril. A reaction to his betrayal. It had never once occurred to
ediately name surged through him. I
end?" he stammered, his nicotine-
the first time in years she'd seen
"Oh, sometime while you and April were touring
ving him standing alone in the middle of the room. His face was a thunderous mask of
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