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“She’s too little to be adopted, but maybe in a few weeks,” Ethel says beside me. “I can save her for you.”

I wish I was free to adopt her in a few weeks. “Well—” I try to think of a response that doesn’t give away my current situation.

“I understand, you’re planning a wedding and are surely busy, but if you change your mind.” Ethel smiles at me.

“Thank you.” I give Coco one last glimpse and rush out of there, my heart heavy.

“I don’t know when you came to the conclusion that I care about your opinion, Betsy,” Corm’s voice stops me before I cross the threshold. “I’m having her followed, and you should be grateful I don’t have you fired.”

Who is he talking about?

“I’ve done a background check on her,” Betsy’s voice shakes with indignation.

“Not thorough enough apparently,” Corm hisses.

What the hell? Are they talking about me?

I step into the room. The glass front gives a view of a gray, rainy street. Corm is now wearing his suit jacket, glaring at Betsy, and looking like an attractive action-movie hero. Or rather a villain.

Both of them stand in the middle of the linoleum floor, the fluorescent light casting a harsh glow on their skin.

Betsy notices me and clears her throat. “Good, I think we got nice pictures to continue with the positive story. Have a nice day.” She yanks the door open and marches out.

Corm looks at me, his eyes void of emotion. He opens the front door. “After you, darling.” His smile could freeze Hell.

I step outside, trying not to roll my eyes. It’s like any tender connection we established over the last few days has disappeared. Like outside the confines of his house, our relationship is back to hatred and pretense.

“We agreed no more childish stunts, and then I fucking come dressed up here like an idiot.” The rain drizzling is warmer than his tone.

“What are you talking about? Everyone in there loved the James Bond look.” Come on, he must see it was funny.

“I thought you wanted to set the date ASAP.”

I sigh. “I’m sorry. I played with those labels before we agreed. And I never assumed you wouldn’t check where you were going.”

“I was on a conference call while getting changed, believing I can trust my system and not be bothered by trivial things. I’m fucking busy. A concept unfamiliar to you, obviously.”

His words are like a slap. “Fuck you. I said I’m sorry. Nothing bad happened, so cut the drama.”

He scoffs. “I was looking for a fiancée, not a fucking child.” His car stops at the curb, and he yanks the door open. “Get in.”

“No.”

“Suit yourself. Don’t wait up, darling, I’m going to The Velvet Room.”

My stomach sinks—and has no right to do so. “That’s a—”

“Sex club. Yes, I have needs.” He gets into the car and leaves.

A fucking sex club? Asshole. I wipe the wet hair from my forehead and dash to a coffee shop I spot.

Shaking off the water as I enter, I order a latte and sit in the corner. Was he talking about me with Betsy? Is he having me followed? Why? What did she miss in her background check?

A man enters and takes a seat. He doesn’t look my way, but I’m still wondering if he’s my tail.

Corm has me followed.

And he went to a sex club, not even trying to hide it. I should call some gossip column and tip them off.