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As the meeting drones on, something about the new hospital, and the upcoming mayoral election, and God knows what else… all I keep thinking is that there’s no reason for me to be here instead of at home with my wife.

I mean, seriously. This can’t go on much longer. Every time I think it’s done, Jack stands up, mentions another order of business, then sits down with a smirk as one of his yes-men start droning on and on about more bullshit.

Not even caring that I’m making it obvious, I check my phone for the time.

Fuck me. It’s already quarter after nine. I still have to get Loni’s cake. I’d be a shit husband if I didn’t even have a cake for her birthday, or a present to go along with it. Then there’s dinner. The restaurant is just waiting for my call. The order was placed last week, but I want it hot and fresh. Thankfully, they don’t close until eleven, but it’s already getting so late.

Dinner might have to wait until tomorrow.

Maybe that’s for the best. I’ve already told my clients that I’m taking a half day on Friday due to the appointment I have scheduled in the afternoon. We can consider today a wash, and though I know her birthday is today, we’re adults. As long as we celebrate it, it shouldn’t matter if it’s today or tomorrow.

Right?

If this meeting doesn’t end soon, I’ll have no choice.

I’ll make it up to her. I’d give her the fucking world if she asked it of me. Since the only thing she seems to desire right now is my head beneath a guillotine so that she can be free as a widow, I’m not that eager to comply. However, I’m hoping that the long black box I’d picked up at lunch might at least begin to show her that being Mrs. Adrian Heller isn’t all that bad…

I’m just about to set my phone down again when, suddenly, it buzzes. I expect the text to be from Loni. Sure, none of the other messages I’ve received so far have been from my wife, but she has to be wondering where I am.

Only it’s not my wife.

It’s Sebastien.

BAS

Hey, bro.

I know you’re in that stupid meeting with Dallas and the King’s men, but I’m at the Court.

So is your wife.

Did you know that?

It takes me a moment to understand what Bas is asking me.

Did I know that Loni was down at the King’s Court?

No. No, I did not.

I don’t even think. In the middle of Oliver blathering on about God knows what, I stand up.

“Adrian?” Jack purses his lips. “We’re not done here. Sit down.”

Bullshit.

“Family emergency,” I grit out. “I’ve got to go.”

Jack’s smarmy expression does nothing for my blood pressure right now. He gestures at himself and Dallas. “Your family is right here. Unless you mean something happened to my sister?”

I shake my head. Let him think it’s my idiot father in trouble, but no way in hell am I going to admit that my wife is down at the Courtwithoutme when I know—Iknow—that Jack’s just waiting for any cracks in my relationship with Loni to show.

“I’ve got to go,” I repeat, snatching up my suit jacket. My phone goes in my pocket. I nod at the men sitting at the conference table. “And next time? Shit like this could’ve been an email.”

I owe Bas big time.

Without letting Loni know that he’s watching here, he’s given my play-by-play reports of what she’s up to. I’m glad she’s avoided going anywhere near the backroom where the Used spend their time—I don’t know what I would do if anyone mistook my wife as an available mistress—though I hate the idea of her sitting at the bar alone, nursing a gin and tonic.

At least she’s alone, though… until I’m pulling up at the club, and Bas’s latest message comes through my phone.