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He’s still holding back. Secretive as ever, I don’t think I’ll ever know every part of Adrian. Sometimes I tell myself I’ll just have to be satisfied with what I can have. But is that enough? It’s too soon to tell.

For now, I’m only worried about a tiny orange kitten lost in a house this big. When I work in the upstairs office that Adrian arranged for me, Peaches joins me. She curls up on the windowsill, basking in the sunlight, while the silly human she looks out for has to tap-tap-tap on a box with keys. I wouldn’t be surprised to find her in there, though I’m disappointed—and frustrated—when I don’t.

That leaves Adrian’s study.

Anxiety is a bitch. I know we turned the fireplace off after we were done in his study the other day. I’m not sure he’s been back in there since, and if he has, there’s no reason to assume he turned it on.

And, yet, I can’t stop imagining the small fluffball somehow making her way behind the grate, sizzling away as she mews painfully, dead because I didn’t bother checkingeveryroom in the house.

So far, the only two I haven’t are the basement gym and Adrian’s study. The gym is locked—for my safety, supposedly, though I wonder if he only did it because he was afraid I’d grab one of his weights and bean him in the head those rough early days of our marriage—so I’m not worried that Peaches pulled a Houdini and got down there.

But the study?

The door turns easily under my hand. It’s not locked so I decide to do a quick peek to make sure that Peaches didn’t follow Adrian in earlier and get stuck.

It takes five minutes for me to admit that Peaches isn’t in here, either. The fireplace was off—the first place I checked—and considering the study is made up of a row of locked filingcabinets, a large desk, stacked bookshelves, and nothing else, she wouldn’t be able to get lost in this room.

I should leave. There’s no reason for me to stay. I should leave…

I don’t.

I guess I’m just too nosy. During my search, I noticed that Adrian left two folders out on top of the desk, plus a large black book with a red ribbon serving as a bookmark. I disregarded them at first, but curiosity got the better of me.

He’s a financial manager. That’s what he told me. Like me, his work is all numbers, and I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see what he was working with.

The top folder made my stomach drop. I flipped through countless sheets, hoping that I was reading them wrong. I mean, Ihadto be. These aren’t the sort of papers that a legitimate financial manager would have in their portfolio.

Closing the top folder, I switch it with the other.

Along the edge, two words are written in Adrian’s blocky print:AVALON DOUGHERTY.

What the fuck?

I flip that open with so much force, I nearly spill the contents onto the desktop. The first sheet is a copy of my lease; I recognize my signature at the bottom and know it’s legit. Beneath it, printouts of my bank statements.

What?

I don’t look any deeper. Instead, I place the two folders onto the edge of the desk, reaching for the big, black book.

Flipping it open to the page marked with the ribbon, I read it upside down from my position in front of the desk, my jaw dropping at what’s written onthatpage.

“Loni? What are you doing in here?”

I jump, slamming the black book shut.

Fuck. I never even heard him come in, or close the door behind him. He has. Adrian—dressed in the same suit as he was this morning, the familiar unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear—is standing in front of the door, an unreadable expression on his handsome face.

Now, I know I’m not supposed to be in here. He told me from the beginning that the study was off-limits unless he was with me… but I guess I thought he got rid of that rule after we christened this very desk the other night.

The tendons standing out on his neck tell me otherwise.

I gulp. “I was looking for Peaches.”

“I thought you wanted to keep her in your room. That it would be the safest spot for her until she was older.”

“Yes—”

“If that’s the case, she wouldn’t be in my study.”