“If you strike with ease, it’ll land just where you want it… See?”
Alex’s voice was low, almost bored. He swung his club smoothly, sending the golf ball sailing across the trimmed green. It landed near the flag without much effort.
Of course it did. Because nothing ever missed when Alexander Blackwood was the one swinging.
He stood shoulder to shoulder with a sharply dressed man whose name had flown over my head the moment we were introduced. He had a sharp accent, a polite smile, and a name that my Bronx tongue had fumbled within seconds.
So I called him what I could in my head.
ASIAN DUDE.
Now, you might be wondering what the hell I was doing on a golf course at 5:30 in the afternoon, playing trophy wife to a man who barely looked in my direction unless it was for business.
The a
