Chapter EightThe violins and the harpist packed away their equipment, leaving the party at around two-thirty in the morning, and by three the guests had almost fizzled out. An hour later Melissa and I were alone in our shared bedroom. She stopped on the way to the bathroom and faced me.
“I saw you talking to Francesca and I saw you put something in your jacket pocket that she gave you, Terry. She's a very alluring woman who apparently, doesn't get enough s*x. Why look so shocked? A publisher talks about many things to an author and they're not all related to writing! If you mess with me I'll dump you quicker than you can smile, threat against my life or not. Are we clear on that one, Terry?”
“Perfectly, but it's not what you think, Mel.”
“What exactly is not what I think? The card that
