Edward's eyes flicked around the room. He asked his assistant to find her number, and he had rushed over simmering, because she had refused his call. The news in the papers ought to be treated as a matter of utmost urgency.
He saw the blanket draped over the couch, the coffee cups, the quiet domesticity of a life she shared with Benicio. They were living together. The image of Benicio's arm resting along the back of the sofa was enough to sour his blood.
"You weren't picking up," he said tightly. "I wanted to talk to you."
Benicio rose slowly from the couch but stayed silent, watching.
Sarah crossed her arms. "So you tracked me down?"
"I saw the headlines." He intentionally sidestepped what she just said. Edward's voice was strained, as if every word cost him. "Fraud? Is i
