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“If I wanted to have you drive me somewhere, is that doable? Or do you only work for Callum?” “I’m at your service. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” “Good. Meet me in the garage in twenty minutes.” My smile is dismissive. I can tell he wants to ask where we’re going, but he doesn’t. He’ll find out soon enough. When we pull up in front of the Wilshire Grand in downtown, I get out before Arlo can open the door for me and strut into the lobby of the seventy-story building like I own it. Which I suppose I might, considering whom I’m married to. Smiling at the uniformed security guard seated behind the impressive black granite reception desk, I say cordially, “Good morning. I’m here to see Callum McCord.” The security guard, a nice young man with broad shoulders and a hideous bow
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