ADRIAN’s POV
Celeste arrived home on a Thursday afternoon.
I had known her flight time since Tuesday when her assistant forwarded the itinerary as she always did. I was in the study when I heard the car pull in.
I didn’t go downstairs, I stayed at the desk with the folder from Martin Reeves locked in the drawer beside me.
A few minutes later, she appeared in the study doorway looking exactly as she always looked, polished and composed.
“You’re home,” I said.
“Three days early.” She smiled. “The Geneva meetings wrapped faster than expected. The Beaumont family were more agreeable than anticipated once the numbers were properly structured.”
She approached slowly and kissed my cheek. The familiar scent of her perfume arrived with her, expensive and precise, the same one she had worn s
