ROWAN CARTER
I spotted Simon before he spotted me.
He stood near the far end of the bar, posture relaxed, one hand resting at the small of a woman’s back — his wife. He rarely brought her to events unless they mattered. Which meant he considered tonight useful.
“Carter,” he called once he caught sight of me.
I guided Freya with me toward them, my hand resting lightly at her waist.
“Simon.” greeted him with a smile.
He clasped my hand firmly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that familiar, knowing way.
“And this,” he said, turning slightly, “is my better half. Elena.”
Elena Keller was poised without being ornamental. Dark green gown, minimal jewelry, observant eyes. The kind of woman who missed nothing and commented on half of it.
“Mrs. Carter,” Elena greeted warmly, extending he
