We decided to spend the night in, instead of going out like we had planned. We cleaned up, and Trevor had to write another Cheque for the guest house. His face was still a bit swollen, but he seemed fine laying in my lap.
We were watching family feud, patiently waiting on room service to bring us some pasta.
"Did the private investigator ever contact you?"
"He didn't, actually," I reply, my hands idly coursing through his hair.
"Hmm," he hums, "what did you need him for?"
"A situation that Elias was supposed to handle."
"You had a situation and relied on Elias instead of me?" He sat up.
"Are you in trouble?" He asks more urgently and I shake my head.
"No, no, it's just this . . . Issue that I'm having at work. Or I had. Where one of my workers sexually harassed my secretary. That
