Adrian was still in the suite when the alerts came through.
He saw my face change when I read them. He did not ask what they said. He held out his hand for the phone, and I gave it to him, because there was no version of the next twelve hours in which he would not find out anyway, and I had already decided a long time ago that I was not going to be the kind of woman who hid things to manage someone else’s reaction.
He read the first article. Then the second. Then the third.
His jaw tightened. Just slightly. The way it did, I had noticed, when something had made him very angry and he had decided, consciously, that the anger was not useful yet.
He set my phone down on the table.
“Victoria,” he said.
“Almost certainly,” I said.
He looked at me with an expression that was part fury and
