“It’s true. I told her you were the love of my life, always have been, always will be. I am going to file for divorce. At present I am staying at the Plaza Hotel.” Something wasn’t right. Vicki wasn’t falling into his arms, laughing and crying, overcome with joy. She looked almost sad. Weary. “Did you hear what I said?” Phillip was starting to feel scared. “I’ve left Jane. I want to be with you. For us to start a new life together—” He heard the back door slam and froze. Vicki did too. The two of them a tableau suspended in glass, listening to the sound of leather-soled shoes descend the wooden porch steps that led to the back garden. The garden he paid his own gardener to maintain. “Who the hell is that?”

Vicki swallowed, then lifted her chin, brazening it out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her eyes locked on his as they listened to the sound of the pea-gravel path crunching under swiftly moving feet along the side of the house. As Phillip headed toward the window, Vicki grabbed his arm. “I can explain,” she pleaded, desperation in her eyes. “He said he knew of a job. A friend looking for someone with my skills—”

Phillip yanked free of her grasp, got to the window in time to see the figure of a man with close-cropped dark hair step off the path onto the sidewalk. Phillip couldn’t see his face as the man’s head was turned away, but there was something about him that was triggering memory bells. An itch he couldn’t quite reach. The usurper was tall, well built, and moved like an athlete. Could probably fuck for hours on end. Phillip watched, jealousy consuming him, his gnarled hands gripping the windowsill. Probably had. The man crossed the sidewalk and got into the sleek midnight-black Maserati that had stolen his parking spot. That was his spot. His! It was the last straw. Phillip whirled to face her. “Who is he?” Phillip demanded, anger rising hot and fierce, snatching his breath from his chest.

“It doesn’t matter. Phillip, you need to calm down. Your blood pressure is—”