Park Avenue Secrets

Two

The black-tie hospital fund-raiser at the Bergere Grande Hotel was in full swing on Saturday night. Guests had been served a gourmet dinner in the Crystal Room, and now they were moving through the marble-pillared foyer to the East Ballroom for cocktails and dancing.

Elizabeth had spotted Collin approaching, so she’d quickly set a course for the ladies’ room. She knew she’d have to look the man in the eye at some point, but she was putting off the moment as long as possible. She didn’t want to think about how much the red negligee had revealed.

She emerged from checking her hair and freshening her lipstick and accepted a flute of champagne from a smartly dressed waiter. Then she concentrated on a series of silent auction items on her way to the main ballroom. She wanted to give Collin and Reed plenty of time to finish their conversation.

Hanna sidled up to her. “So, how’d it go last night?”

Elizabeth bought a little time by putting her head down over an auction item. It was a ruby and diamond choker, and the top bid was ten thousand dollars. She added a thousand and signed her name.

“Nice,” said Hanna, nodding to the jewels that were secured in a glass case. “If you win, can I borrow it sometime?”

“Sure.”

Hanna latched on to Elizabeth’s arm and drew her away from the crowd. “So, did you do it?”

Elizabeth admitted as much with a nod.

“What happened?”

“I crashed and burned.”

Hanna’s sculpted brows knit together. “I don’t understand. Was he asleep or something?”

“I got dressed up in a red, slinky negligee.” Elizabeth omitted the part about the coin toss, not wanting Hanna to know she’d had second thoughts. “Then I surprised him in his office.”

“And?” Hanna prompted, cocking her expertly coiffed blond hair to one side.

“And Collin was there, too.”

Hanna’s fingertips went to her mouth to cover her grin.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” Elizabeth warned in a dire undertone. “I was mortified.”

“Were you … exposed?”

Elizabeth sniffed, attempting to regain her dignity. “There was no frontal nudity.”

“He saw your butt?” Hanna looked somewhat thrilled at the prospect.

“He did not see my butt. It was a negligee. It was sexy, but it covered everything that counts.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I tried to vamp up my husband, and he left for a meeting with Collin.” Elizabeth’s gaze slid across the room to where the two men were talking. There were things more embarrassing than having Collin see her in her red negligee.

“Oh,” said Hanna, obviously understanding the broader point.

“Yes. Oh. Apparently I’m not nearly as irresistible as I’d hoped.”

Hanna’s red mouth pursed in puzzlement. “What exactly did he say?”

Elizabeth’s tone turned sharp, even though she knew none of this was Hanna’s fault. “Do we have to dissect it?”

“Of course we have to dissect it. How else are we going to learn from it?”

“Fine.” Elizabeth took a breath. Hanna wanted the gory details? “He said ‘I have to go meet with Collin. I’ll be back in an hour. You should work on the anniversary party catering menu.’” She was beginning to hate that catering menu. “He also said ‘Hold that thought.’”

“Ouch,” Hanna whispered in sympathy.

Elizabeth peered into the main ballroom. “Let’s go find the bar.”

“Yeah,” Hanna agreed with a rush of breath. “There are times in a woman’s life when she absolutely needs a drink.”

They started toward the main ballroom. Elizabeth wanted to hurry and disappear, but she was forced to move carefully in her sleek, silver evening gown.

“Vannick-Smythe at three o’clock,” Hanna warned in an undertone.

Elizabeth’s gaze flicked to her gossipy neighbor Vivian and made eye contact. “Uh-oh. She spotted us.”

Hanna bent her head. “Pretend we’re deep in conversation.”

“Right.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t bring her dogs,” said Hanna, referring to Vivian Vannick-Smythe’s yappy white Shih Tzus. Constantly by her side, the two dogs went uncannily well with the woman’s overdyed hair.

“I guess she couldn’t get them on the guest list,” Elizabeth speculated.

Hanna sputtered out a laugh. “Oops. Here she comes.” Then she raised her voice to conversation level. “And what did you think of yesterday’s political coup in Barasmundi?”

Elizabeth quickly jumped into the game. “I don’t think a woman can hold on to power in West Africa.” She resisted the urge to glance at Vivian, as the woman came to a halt beside them. “But if Maracitu can pull off the elections, it’ll help stabilize the north, maybe inspire the tribal leaders to participate in democratic rule.”

Hanna was a network news anchor, and an all-around political junkie. Elizabeth assumed her ploy was to make the conversation as inaccessible as possible for Vivian.

Luckily, Elizabeth was interested in world politics herself. It was one of the reasons she and Hanna had become such good friends.

Hanna put in, “I don’t see how the government can move ahead on the constitutional vote if—”

“Well, I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.” Vivian Vannick-Smythe’s drawl overrode Hanna’s words.

Elizabeth glanced up to see Vivian’s penetrating gaze fixed on her. The hostile tone took her by surprise. “Hello, Vivian.”

Vivian sniffed. “At minimum, one would think you’d let the speculation die down.”

“What speculation?” Had somebody heard she was trying to get pregnant? Or had Collin gossiped about her failed seduction attempt?

“Why, the SEC investigation, my dear,” said Vivian, a flash of triumph in her eyes and a cruel smile fighting its way to life on her face. “I don’t know what that husband of yours got up to. And, of course, it’s none of my business, but when the SEC starts investigating—”

“Vivian Vandoosen, isn’t it?” Hanna elbowed her way between the two women and stuck out her hand, giving Elizabeth’s mind time to scramble for a foothold on logic.

Vivian’s glare all but scalded Hanna. “Vannick-Smythe,” she corrected in an imperious voice.

“Of course,” said Hanna. “It must have slipped my mind. You understand how it is. I meet so many important people in my job, others sometimes get lost in the shuffle.”

Any other time, Elizabeth would have laughed at the insulted expression on Vivian’s face.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse us,” said Hanna, linking her elbow through Elizabeth’s, all but dragging her away from the stunned Vivian.

“What’s she talking about?” Elizabeth hissed under her breath as they passed the fountain, heading toward the patio doors.

“I assumed you knew,” said Hanna, making a beeline for the ballroom. “The story won’t break until tomorrow.”

Elizabeth stopped abruptly. “There’s a story?”

Hanna looked uncomfortable. “Bert Ralston is working on it right now.”

Elizabeth felt her eyes go wide at the mention of the network’s top investigative reporter. “It’s that big?”

Hanna nodded apologetically. “Your husband and Gage Lattimer are under investigation for insider trading in Ellias Technologies stock.”

Elizabeth was speechless.

“Let’s find a drink,” said Hanna.

“How … I don’t …” Insider trading? Reed would never do something dishonest.

“How do you not know?” asked Hanna, stopping in front of a bar and the uniformed bartender who stood behind a row of sparkling glasses and a garnish tray. “Two vodka martinis.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

Hanna nodded while the man mixed the drinks. “Really.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

Hanna scooped up the drinks and held one out to Elizabeth as they walked away. “Can’t help you there.”

Elizabeth closed her fingers over the fine stem of the glass. Her husband was a subject of a criminal investigation, and he hadn’t bothered to mention it?

Last night he’d told her nothing was going on. That it was a routine matter. Though clearly Collin knew what was up.

Reed’s employees knew more than his wife did. The network news knew more than she did. Even Vivian Vannick-Smythe knew more than she did.

How could Reed have put her in this position?

“Is my marriage already over?” asked Elizabeth, dread welling up inside her.

“I think,” said Hanna, obviously choosing her words with care, “you’re going to have to ask Reed that question.”

Elizabeth took a gulp of the strong drink, determination replacing distress. “That’s not the only question I’m going to ask him.”

Elizabeth’s green eyes glittered like emeralds as she turned on Reed in their penthouse foyer. “How do you not tell me you’re under investigation by the SEC?”

Ah, there it was. She’d been uncharacteristically silent in the limo, so he’d known something was up. At least now he could mount a defense.

He flipped on an overhead light, latching the dead bolt behind them. “It’s not a serious problem.”

Her voice went up an octave. “Not a serious problem? They’re handing out twenty-year jail sentences for white-collar crimes these days.”

“I didn’t do it,” he pointed out.

She just smiled mulishly up at him.

“You’ve got me tried, convicted and jailed.” Now, wasn’t that a vote of confidence?

“I haven’t convicted you. I’m frightened for you.”

“You sound angry.”

“I’m both.”

“You don’t need to be.”

“Oh, well. Thanks. That makes it all better.”

“You think sarcasm’s the answer?” He was perfectly willing to talk about this. But he wanted to have a reasonable, rational discussion. Mostly, he wanted to dispel her fears that he might be sentenced to jail.

“I think communication is the answer,” she responded tartly. “You know, the part where you talk to me about what’s going on in your life. Your hopes, your fears, your aspirations, your pending criminal charges.”

“How would telling you have helped?” Reed truly wanted to know.

“We could have shared the load.”

“You have your own load.”

“We’re husband and wife, Reed.”

“And husbands don’t unburden themselves by worrying their wives.”

“Sure they do. All the time.”

“Well, this husband doesn’t. You have enough to think about right now—”

“You mean like the catering menu?”

“Among other things. There was no point in both of us worrying, and I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Well, I’m plenty upset now.”

“You should stop.” He was going to take care of it. It was only a matter of time before this was wrapped up and life got back on track.

“You’re joking, right?”

“It’s nothing.” He stepped toward her. “It’ll blow over in no time.”

She tipped up her chin to look at him. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“I meant to make them suspicious.”

“Nothing,” he repeated with conviction.

“So, the SEC is conducting random investigations on innocent and unsuspecting citizens?”

Reed drew a heavy sigh. He really didn’t have the energy to go into it tonight. It was late and, even though tomorrow was Sunday, he had a conference call first thing in the morning. He wanted to sleep. He wanted her to sleep, too.

She cocked her head to one side. “Ellias Technologies?”

“I bought some shares,” he reluctantly allowed. “So did Gage. Their value rose dramatically, and it tripped an alarm bell somewhere. Collin will take care of it. Now, let’s go to bed.”

“That’s all the information I get?”

“That’s all the information you need.”

“I want more.”

“Why does this have to be a thing?” Why couldn’t she trust him to take care of it? It was his problem, not hers. Her fretting wouldn’t help the situation one bit.

“Reed,” she warned, all but tapping her foot.

“Fine.” He stripped off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. “It turns out that Senator Kendrick was on a committee that awarded Ellias Technologies a lucrative government contract.”

Her green eyes narrowed. “And they think the senator gave you a heads up.”

“Exactly,” said Reed. “Are you happy now?”

“No. I am not happy now.”

He raised his palms in a gesture of defeat. “And that’s why I didn’t tell you. I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to worry.” Was that so hard for her to understand?

Her lips pursed in that mulish expression that he recognized so well. “I don’t need you protecting me.”

He moved closer, moderating his voice. “The doctor said you should stay calm.”

“How can I stay calm when my husband is lying to me?”

He hadn’t lied to her. He’d omitted a small amount of unnecessary information so that she wouldn’t get stressed out for no reason. “You’re being ridiculous,” he pointed out.

She pulled back. “Is that what you think?”

He could see her warming up for a whole new argument. Well, he wasn’t buying into that at one in the morning.

“What I think is that Collin is on the case,” he stated with conviction. “By next week, it’ll be a footnote in my life. And you have much more important things to think about right now.”

“Like the catering menu?” she repeated.

“Exactly. And your basal body temperature.” He attempted to lighten the mood. “And that little red negligee.”

“I do have a brain, you know, Reed.”

It was his turn to draw back. Where the hell had that come from? “Have I ever suggested you don’t?”

“I can help you solve problems.”

“I pay professionals to help me solve problems.” That way, he and Elizabeth could lead a calm, uncluttered life.

“That’s your answer?”

“That’s my answer.”

Elizabeth waited for him to say more, but he was happy to end on that note.

Reed was the last to arrive at the lunch meeting in the Wellington International boardroom. Gage, Collin, media mogul Trent Tanford and private investigator Selina Marin were already sitting around the polished table when he walked in.

“Did you get hold of Kendrick?” Gage asked without preamble.

Reed shook his head, shutting the door behind him before taking his place at the head of the oblong table. Fresh-brewed coffee had been placed on the sideboard, and a bank of windows overlooked the fall colors of the park many stories below. “His secretary says he’s in meetings in Washington all week.”

“He doesn’t have a cell phone?” asked Collin.

“He can’t be disturbed,” Reed quoted, letting his expression tell the room the excuse rang hollow to him. He’d never had a problem getting hold of Kendrick before. In fact, it was usually Kendrick who called him.

“We need his denial,” said Trent. “At least, we need him to publicly deny having given you insider information. And I’d prefer to have it on videotape.”

“You’ll have it,” said Reed, hoping it would be soon. It was in everyone’s best interest—including the senator’s—to have him on the record in this. In the absence of identifying the blackmailer, Kendrick’s backing was their best chance of stopping the investigation in its tracks.

“Did you get anywhere with the police?” Reed asked Selina.

“I had a chat with Detective Arnold McGray.” She slid a thick sheaf of paper across the table to Reed. “They’ve been surprisingly cooperative. Here’s the list of blackmail victims in the building.”

“The cops are at a dead end,” Collin put in. “They’re hoping the extra manpower will help.”

“Person power,” Selina put in.

“Sorry,” said Collin with an edge of sarcasm. “I keep forgetting you’re a girl.”

“Shall I start wearing pink ruffles?”

Reed contemplated Selina’s no-nonsense black blazer, white turtleneck, short cropped hair and minimal makeup. With those dark brows and that straight slant to her mouth, she’d look ridiculous in pink.

Reed sighed and picked up the letter, reading the names of Julia Prentice, who before her marriage to Max Rolland was blackmailed regarding her out-of-wedlock pregnancy, Trent Tanford for his relationship with murder victim Marie Endicott, and Prince Sebastian who’d also received a threatening letter.

In the prince’s case, the letter writer didn’t ask for any money, and it was eventually proven to be his ex-girlfriend. So, the Prince Sebastian incident didn’t seem to be related.

“Any connection between mine and the other two?” Reed asked Selina.

“Three different threats,” she answered. “Three unrelated incidents. Three untraceable Grand Cayman bank accounts.” Then she paused. “Same bank.”

Reed allowed himself a small smile. So, the three were likely related. That gave them a whole lot more information to go on.

“I’ll start looking for connections between the cases,” said Selina.

“Any guess as to why mine was ten million and the others were only one?” asked Reed.

Selina gave a wry twist of her lips. “Neither of the others paid up. Maybe expenses were mounting.”

“You bet your ass we didn’t pay up,” muttered Trent.

“You should be flattered,” Gage directed his comment to Reed. “The guy obviously thinks you’re solvent.”

“Flattered isn’t exactly how I’m feeling.” He didn’t need this crap in his life. His life was plenty complicated enough.

“What about Marie Endicott’s murder?” Collin brought up the topic they’d avoided so far.

“I don’t like speculating about that,” said Trent.

Neither did Reed. But ignoring the possibility that the murder was tied up in the blackmail scheme wouldn’t change the facts, and it wouldn’t reduce the danger.

“The police aren’t ready to call it a murder,” said Selina. “But that missing security tape makes my hair stand on end. And I think we have to operate on the assumption that they’re connected.”

“That’s a pretty big assumption,” said Collin.

“Yeah? Well, I’m preparing for the worst-case scenario.” Then she turned to Trent. “I wonder. Did the blackmailer commit murder to set you up? Or did he target you after learning of the murder?”

“My guess would be that he’s opportunistic,” said Trent. “After the murder, he set me up.”

“Generally,” said Selina, “there are two reasons for a murder. Passion or greed.”

“The blackmailer is definitely greedy,” said Reed. “And if he operated on passion, we’d probably have another dead body, not more blackmail letters. He’s got to be ticked off at us.”

“Fair point,” Collin put in.

“But we don’t know anything for sure,” said Trent.

Trent was right. And Reed wasn’t in a position to take any chances. Three people in his building had been blackmailed and one was dead.

He slid the list back to Selina. “Hire as many people as you need. And put somebody on Elizabeth.” Then he paused and drew a breath. “But tell him to keep his distance. Nobody talks to my wife about the blackmail.” He glanced around the room to drive home his point.

Everybody nodded, and he rose to his feet.

He was keeping Elizabeth safe, but it was also his job to keep her calm. When this was over, they had a family to start. And, God help him, it was going to be over soon.

Three

“Your marriage is far from over,” said Hanna as she and Elizabeth made their way past groups of diners to a corner table in their favorite deli off Times Square.

Out of habit, Elizabeth had ordered a thick corned beef on rye, but she was pretty sure her clenched stomach wouldn’t allow her to eat.

“He won’t talk to me about anything important,” she told Hanna. “He won’t make love with me. And when I ask for more information, he gets angry. How can I stay married to a man who won’t let me into his life?”

Hanna took a sip of her diet cola. “Stop trying.”

The answer set Elizabeth back in her chair. “Stop trying to be married?” That wasn’t the answer she’d expected.

“Stop trying to muscle your way into his life.” Hanna took a bite of her sandwich.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” They were married. Elizabeth was supposed to be in Reed’s life.

Hanna peeled a paper napkin from the metal dispenser and dabbed the corners of her mouth. “I say this as your best friend, and as someone who loves you dearly—”

“This can’t be good,” Elizabeth mumbled.

“You’ve grown a little, well, dull lately.”

Dull? What the heck kind of a thing was that for a good friend to say?

“You are way too invested in Reed and Reed’s life.”

“He’s my husband.”

Hanna shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I know you want a baby. And that’s admirable. And I know you love Reed. And that’s admirable, too. But, Elizabeth, Lizzy, you have got to get a life.”

“I have a life.”

Hanna gave her a dubious look.

Okay, so maybe working out at the spa, buying designer clothes and planning parties wasn’t the most productive life. But Reed did a lot of corporate entertaining. It was important for her to look the part.

“If you had your own life,” Hanna continued, “you wouldn’t obsess so much about Reed’s.”

“I don’t care what kind of a full, exciting and enriching life I’m leading, I’m still going to care that my husband is under criminal investigation.”

“He told you he’d take care of it.”

“Of course he told me that. He doesn’t want me to worry. He’s psychotic that way.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Sweet? Whose side are you on?”

“Lizzy, you’ve lost all perspective. It’s not about sides. It’s about your happiness. Thing is, Reed’s life centers around his job, his business associates, his family and friends, and his marriage.”

“Not so much his marriage,” Elizabeth muttered.

“Maybe. But that’s not my point. My point is that your life also centers around his job, his business associates, his family and friends, and your marriage. See the problem?”

“That’s not true.” It couldn’t be true. Elizabeth wasn’t some 1950s throwback without a thought of her own.

“Who are your friends? Your old friends? The ones that have nothing to do with Reed?”

Elizabeth searched her brain, conjuring then discounting those people she’d grown up with or met at college.

“My old friends don’t live in Manhattan,” she finally answered.

After her marriage, it had quickly become difficult to spend time with her old friends. They seemed to think Elizabeth’s life was one long party, that money solved everything, that rich people should never have a single problem. And, if they did, they should shut up about it and go shopping.

“And all of his do,” said Hanna with an expression of triumph.

Elizabeth eyed her corned beef and decided she could use some comfort food after all. “Your point?”

“All of your current friends are really Reed’s friends.” “Except for you.”

“You met me through Trent. You remember Trent? Reed’s friend.”

“This is starting to feel like an intervention.”

“That’s because it is an intervention,” said Hanna.

“Well, I don’t need one.”

Hanna let out a breath. “Oh, my darling …”

Elizabeth lifted the succulent sandwich. “I don’t know why I should take your advice anyway. You were the one who insisted I seduce him last week. And that sure went to hell in a handbasket.”

“That’s because you did it wrong.”

“I did it perfectly. I rocked in that red negligee. Reed was the problem. He was about to be arrested. How can a man concentrate on passion when he’s about to be arrested?” Point well made, Elizabeth took a bite of her sandwich.

“You need a job,” said Hanna.

Elizabeth swallowed. “Trust me on this. The one thing I don’t need is more money.”

Hanna waved her pickle. “It’s not the paycheck. It’s the getting out of the penthouse, exchanging opinions and ideas with other adults, hanging out with people who have absolutely nothing to do with your husband or with getting pregnant.”

“And you don’t think that will drag us further apart?”

“It’ll give you something interesting to talk about when you get home.”

Elizabeth was about to protest that they already talked about interesting things, but she stopped herself when she realized how hollow that would ring.

Reed was pretty much a workaholic, and he refused to discuss Wellington International with her. He seemed to think business problems would stress her out as much as SEC investigations. But if she introduced her own business issues, especially if there were problems, she was willing to bet he’d engage in the conversation.

Hmm. Getting a job. Developing an identity. The idea kind of appealed to her. In fact, she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before.

But there was a glitch. A big glitch.

“Who’s going to hire me? I haven’t worked since I graduated from college.” She paused. “With a degree in musical theater.”

“We’re less than five blocks from the theater district,” Hanna offered.

Elizabeth couldn’t picture herself as a script girl or a gofer. It would be silly for the wife of a billionaire to take an entry-level position. Not to mention embarrassing for Reed.

“He doesn’t have to like it,” said Hanna, guessing the direction of Elizabeth’s thoughts.

“Wouldn’t that pretty much defeat the purpose?” She was trying to save her marriage not alienate her husband.

“What do you want?”

Elizabeth suddenly felt tired. “Raspberry cheesecake.”

“And after that?”

“A baby. My marriage. To be happy. I don’t know.”

“Bingo,” said Hanna.

“Bingo what?”

“Get happy. Get yourself happy. Independent of Reed or a baby or anything else. Make your own life work. The rest will have to sort itself out around that.” Hanna paused, her blue eyes going soft along with her voice. “What have you got to lose?”

It was an excellent question. There was little left to lose. If something didn’t change drastically and soon, she wouldn’t have a marriage. She certainly wouldn’t have a baby. She wouldn’t have a life of any kind.

Hanna was right. She had to get out there and get a job.

A job?

Through the open door of the en suite, Reed watched Elizabeth rub scented lotion onto the smooth skin of one of her calves as she got ready for bed.

“You mean you want to sit on a charity board?” he asked. There were any number of worthy organizations that would be happy to have her support.

“Not a seat on a board,” she answered. “I mean a real job.”

Reed was stymied. “Why?”

She shrugged, putting the cap back on the bottle. “It’ll get me out of the house, into the community, help me meet new people.”

“You can get out of the house anytime you want.”

This was New York, and she had an unlimited budget. There was no end to the things she could get out of the house and do, and no end to the people she could meet while doing them.

“Shopping doesn’t give me the same sense of satisfaction.”

He searched her expression, trying to figure out what was really going on. “There’s more to life than shopping.”

“Exactly.” She stood up, replaced the bottle and selected a small jar of cream.

“The Hospital Foundation would be thrilled to have you on board.”

“My degree is in theater.”

“Then the Arts Board. I can make a call to Ralph Sitman. I’m sure one of the committees—”

“Reed, I don’t want you to make a call. I want to type up my résumé and get out there and apply for a job.”

“Your résumé?” he asked with disbelief. She was a Wellington. She didn’t need a résumé.

“Yes.” She turned to the mirror and rubbed the cream onto her forehead.

“You’re planning to schlep around the theater district with a copy of the classifieds under your arm?”

“That’s how it’s generally done.”

His voice went dark. “Not in this family, it isn’t.” If he was lucky, people would think she was eccentric. But some might actually think she needed the money. Like he was some miser who wouldn’t see to her needs.

Elizabeth stepped back into the room, her diaphanous gown backlit until she shut off the en suite light. “Excuse me?”

“It’s undignified,” he told her.

“Earning a living is undignified?”

He tried to stay calm, but he could feel the tension mounting behind his eyes. “You already earn a living.”

“No, you earn a living.”

“And it’s a damn good one.”

She stepped forward and flipped back the comforter on her side of the bed. “Congratulations. Bully for you.”

“Elizabeth,” he pleaded. “What is going on?”

She folded her arms across her chest, unconsciously thrusting her breasts out against the thin fabric. “I need a life, Reed.”

What the hell kind of a statement was that? “You have a life.”

“You have a life.”

“It’s our life.”

“And you’re never in it.”

“I haven’t left New York in months.” And don’t think that wasn’t tough to orchestrate. But he wanted to be on deck for making babies, and he wanted to be around Elizabeth in case she needed anything. It was a tough time for both of them. He recognized that, and he was doing his best to keep things calm and smooth.

“You think this is about your physical presence in the city?”

“What is it about?” He paused. “Please, Elizabeth, for God’s sake, tell me what this is all about.”

She hesitated, her hands dropping back to her sides. “This is about me wanting a job.”

“Doing what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever I can get. Script girl, production assistant, gofer.” She drew a breath and squared her shoulders. “This isn’t negotiable, Reed.”

He flipped back his side of the comforter, losing his grip on his temper, feeling the argument slip out of control.

“Great,” he intoned. “Our friends and associates will show up to an opening at the Met. They’ll all have dates. I’ll be stag, because my wife will be the gofer.”

“No. Elizabeth Wellington will be the gopher.”

“And you don’t think that’ll be just a little humiliating for me?”

Her jaw clenched. “Then I’ll use my maiden name.”

“You’ll use your real name,” he growled.

“Fine.” She flounced into bed, tugging the covers up to her chest.

Reed dropped in next to her, more frustrated with his wife than he was with the SEC. She couldn’t go slumming backstage at the Met. They’d both be the laughingstock of Manhattan.

He knew he was too angry to argue further tonight, but this conversation was far from over.

He switched off the lamp next to his bed and heard the beep of her digital thermometer. His head hit the pillow, and he closed his eyes.

Her light stayed on. She didn’t move. He couldn’t even hear her breathing.