“Where have you been?”
“Meeting a friend.”
“Which friend?”
I put my handbag on the console.
“Does it matter?”
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
“It matters when my wife starts behaving like she has something to hide.”
I almost admired the audacity.
“That’s interesting coming from you.”
His expression changed.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. I’m tired.”
He watched me carefully.
Then he set his glass down.
“Vesna tells me you’ve been asking questions.”
My heart gave one hard beat.
I had told Vesna not to contact him until she received advice. Apparently, he had contacted her first.
“What questions?”
“About the company. About the money. About things that have absolutely nothing to do with you.”
“Then you won’t mind explaining them.”
He stepped closer.
“Claire, listen to me. I am trying to help someone who has nobody else. You should be proud of me, not looking for ways to sabotage it.”
