My hands curl into fists in my lap.
"I behaved poorly," I say. "I'm really sorry."
"You embarrassedme."
"I know."
"In front of very important associates."
"I know."
He turns then, his face eerily calm. "Dashkov left early. Did you know that?"
I shake my head.
"He was quite disappointed. He had plans for the evening that didn't materialize." Ewan crosses to his desk, trailing his fingers along the polished surface. "He's since become unwell."
"That's unfortunate."
"Mmm." His eyes stay fixed on mine. "I was thinking it might be nice for you to pay him a visit."
Visit the man he was going to sell me to. Is he fucking serious?
I keep my face blank, waiting for the next bomb to drop.
"But that's not what I wanted to discuss." He leans against the desk, arms folded. "I'm going to New York. You're coming with me. We're traveling as a family."
So he's accepted the invitation. This is actually happening.
"There's a gala with some very important people." He studies my face. "You'll be attending."
"Of course."
"You'll be perfect."
"Of course."
"No disappearing. No embarrassing scenes. No giving anyone the impression that you're anything other than a devoted, grateful wife."
I nod. My throat tightens, but I keep my expression neutral.
"Good." He pushes off the desk and walks toward me. "Because I've been thinking about Hale."
My heart kicks into overdrive.
"He's been asking about you. Apparently, he misses his mother." Ewan stops in front of my chair, looking down at me like I'm something he stepped in. "It's sweet, really. Misguided, but sweet."
I stare at my hands balled in my lap.
"Switzerland is still happening. That hasn't changed." He crouches until we're eye level, and the forced intimacy makes mesuddenly nauseous. "But I'm a reasonable man, Keira. If you behave in New York—if you're the perfect wife, the perfect hostess, the perfect ornament on my arm—perhaps I'll arrange for you to see him before he goes."
"I'm not allowed to see him until we leave?" My voice comes out smaller than I intended. "When will that be?"
"Less than a week."
He does this constantly. Dangles the carrot just out of reach, then snatches it away the moment I get close enough to touch.
"I understand," I say quietly.
