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“I promise.”

“I’m buying ingredients, and I’m going to teach myself how to bake.”

He chuckles. “Just remember where the fire extinguisher is.”

“Very funny.” I throw the dish towel at him. “You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

He comes around the kitchen island and plants another kiss on my forehead. “I look forward to whatever baked delights my wife conjures up.”

I can’t help but smile.

Why do I go weak whenever he says those two magical words?

My wife.

50

DANTE

The moment I step into my office at eight a.m., my phone rings.

It’s my private investigator, Pete Salerno.

"Talk to me."

"I've got it." Pete's voice is flat. "Took longer than expected. Somebody with resources went to a lot of trouble to make this information hard to find. Court filings sealed. Police reports buried. Complaint records scrubbed from the company's HR system. Whoever this guy is, he's got reach."

I lean back in my chair. "Who."

"Jeremy Parker-Downey. CEO of Remy Media Group, a tech and media conglomerate based in San Francisco. Net worth somewhere north of three billion, depending on which index you're reading. Political donor. Golf buddy to some very powerful people.”

Jeremy, stop.

I feel the prickly heat crawl up my spine and across the nape of my neck.

I’ve never heard of Jeremy Parker-Downey.

But he’s about to become a person of extreme interest to me.

"Sunny worked for him," Pete says. "Content strategist at Remy's San Francisco office."

"And Parker-Downey."

Pete is silent for a moment. He usually delivers the facts with a cold disconnect and no hesitation.

But he is hesitating now.

"Dante, this one's ugly."

"Tell me."

"According to her statement to the police, Parker-Downey targeted her. Months of escalation. Started with comments. Compliments that crossed the line. Requests to stay late, work weekends, join him at events that had nothing to do with her job description. She documented all of it. Emails. Texts. Screenshots. The girl was careful."

“The girl is my fucking wife,” I growl because my gut is already churning, and I need to let some of it out.

My hand tightens on the armrest of my chair.

Pete understands and doesn’t take it personally. "She filed a formal complaint with Remy's HR department."