Chapter 1

At Thanksgiving dinner, my mother asked my husband to find me a boyfriend.

She didn't know he was my husband. We'd kept our marriage private for five years. Roman Vescari said the men fighting over his father's organization would use me against him if they knew.

When the succession was settled, he'd promised, we'd tell everyone.

Under the table I nudged his ankle.

Mom was smiling at him over the candles. “You must know somebody decent. Audrey and Tessa can't both spend every holiday with me.”

Roman took my sister's hand.

“Actually, Marianne, Tessa and I got married this morning.”

He placed a copy of their marriage certificate beside the cranberry sauce.

Mom gasped, then laughed in astonishment. She hugged the daughter she'd adopted when we were young and asked why on earth they hadn't told her sooner.

I couldn't feel my feet.

Later Roman motioned me onto the balcony. Chicago lay cold and bright beyond the glass.

“Those documents three months ago,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “They weren't amendments to the family trust. They were divorce papers. The decree came through last week.”

I stared at him.

“You told me the lawyer needed my signature.”

“He did.”

“Roman.”

“Tessa needed protection. She thought your mother would make her marry one of my father's old associates to settle a business dispute.”

“My mother would never do that.”

“She's scared. She doesn't have the same security you do.”

Inside, Tessa called him. He crushed the cigarette, touched my hair as if I were being unreasonable, and went to his new wife.

I stayed outside until Mom found me.

“Audrey? You're freezing.”

“I'm coming with you,” I said. “To Switzerland.”

Mom owned a small house near Leysin. She'd been planning to make it her home again since selling her business. She and I both had Swiss passports; I'd been born there. I'd always refused to leave because Roman was here.

Now she studied my face.

“You've changed your mind?”

“Yes.”

She took my hands between hers. “Then we'll go.”

That night Tessa sent photographs.

Dinner at the restaurant where Roman had first told me he loved me. The two of them in the bedroom I'd furnished, in the house he said I couldn't move into until our marriage was public.

The photographs were two years old.

Then came a picture of Tessa beside another man. I knew his face before I knew why I was shaking.

Dylan Mercer.

Want to know why Roman married you in the first place? she wrote.